Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Memories and Coercion

“Any history of substance abuse?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind?”

“Let’s just say a bit of everything and move on.” The nurse pony looked at him in shock. “I have at least three bullets lodged in my back,” Thomas said as calmly as he could. “And the holes in my chest.”

“If you’ll take off your armour we’ll start.” As Thomas did that, casually dropping it and his shirt on the floor, the doctor turned to him.

“What’s your name, doc?” the man asked calmly as the doctor came towards him with a set of tweezers and antiseptic.

“Helpinghoof,” the stallion replied. “Not my actual name, took the name from the sign out there.”

Thomas had seen the sign in question, adorned with a curious arrangement of pink butterflies. He was so used to anything relating to first aid being represented by a red cross or that strange two-snakes-entwined-around-a-pole thing that it had confused him at first. It was a little difficult to remain confused after seeing what lay within the boxes and clinic, though.

“I also think a few ribs are bruised, maybe cracked. Can you take a look at that?” Thomas asked, his voice muffled by the mask he refused to remove.

“You’re remarkably calm,” Helpinghoof commented as he worked, sounding worried.

“Part of that’s my pain tolerance, but I’m still sorta riding the high from the painkillers I took a few hours back,” Thomas explained, wincing as the pony extracted one of the bullets from his back.

“You really shouldn’t be self-medicating.”

Thomas shrugged. “Well, middle of a raider compound, what choice did I have? You almost done?”

“Yes, getting the last one now. I must say, you have a lot of scars,” the doctor said, looking him up and down.

“I try to avoid getting hurt,” the man said. “Never works, though.”

The pair lapsed into silence as the stallion started patching up the holes in his chest. “Your ribs should be fine as long as you rest up. Drink this healing potion,” Helpinghoof said, pushing the bottle into Thomas’s hand. “Then, take one of these three times a day, for the next two days, with food,” he added, placing a small plastic container next to him.

“Antibiotics?” Thomas asked, sounding impressed. “Shit, this kind of thing is rare, doc.”

“Yes, but considering what you did, it’s only right we reward you. Also, you might want to drink this,” the stallion said, offering him a glowing packet.

“Better safe than sorry,” Thomas muttered. “Can I get one for my friend too?”

“Don’t bother,” Moonbeam suddenly said, “I’m here.” She walked into the room. “How bad is he hurt?”

“All things considered, he’s in good shape.”

“You can have the bottle back,” Thomas said, placing the empty healing potion on the desk. He stood up and looked at his blood-stained shirt. “Anywhere I can get this cleaned? Don’t want to scare anyone with all the scars.”

“How did you drink that?” Moonbeam asked, looking between him and the still-sealed mask.

“Drink what?” Thoma asked back. Moonbeam just shot him a flat stare.

“Well, you’re good to go. We can clean that if you want, but I’m afraid we have to charge for that,” Helpinghoof said apologetically.

“Eh, I’ll just do it myself, I’ve had plenty of practice. Blood stains like a bitch, though,” he muttered, putting the shirt back on.

“I got our room keys,” Moonbeam said, “but first you need to surrender your ammo.”

“Why my ammo?” Thomas asked as he pulled his duster back on. “Everywhere else I’ve been has taken my guns.”

“Something about not wanting to infringe on anyone’s right to be armed, but leaving them none of the capability to cause harm.” Moonbeam shrugged. “All I know is that it means I don’t have to carry around all that ammo for now.”

“You mind if I put my bullets with yours?” the man asked as thet exited the lobby, ignoring the stares they received.

“Go for it,” the mare replied. “Just don’t get our stuff mixed up.”

Thomas and Moonbeam made their way to a pony with a weird paddle-thing. “Please remove all ammunition, explosives and incendiary devices from your body,” he said, gesturing at the footlocker between them.

“Sure.” Thomas reached into his duster and pulled out a few boxes, each one filled with different bullets. He also put in a few spare magazines for his 12.7mm SMG before unloading the SMG, his Sequoia and the Medicine Stick. “That should be everything,” he said, dropping a number of small energy cells into the box.

The stallion waved the thing over Thomas’s body, frowning when it made a buzzing noise just above Thomas’s ass. “I said all ammunition. I’m sorry, but those are the rules.”

“No-one’s ever caught that before…” With a sigh he removed his magnum and knocked the chamber open. Catching all six rounds in his hand he dropped them into the box. “Better?” he asked, stowing the empty revolver into the back of his pants.

The unicorn waved the paddle over him again. “All clear. Enjoy your stay,” he offered warmly.

“Fuck, the casinos in Vegas aren’t this careful,” he commented.

Moonbeam shrugged. “Rules are rules.”

Thomas looked around the spacious lobby, taking in the sights. It was definitely clean, making him feel a little out of place. The stares he was getting didn’t help, either. “I really don’t like the stares I’m getting,” he muttered to Moonbeam.

“They’re only staring, right? So what’s the problem?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he mumbled. “Our rooms?”

“Follow me,” the mare said, nodding towards an elevator. “We didn’t get penthouse suites, because that’s where the radio station is,” she explained. “Still, twenty-second floor’s pretty good.”

“Bet it’ll have a nice view,” he commented, stepping into the elevator as its doors opened.

Moonbeam punched the button that read ‘22’ and waited patiently for the door to close. “Hey!” a voice called out from across the lobby. “Hold the door!”

Thomas grabbed the elevator’s doors and gently pulled it open, letting the mare in. “Thanks,” she panted.

“No problem,” he replied, getting a look at her. Her grey coat wasn’t much to look at, but the blue mane helped her stand out.

“Woah,” she said, getting a look at Thomas. Under his helmet he rolled his eyes. “Awesome. I’m Homage,” she said, sticking out a hoof.

Thomas had to bend down a little to shake her hoof. “I’m the Courier. That’s my friend, Moonbeam.”

“Hi,” the other mare said, nodding politely.

Homage nodded back and pushed a button, tapping it with her magic. “So, you’re the one who ended the lockdown Grim Star was enforcing?” she asked as the doors closed.

“Yeah, that was us,” Thomas replied. “Did we get paid yet?” he asked Moonbeam.

“I’ll give you your share when we get to our room.”

“You’re sharing a room, huh?” Homage asked cheekily.

“Not like that, miss,” Thomas answered casually, waving away the comment.

“So your pretty friend is - ”

“Not interested,” Moonbeam said, finishing the other mare’s sentence.

“The pretty ones never are,” Homage muttered. “So, you said you did something about the raiders,” she said, changing the topic.

“Yeah. Why you so interested? You don’t look like one of those security officers.”

“I’m the DJ’s assistant. He’s gonna want to report on this, so I figured I’d be proactive and get the news,” she explained to Thomas.

“I guess you want an interview,” Thomas guessed.

Homage blinked. “How did you know?”

“Not the first time someone’s wanted one,” he explained. “The answer is no, by the way.”

“Why not?”

“The last group who wanted an interview made raiders look like freaking saints, that’s why. I’m sure you’re nothing like that, but…” The man trailed off.

Homage chuckled while Moonbeam just looked flatly at him. “Really?” she asked. “Storming a raider base is nothing, but a mare wants to ask you a few questions and all of a sudden you start looking for a way out?”

Thomas sighed as Homage laughed. It was a nice laugh, but he didn’t exactly appreciate it. “They cornered me. I’m like a rat when I get cornered, start looking for the quickest way out. It was through them, so I broke a few ribs, probably dislocated someone’s arm. They left me alone after that, though,” he chuckled. He glanced down at Homage. “Don’t worry miss, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You know something? I actually believe you,” the grey mare said after a few moments. “You don’t feel like the kind of… well, you’re definitely not a stallion, but you know what I mean,” she chuckled. “Are you sure you won’t give an interview?”

“Courier, you probably should,” Moonbeam said. “Everypony trusts DJ PON3, if they hear you talking to him, then they’re more likely to trust you.”

“Moonbeam, I’m not stupid. But I don’t exactly want my presence here to be, y’know, a big thing.”

Homage stared at the pair. “Wait, why would that be bad?”

“Not bad, more like… inconvenient.” The elevator’s doors opened with a ding of a bell. “That was a long ride,” Thomas commented. “It was nice meeting you, miss. Come on Moonbeam, I need some sleep.”

“It was nice to meet you, Homage,” Moonbeam said, rushing after the man before the doors could close.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” Homage said as the doors closed.

“Hey!” Moonbeam banged on the door to the bathroom. “You done in there!?”

“Yeah, I’m out!”

Moonbeam opened the door and stepped in. “ARGH!” she screamed, backing out as fast as she could. “You liar!”

“I said I was out, not that I was wearing pants,” Thomas replied.

“My eyes!” Moonbeam yelled.

“Oh, quit making a big deal about it,” Thomas said as he stepped out, holding his duster over his crotch. “What are you, ten?”

Moonbeam just sat there and rubbed at her eyes, as though doing so would erase what she just saw. “You’re disgusting.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and walked away. “The shower’s free now,” he said redundantly, walking past her, tracking water towards his room.

He sat down on his bed, one of two. He was sure Moonbeam would have been very unhappy if they had been forced to share, but he would have been fine on the floor. He was very used to sleeping on the ground, so much so that it took him a while to adjust to a normal bed after several months of camping. He let out a chuckle as he sank into the soft mattress, thinking that not even the beds in Vegas were this good.

He stretched out, relishing in the simple joy of how the soft blankets felt against his skin. After a moment, he decided he would be better off underneath them, lest Moonbeam walk in and have another tantrum. He decided to leave the matter of his shirt for later, for when the blood had properly dried. He could deal with stains, it wasn’t like anyone would be really seeing them.

He scratched at his chest, idly touching a few of his scars. Each one had a story, but he could only really remember the ones that had come with some significant event. The hole caused by a .308 round just under his left nipple was from a Legion sniper, hoping to get the drop on him outside Bitter Springs. The plasma burns on his chest from when he’s gotten too close to a Mister Gutsy inside the HELIOS One Power Plant when he attempted to disable it up close. The slash wounds from when he’d gotten in a fight in Freeside and underestimated the chemmed-up local. Not each story could be a grand tale of heroism. Some were just the result of lapses of judgement or acts of stupidity.

The sounds of hooves clip-clopping across their room shook him from his thoughts. Must have really been out of it, he thought to himself as Moonbeam poked her head in. “There you are,” she said.

“Why is your mane still wet?” Thomas asked, looking at the way it clung to her head. He sniffed at the air. “You smell like a wet brahmin.”

“I do not!”

“I worked on a brahmin ranch for three months and trust me, you smell like a wet brahmin.”

Moonbeam glared at him and pouted. “You’re a dick.”

“You want me to pull my blanket off?” he asked.

“No!” Moonbeam screamed. “I don’t want to see your mutated junk!”

Thomas fixed the mare with a very serious stare. “My junk is not mutated.”

The mare scoffed. “Yeah right. It all just hangs out. That’s not normal.”

“For a human it is.”

“Huh. I guess that explains the pants,” Moonbeam noted. “Still, it’s disgusting.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said flatly. “You done insulting me, or are you gonna let me rest?”

“Actually, I was going to give you your caps, but if you don’t want them…” Moonbeam smirked as the man sat up straight.

“Moonbeam, I swear to god if you try and cheat me I will shove a bottle up your ass,” he said threateningly.

Moonbeam stared at him agape. “I thought we were friends!”

“And because of that I won’t break it first. My caps,” he said, holding out a hand. “Gimme.”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes and levitated a large sack towards him. “Did you have to threaten me like that?”

“Well, seeing that I nearly died for this, I’d say yes.”

“It was a joke, you jerk.”

“Not a very good one,” he retorted as he grabbed the sack. “Three thousand caps?”

“A little less, to cover your medical fees.”

“Sounds right. Well, I’m gonna sleep for a while, then wash my clothes.”

“I’ll probably sleep as well,” Moonbeam said, covering her mouth as she yawned. “I guess the adrenaline rush is over.”

“Yeah, the crash always hits hard,” Thomas chuckled. “See you in a few hours, I guess.”

Thomas hummed loudly as he kneeled next to the bath, scrubbing away at his underpants. It wasn’t a clean task, or a pleasant one, but it was one he had gotten very used to over the years. He wished he had access to a heater, or even a fire. He could make do, though, with wringing them out and waiting.

The task took him close to half an hour, his blood-stained shirt definitely taking the longest. It was left with a large number of ugly brown stains, but he knew he couldn’t do much about it. He decided that he needed to do something while his clothes dried, so he pulled on his underpants and got his rifle.

He placed everything he would need to do the job on the small coffee table. He looked at the couch, deciding not to think why it had a backrest if it was designed by ponies. “Hmm…” he muttered, looking down the barrel. Taking his cleaning rod, a long piece of scrap with a rag tied to one end, he pushed it in and began to clean.

As he did this, Moonbeam stumbled out of her room, yawning as she did. Thomas noticed this and stopped what he was doing. “What?” she asked. Thomas grinned at her and began to move the rod up and down the barrel as suggestively as he could, making her blush. “What is wrong with you?” she asked loudly, feeling a lot more awake.

“Gambling addiction, narcissism, mild alcoholism, a history of chem abuse…” Thomas trailed off as he pulled the filthy rag out. “And of course, the brain damage from a pair of bullets in my brain. Want me to continue?”

“How are you still alive?” Moonbeam asked, staring at him in confusion and awe.

“I’m a stubborn sonofabitch. Comes from growing up in the middle of nowhere and learning to hunt when I was six. By the time I was ten I could put down a rampaging Bighorner with a single 5.56mm round.”

The mare tilted her head. “What’s a Bighorner?”

Thomas shrugged. “Some mutant sheep or something, I’m not really sure. Good eating, though. Hell, I remember when me and…” Thomas trailed off, the smile he had worn sliding off his face. “Me and…”

Moonbeam’s eyes went wide. She recognised this, he’d been wearing the same mask of depression after killing those slavers.

“Tamsin…” he muttered, looking at the ground. “God damn it, Tamsin, why didn’t you listen?”

“Who’s… Tamsin?” she asked quietly.

Thomas looked back up and glared at her. “I thought we agreed that we would talk about this later.”

“Okay,” Moonbeam said carefully, backing away. “I’ll go get some food. You want anything?”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied, turning away.

“If you say so,” she muttered, walking away.

The moment he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. It took him a moment to figure it out, though. This isn’t my bed…

“He should be waking up soon,” someone said.

“Give it time, we can’t rush this,” said another.

Thomas kept his eyes shut, planning on playing dumb while he thought up a plan. He took a quick stock of what he had on him. He was wearing his jeans, with his magnum tucked into the back pocket. Everything else was still in his room.

He knew his Pip-Boy’s HUD wasn’t much use when he was face down, but from the movement in the room he guessed there were at least six others with him.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?”

“We can subdue him easily enough,” someone said calmly. “Besides, it’s not like that gun’s loaded.”

Feeling insulted, he decided to do something. “Where am I?” he asked loudly.

“He’s awake!”

“Who said that!?” Thomas asked loudly as he sat up.

“We are the - ”

“Why can’t I see!?” he screamed, looking around the room in panic. “What did you do to my eyes!?”

“What?”

“Did the spell do something?”

“It shouldn’t have!”

One of the ponies approached Thomas. “Are you okay?”

“Who said that!?”

“Calm down,” the pony pleaded. “We’ll fix th - wait. Your eyes aren’t - HURK!”

Thomas’s hand had shot out and seized the pony’s throat. As he pulled her into a headlock, he pulled his revolver out and placed the barrel against her temple. “You have ten seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on,” he said. Now that he had his eyes open, he realised he could only make out vague shapes. Still, they were enough.

“Don’t worry, he’s bluffing,” one of the voices said.

Thomas began to chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find a way around your security?” he asked. “It doesn’t pick up the things I need to make bullets, did you know that? Very easy to make six rounds when no-one else was in the room.” He waved the gun in their direction. “Talk.”

The ponies stared at him, a mix of surprise and anger crossing their faces. “Why should we negotiate with a hostage-taker!?” one of them asked loudly.

“Ain’tcha being a little hypocritical there?” Thomas asked. “You took me first. The way I see it, turnabout is fair play.”

“Both of you, calm down!” a pony yelled. “We didn’t bring him here to fight!”

“Then why am I here?” the man growled.

“We have a job that - ”

“And you thought abducting me was the best way to go about securing my loyalty?” he asked. “What kind of ass-backwards logic is that?”

“As I was saying,” the pony continued with gritted teeth, “we have a job that you seem ideal for. After all, you managed to take out that raider base alone.”

“I had help,” Thomas pointed out. “And it wasn’t a raider base. It was a war camp. You have no idea how close you were to getting overrun.”

“Impossible,” someone said. “The tower’s defenses saved it during the megaspell exchange. A group of savages have no hope.”

“What about the fact I found enough explosives to cripple the foundations?” Thomas bluffed. “They were gonna collapse the tower under you.”

“They’d have to get through the ghoul-infested tunnels to do that.”

“I blew up easily a few tons of munitions, they would have succeeded.”

The group broke into uneasy muttering. “If what you say is true, then those raiders were a bigger threat than we first thought.”

“Which is why it’s vital that we get him to do this for us!”

“Right here,” Thomas said loudly, tightening his grip on the struggling mare in his arm. “Get to the point, or I’ll start choking her.”

“Let me go!”

“Shut up.”

“The tower’s shield talisman is failing. It’ll last for another few months, easily. However, we want to be prepared,” a stallion explained.

“We have three viable locations where you should be able to find a replacement.”

“And knowing my luck it’ll be in the one I go to last,” Thomas muttered. “What’s it look like?”

“We’ll get you a picture after you agree.”

“Who says I will?” he asked. “You abducted me in my sleep in an attempt to force me to accept. That’s pretty fucking disrespectful of you, the way I see things.”

“Your payment is whatever you desire, within reason.”

That made Thomas pause. “Continue,” he said calmly, loosening his grip on the mare, letting her fall to the ground.

Author's Note

I never thought I would ever type the words 'My junk is not mutated,'
I know there is nothing in canon (at least as far as I'm aware) about what powers the shield spell that let Tenpony Tower remain intact during the megaspell exchange. Work with me here.