Fallout Equestria: Communication

by MtM

Rating: everyone
Tags: Dark, Comedy
Length: 1333

A "Fallout: Equestria" one-shot about a pony with severe problems in the art of eloquence.

I'm lost and I don't know where to go. Maybe those nice looking folks with the radical haircut and the maniacal grin can give me some pointers?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-03 18:18:39 UTC

Fallout Equestria: Communication

Fallout Equestria: Communication

By Madhog thy Master

I have no memory of my past.

Naaaah, just kidding. I remember everything as if it was yesterday. Probably because it was yesterday? I don’t rightly know, actually. It’s kind of hard to tell with all those explosions and the killing and the blood and the screaming… and the explosions and the killing… and the explosions.

Did I mention there were explosions? Let me check the first paragraph for a moment… Oh yeah, I did. So, what happened yesterday aside from the killing and the blood and the more killing? I was born! Or at least I think I was. I need to check my date. I’ll get back to you in a minute.

……………

So, as I was saying, I was born yesterday, and then I killed everyone. Hold on, was it everyone? Dang, now I have to go back there and be sure of it otherwise they’re going to come after me and try to subdue me and turn me into the Ultimate Weapon or something… Or at least, that’s what I dreamed they’d do to me last night. Or maybe that’s what I was hallucinating about during the rampage? Ugh. Now I really need to go back and check that place out. Be right back!

……………

Okay, everyone’s internal organs are still being feasted by those lovely over-sized bugs underground. I tried to hug one of those lovelies but they fled the moment they saw me. Oh well. In any case, you’re probably wondering who I am at this point. That’s a fairly good question.

No, really. I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve been alive since the day before this one, that I can kill a lot, and that somehow I know what “killing”, “slaughtering”, “gutting”, “pulling out filaments of intestine from someone’s belly to thrust them in their throats” all mean… but I fail to grasp the consequence of those actions. I also understand what it means to be alive (at least from a semantic standpoint… Wait, what in the name of Celestia is a “semantic”!? … wait, who’s Celestia!? What’s a Stable Dweller? Where did that come from!?).

Uhm, I think I’m lost. No, I mean I’m literally lost. Where am I? Maybe I can ask those funny hatted looking folks with those other funny collared ones over there…

…………….

Okay, note to self: “crushing rib cages with your bare hooves is not a way to ask for directions.” See? I’m learning. Maybe next time I slaughter something I’ll be able to get this whole “communication” thing right! If only my parents taught me proper etiquette before I beheaded them with my tail and ventured in the world… Wait, how do I know what “parents” are? And why I feel like it should mean something to me but doesn’t? This whole “being alive” stuff is such a drag!

Now that I think about it: I have hooves and a tail! Just like my “parents” and all those other friendly folks I greeted with my rear legs inside their guts! What else is there I wonder? Let’s see…. My coat is white-ish (difficult to say with all the dried blood) and apparently I have some metallic parts on me. Strange, none of the others have metal on them… I wonder if it’s only me? Hey, some people with fancy haircuts and a maniacal grin are approaching, maybe they know someone like me?

……………

Nope. They were all fleshies. I checked them both outside and inside to be extra sure of it. Well, I guess I must be special then? Like The Chosen One, or something? Next thing you know, I’m going to have an epic adventure with quirky companions, giant conspiracies, near-death situations, super-powerful mutants and lots of awkward innuendos about my sexuality….. Did I just think all that? That’s weird. It’s as if I should be aware of something important about my very existence but it keeps eluding me. Perhaps running away from home the day I was born wasn’t the best of ideas. Oh well, can’t cry over spilled milk… and blood… and guts… and more blood (you get the idea).

This brings me to the next question. Am I a boy or a girl? Let me check out for a moment.

…………..

I’m a girl, apparently.

Only girls have iron eye-lashes… They do, right? It’s a fortune I managed to find a pool nearby to see my own reflection. Too bad all the red in that pool made my appearance a bit difficult to discern. My left eye was blue, while the right one was bright red (at least my pupil was, the rest of it was black and encircled by more of that metal stuff). I had a dark red mane. The right half of it was straight and covered my forehead right above my eye. It was tied up together on the back to form a pony tail. A pony tail. Pony. Ponies… Was I pony? I think I was, despite some small differences. Okay, despite the obvious differences. OKAY! Despite me having a big chunk of Whatevermantium in my torso, a laser eye (I so hope it’s a laser eye, that would be cool), a blade for a tail and my plated hooves looked like they could conceal a leg cannon… In fact, do I actually have one? Maybe those friendly looking ponies with heavy armors that seems a bit too metallic even for me can help me find out?

……………

Well I’ve never!

Forcing their missile gifts on me while I was busy ripping their suits apart with my newly found extractable chainsaw was just rude! Luckily my newly found eye-laser (I knew it!) was able to melt some of their helmets. I have to admit that back bone incinerator might have been too much, but it’s always nice to discover what your body is capable of. Note to self: “remember to thank the nice armored ponies by boiling them alive the next time you kill them.” I was getting so much better at this whole “communication” thing, wasn’t I?

Okay, now that I know what I am and what I can do (sort of) there was only one interrogative left: who am I? Did my parents give me a name before the killing and the explosion with blood? The data on my forelegs’ screen only tell me the date when I was born (which is still yesterday) and some sort of serial number, an item list, a map, health status, weaponry, targets, missions, self-repair talismans, casualty count, radio reception… You know, I’m beginning to think I should have probably checked out the screen to begin with!

Maybe amidst all this data there’s a name I can go by. What’s this? Primary Objective? There’s a name beside it…. Leeeeettlll-something.

Littlepip!

Wow, that’s… That’s the coolest name ever! So that’s who I am! My name is Littlepip, and according to what’s written in here I’m a “Stable Dweller” and that I must be exterminated! My parents are the best!

Okay, now that I know who I am and what I’m supposed to do with my “being alive” thingy, all I need to do is find a stable to be exterminated in. Yay! Go Pip! But where do I find one? Maybe that terrorized family with five mini-ponies can give me some pointers?

…………….

No. NO! WHAT HAVE I DONE!

I forgot to use my hoof chainsaw! Now everyone will think I’m not good with mini-ponies… Come to think of it, why do I keep slaughtering ponies whenever I go? I mean, I’m not exactly a people’s person but there has to be a better way to communicate with others! Could it be that I… actually LIKE to kill? I need to test that theory on the next people I find.

I’ll get back to you in a moment.

……………..

……….

…..

I like to kill.

Now, where's that stable?