Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Scavenge

Moonbeam’s SMG let out a bark as it sent a final bullet into the manticore’s brain. “Dammit,” she muttered, taking out the empty magazine and slotting a new one in its place.

“That could have gone better,” Thomas agreed, bandaging his right arm where he had been clawed. Neither of them had escaped unharmed, both with new bruises and cuts. The desolate park, as a nearby sign helpfully pointed out, had proven a mistake to walk through. Around them were the hole-ridden corpses of a dozen of the strange bat-winged lion-scorpion hybrids. The manticores were smart enough to give them a wide berth after seeing twelve of their own killed, though.

“At least we’re alive,” the mare pointed out.

“Now we’re low on ammo and meds.” The Courier tied a knot and stowed the roll back into his duster. “I don’t think we’ll survive another fight like that.”

“Yeah,” Moonbeam conceded. “We’ll have to avoid - OW!” the mare cried out, stumbling as her right hind leg crumpled under her. “Fuck!”

“Keep it down,” Thomas hissed. He went over to her and took a deep breath. “Oh wow.”

“How bad is it?” she asked, refusing to look.

“Doesn’t look that bad, but...” Thomas pulled a Stimpak out of his duster. “Probably muscle damage. Not much I can do about that.”

“So I need to be carried?” Moonbeam shot a glare at him. “Not happening,” she growled.

The Courier chuckled under his helmet. “Never said I couldn’t do anything. Just not much. Now hold still,” he instructed her, bending down.

“What is - OW!- that?” she asked, her leg twitching.

“Stimpak. Stops bleeding, promotes healing, stuff like that.” He casually threw the useless syringe over his shoulder. “Pre-War miracle.”

The mare carefully got up and was more than a little shocked at the lack of pain. It was still there, but instead of a burning fire it was more like smouldering embers. Her pace would be slowed, but they would still reach their destination by nightfall. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Thomas looked at the manticore bodies that lay scattered around them. They reminded him a lot of Nightstalkers, the dangerous mutant love-child of a rattlesnake, a coyote and genetic splicing. Only these beasts seemed to have a little Deathclaw in them, if the way they had tried to claw his face off was any indication. And something about them seemed completely natural. No mutations, no genetic alteration. And that worried him. “Hey Moonbeam?”

“Yeah?” the mare asked back, slipping her gun back into its holster.

“Those Rangers before, they said something about a Pip-Buck.” He already had a very good idea where this conversation was gonna go, but he had to know.

“Yeah. Some sort of pre-War computer. Leg-mounted personal organiser or something.” The mare turned back to look up at him. “Why?” Instead of answering, Thomas pulled up his sleeve and looked at his Pip-Boy and the frowny face Vault Boy wore. “Is that - ?”

“No, it’s a Pip-Boy,” the man growled back. Now I know this damn world ain’t trying.

“Oh. What’s the difference?” The mare let out a yelp as Thomas gave her a push to get over a large chunk of masonry.

“This was made by Vault-Tec and RobCo. Not... whatever the fuck companies made them here,” he replied, pulling himself up. He found his feet getting lifted up from behind him, a look down telling him that Moonbeam had used her magic. “Thanks.”

“Stable-Tec and RobronCo?” Thomas slowly turned to her. “Are you okay?”

“Let me guess,” he answered in a deadpan. “Great underground ‘Stables’ where ponies were housed in the event of war?”

“Yeah.” Moonbeam looked at him, mouth open in confusion. “Wait, how did you know that!?”

Thomas began to laugh. It wasn’t his normal, happy one, nor was it the same malicious cackling he had performed in front of the Rangers. It sounded odd, like the laugh of a madmare. “Fucking hell. Fucking hell. Fucking hell!” he yelled angrily. “Really, universe!? Really!? The Sierra Madre wasn’t enough!? The Big Empty!? The Divide!? Now you have to throw me into a place that’s a fucking JOKE as well!?” He put his head in his hands and began to take deep breaths to try and calm himself.

“A joke?” Moonbeam asked, offended. “You think this is a joke? Scavenging for a living? Fending off raider attacks and dodging alicorns?”

“Replace ‘Stables’ with ‘Vaults’, ‘ponies’ with ‘humans’, ‘alicorns’ with ‘Super Mutants’...” He looked back at her.

“Wait... your world is a parody of here?”

“No, this world is a parody of the one I’m from.” Thomas took off his helmet and looked at her. There was something new in his eyes. Moonbeam realised that she was looking at someone suffering an existential crisis. “You even have an Enclave. This is too big to be a coincidence.”

Moonbeam couldn’t help but agree. The odds of two separate, alien worlds holding this many similarities... “Wait. Do you have a translation thingy?”

“Heh. Wish I did. Would make more sense than us just speaking the same language, wouldn’t it?” Thomas chuckled again. “This...”

“This is impossible. It doesn’t make sense.” Moonbeam’s head was abuzz with the possible implications and ramifications.

Thomas sighed and pushed past her. “We have a job to do. I’ll have my breakdown later.”

It took the mare a few seconds to catch up. “Wait. You’re going to have your mental breakdown later?” she asked, shocked. “How?”

“I’ve had my brain surgically removed, been forced into a pre-War resort-turned-deathtrap and stopped a man from dropping a nuke because of misinformation. And before all that, I was left to die in a shallow grave with two bullets in my head.” He turned back to her. “Trust me when I say I can keep something like that from happening.”

As the trudged onwards through the ruins of Manehattan, Moonbeam was left with a lot of time to think. The Courier wasn’t in a talking mood, content to stew in his own thoughts. She thought about what he had said, the insane and uncanny similarities their worlds had. Was it simply a freak coincidence? Or was there something more sinister at play?

As the mare tried to unravel this mystery, Thomas was doing the exact opposite, instead thinking about anything except that. Life was easier to deal with as things happened as opposed to worrying about something as maddening as that, after all. He knew this was far from a perfect solution, but it was the only way he could remain functional.

They passed ruined offices, the old towers like so many gravestones in the still, unmoving graveyard that was the city. There was no other sign of movement anywhere, and the only thing that stopped any fits of paranoia was the two Wastelanders’ mutual company. When they found themselves at their destination, it was with a sense of relief.

Moonbeam looked at the old store, the painted signs faded or fallen off long ago. To the left of the chained-up double doors was a large pile of rubble, clearly pushed aside by something with a lot of strength. The windows had been boarded up, the rotting wood not looking strong enough to stop a child. As she walked towards the door, intent on removing the chain, she noticed something.

“That chain looks new.” Thomas saw it as well. It wasn’t new, but it was in much better condition than anything that had sat buried under rubble for two centuries should have looked.

“Somepony’s trying to keep something out.” the mare muttered, looking at the crude, loose knot that had been made by looping the chain around a few times. “Or in.”

“What would someone want to keep in?” Thomas asked, reaching back for his rifle.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be friendly.” Moonbeam unholstered her gun as well, not liking the implications. “Zombies, probably,” she suggested, immediately going for the least threatening option.

“They’re called ghouls,” Thomas muttered. “Even the ferals.”

The mare rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort. She stopped herself when something slammed into the door, trying to force it open. “Was that you?” she asked over the growling.

“No...” Thomas raised his rifled at looked down the sights. Without another word he put three rounds into the door at what would have been chest-height for him. He sighed when the thing inside fell down with a meaty thud. “Can you open that?”

Moonbeam uneasily bit on her gun and unravelled the chain with her magic. The door opened outwards, the weight of a rotting corpse helping push it. “Zombie,” she muttered, pointing her gun into the building.

“Ghoul,” Thomas replied, prodding the ghoul-pony with a foot. “Smells worse than the ones back home, though,” he added, wrinkling his nose is disgust.

More growling sounded from within the building. “No wonder the building was chained shut...” Moonbeam muttered, backing away.

“Kill everything,” Thomas muttered. “We’re doing them a favour.”

“I don’t need a reason. They’re zombies.” The Courier sighed, deciding to give up. “And we need those supplies.”

“What are we waiting for?” Thomas asked, slipping his helmet back on, securing the goggles over his eyes. “They’re coming,” he added, readying his gun as the guttural roars and growling intensified.

Moonbeam fired her gun as the first ghoul made itself visible, coming from the darkness of the old store. The 10mm rounds made short work of its barrel, leaving great dripping wounds, but it kept on coming. The .45-70 Govt. round from Thomas’s rifle obliterated it’s skull, though, dropping the feral ghoul.

“No fair, your gun is huge!” Moonbeam moaned.

“Yeah, and so is my rifle,” Thomas replied with a smirk and a suggestive tone.

The mare took a moment to fully comprehend what he had said. “Eww!”

“Don’t worry, you’re not my type,” he reassured her, putting another round in a feral’s eye.

“Huh?” she asked, trying to focus on the ghouls that were attempting to rush them.

“Yeah, you ain’t bipedal.” He pumped the lever, ejecting a spent shell. “It would feel kinda weird.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’d be like fucking a brahmin or something.”

“Hey! You’re comparing me to one of those brain-dead, two-headed pack-beasts!?” she asked loudly, sounding ready to slam a hoof into the Courier.

“Of course you have the same brahmin here...” Thomas muttered. He fired another shot. “Damn that’s a lot of ghouls.”

Moonbeam reloaded her gun. “Fuck, where are they all coming from?” she asked loudly so she could be heard over their gunfire.

“There can’t be that many left,” Thomas muttered, quickly slotting rounds into the feed. He paused, straining his ears. After a few moments, he activated his heads-up display, which showed no hostile signs of movement. “Huh. That’s nice.”

“What is?” Moonbeam asked, poking her head in.

“Coast is clear.”

“How do you know that?”

He tapped the screen of his Pip-Boy twice before reaching up and flicking the switch on the side of his helmet, turning on his low-light optics. “Be careful, though. You might fall through the floor and break your neck.”

“Wow. Thanks for making me feel safe.”

“Just be careful,” he replied, noting that the glow of the unicorn’s horn would be permanently blinding if he looked directly at it. “I don’t think I can fix a broken leg.”

“Fair enough,” Moonbeam replied, stepping carefully into the store.

The pair progressed in silence, being careful not to trip over a dead ghoul or any debris. Just past the doors were a series of counters, where Thomas could see what looked the pre-War cash registers he had seen in the Mojave and out west. Behind those were shelves upon shelves of food. Almost all of it had fallen off and rotted away, leaving nothing but an ugly stain, but one aisle was reserved for prepackaged and tinned food.

“Holy shit,” Moonbeam muttered, staring slack-jawed at the barely-touched stockpile. A lot of it had fallen off the shelves, resulting in dented and bent boxes and tins, but it was clear that the contents were still as safe to eat as the day they were packaged, which wasn’t very safe at all.

“That is a lot of food,” Thomas pointed out.

“Damn right that’s a lot of food!” The mare began to happily bounce on the spot, giggling like a maniac. “This is great!”

“Heh.” The Courier was at a loss for words as he watched the mare. Is this actually happening? “That is kinda cute.”

The mare stopped. “What.”

Thomas hastily cleared his throat and turned away. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Did you just call me cute?”

“I said nothing,” Thomas said, denying everything.

Moonbeam rolled her eyes, deciding to drop the issue. “Whatever. Can you help me pack? I wanna get back to the Library as soon as possible.”

“I’ll take a look around. Might be some more food around here,” Thomas replied, looking towards the back of the store.

“Good point.” Moonbeam pulled a set of small saddlebags from inside her armour and began to carefully stack the boxes and tins. “Don’t take too long.”

Thomas didn’t bother to respond, instead letting his feet take him deeper into the abandoned building. His eyes scanned the shelves and empty aisles, coming across the occasional skeleton. He felt that the shelves were in remarkably good condition for such an old building. Even the occasional untouched building in the Mojave had shelves that were one strong push from falling apart, but these looked as sturdy as steel. “I wonder what they’re made of...”

His walk eventually led him to a locked door. Falling back on old habits, he grabbed his screwdriver and a bobby pin and went to work. The lock offered no resistance, and the door swung open. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything of value, just a few clipboards, a crumbling unicorn’s skeleton and an ancient computer terminal that refused to turn on.

“Find anything interesting?” Moonbeam asked when he returned, looking at him from where she lay on the ground.

Thomas blinked, at first thinking that the mare had moved to a different aisle. Her saddlebags were bulging, almost on the verge of ripping open, and there were only a handful of boxes of food left out. “Yeah, an old office. Did you get all that into your bags?” he asked, unable to help but think that the bags held an impossible amount for their size.

“Yep,” she answered, sounding a little smug.

“That is impressive,” he admitted. “How long was I gone?”

“I dunno,” the mare replied, rolling her shoulders in a shrug. “Fifteen minutes? Twenty?”

“You fucking work fast.”

“Have to. Sometimes I have to run in, grab what I can and get out before the raiders come,” she explained. “Hungry?”

Thomas knelt down and picked up a box of dried apricot slices. “You gonna be able to carry all that?” he asked, ripping the box open.

“It’s lighter than it looks.” Moonbeam pulled one of the boxes to her with her magic and opened it.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Thomas not knowing what to think about apricot. “I guess I’ll take first watch,” he said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Someone put that chain there. They might come back,” he explained.

“Nopony’s stupid enough to walk through Manehattan at night. Only alicorns and raiders,” Moonbeam scoffed.

“Who do you think chained the door shut?” Thomas shot back. “I’d rather lose sleep over nothing than wake up to some fucker with a knife at my throat.” He scooted backwards and leaned against a shelf. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Author's Note

The Pip-Boys were a RobCo invention. It's safe to assume that Vault-Tec played a major part, though, what with V.A.T.S in the 3000 models and the fact that various models (2000s and 3000s) were distributed amongst the Vaults.
Pip-Bucks, though, were simply Stable-Tec equipment. Which also explains why each Stable has at least some.