Fallout Equestria: SSDW

by Speven Dillberg

Rating: mature
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Crossover, Human, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other, Original Character
Length: 66235

The right man in the wrong Wasteland

A Fallout: New Vegas/Fallout Equestria crossover

After a mishap with the Transportalponder, the Courier finds himself in a ruined city, one he doesn't recognise. With his only way home broken, he has to rely on help from the natives. Of course, they aren't willing to help without a few things in return. And these Wastelands are much more dangerous than the one he knows so well.

No relation to my other Courier in Equestria fics with the exception of Thomas!

Published 2013-06-26 00:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-09 04:25:21 UTC

This ain't the Mojave...

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

This ain't the Mojave...“Stupid fucking Think Tank and their stupid fucking...”

Thomas picked himself up angrily and looked around. This certainly wasn’t the Mojave Drive-In. All around him were ruined buildings, cracked roads and damaged... carts? That last detail confused him. Everywhere he had been had seen at least one wrecked car, a burnt husk of pre-War luxury. These looked as though they’d been designed to be pulled by small creatures, which didn’t make much sense.

Out of curiosity, he opened up the Map tab on his Pip-Boy 3000. Worryingly, a blinking message informed him that it couldn’t find anything. “No connection?” he asked quietly. He grumbled a little as he made his way to the nearest cart. Maybe he could identify something about it, and through that determine where he was.

A brief inspection told him that it looked as though it had been made to be pulled by miniature Brahmin. The back was open and only had two wheels. He guessed this was some sort of transport cart, but it wasn’t a rickety, splintery thing held together by Wonderglue and hope. He knew pre-War manufacturing when he saw it and this, while it wasn’t like anything he had ever seen before, was definitely pre-War.

This... cart was at odds with everything else, though. If whoever built this was capable of building towers easily twenty stories high and paving roads, why would they not use motorised vehicles? A brief thought passed that perhaps every vehicle had been taken because of the war, but he quickly dismissed that. Those cars, even when they had been serviceable, didn’t look particularly versatile.

The brief idea that he had ended up on another world was dismissed the moment it appeared. What could he be expecting, anyway? Intelligent dogs with plasma rifles? That was easily one of the more stupider things he had ever thought. It wasn’t like the Transportalponder was even capable of that.

He looked at the device in his left hand and gasped. The glass cylinder keeping the crackling energy within had cracked, the sleek black casing of the handle was shattered, exposing the fusion battery within, and the small orange cap that concealed the components had split. It still seemed functional, but he did not want to take a risk. There was absolutely no telling just where he would end up or what could happen.

“Great,” he muttered. “Stuck somewhere I don’t know, no way home... at least I’ve got my guns.” If this was part of the Wasteland, then he would undoubtedly need them. After stowing his damaged Transportalponder back into his duster, he checked his armaments. His Sequoia rested on his hip, secure in its holster, while his Medicine Stick and 12.7mm SMG rested on his back, held there by slings. The Displacer Glove had a fully charged small energy cell and his holdouts, his .44 Magnum revolver and his knuckle dusters, were exactly where he had put them.

Checking his pockets, he found a small amount of Rad-Away, a few stimpaks, Rad-X, a few chems and a few bottles of water. “Need to find some food,” he muttered. That was easily the most important thing he had to worry about. Without that, he was looking at a few days before succumbing to starvation.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting shot. Most small calibre weapons tended to just bounce off the body armour of his Elite Riot Gear, and it was definitely intimidating enough for only the bravest of individuals to even consider that course of action, especially with his helmet on.

Pushing himself away from the centuries-old cart, he decided to follow the street, hoping it would take him to a settlement or at least a scavenger.

Thomas found himself reconsidering the idea that he was on another world. It would certainly help explain what he had stumbled across. It was a simple poster, featuring a strange quadrupedal creature, reminiscent of a Brahmin or horse. It was wearing armour that, after a few seconds of thinking, he realised resembled T-45d, although the number of attachments on the back and sides were a little confusing. It was looking proudly off into the distance, probably meant to inspire, though age had left it tattered and worn. Across the top were the words ‘You too can be a Steel Ranger!’ in a bold font. “Steel Ranger?” Thomas asked to himself.

He took in this new information. The fact that he could clearly see an alien creature on the poster only reinforced this new idea of being somewhere that wasn’t Earth. The fact that the words were in perfectly legible English was something else. That just defied logic. He knew odds, being used to gambling in his spare time, and something like this could only be described as ‘astronomically improbable’. It wasn’t like he had any reason to dwell on the matter, though. All that mattered was getting home.

Sighing and walking along underneath the ruined balcony, he heard screaming. At first he ignored it, but the gunfire that sounded three seconds later warranted investigation. He looked around, trying to identify the direction from which it came. The number of ruined buildings didn’t help, creating some sort of twisted echo chamber, but after close to ten seconds he picked a direction and walked.

It didn’t take long at all to find the cause, and he concealed himself from view behind a pile of rubble. When he peeked out, he was surprised by what he saw. There were twelve of them, and they certainly resembled the creature from the poster, though they definitely had no T-45d lookalike. Instead they were wearing spikes, leather straps, scrap metal and bits of ruined clothes. Like raiders, Thomas realised with a shock. The fact that they were quite a bit more colourful than seemed sensible was really insignificant compared to that.

Eleven, he realised. The one with a midnight-blue coat was different, instead wearing a set of what looked like modified combat armour. The odd one out had a horn, and it was... glowing? It definitely looked like it, and Thomas muttered to himself in disbelief when he saw a small SMG levitate next to them.

One of the raiders laughed callously. “You really think that little piece of shit is gonna save you?”

The rest began to laugh. “Put the gun down, and we’ll just rape ya a little!” another of the raiders, a male, called out.

The armoured one was the next to speak. “I’ve already taken out three of you,” she commented. Even from this far Thomas could hear her nervousness.

“And for that, we’re gonna make you pay,” another raider said.

“Tell ya what, if ya turn around and lift your tail, we’ll make your death quick,” one of them offered. This roused more laughter from the group.

“Yeah, downright painless!” another added. Thomas felt even more disgusted when he realised that it had been a female that had said that.

Carefully pulling his lever-action from his back so as not to make noise, he resumed his vigil. The raiders had gotten closer to the other one, and she was waving the gun around, not knowing which one to shoot first. Thomas noticed an assortment of weaponry amongst the raiders, hammers, knives, there was even one with barbed wire around its front legs. He knew that the lone... horse-thing had no chance of surviving. Oh sure, she might take some of them down before she died, but they’d just make her death all the more agonising for it.

He didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, she might be able to help him.

The sudden crack! of a rifle got everypony’s attention, with the exception of the one who fell to the ground, two new holes in his moldy-green head. They all looked in the direction the bullet had come from, seeing a strange, minotaur-like creature headed their way.

“I’m giving you one chance,” it said in a deep, commanding voice, ejecting the casing with a pump of the lever. “You can either leave, or you can die.”

There was something in its voice that brokered no argument. It was going to get what it wanted. But one of the raiders was not planning on giving up his prize that easily. “Oh yeah? You really thi - ” It only took a blink but the strange biped’s gun was against his shoulder, the barrel smoking as another body fell to the ground.

“I don’t think,” the being responded. “I know.”

“W-what the hell do you want?” one of the female raiders asked, backing away slowly.

“Her,” it said, pointing a finger at the mare in combat barding.

“Fuck no!” she said loudly, backing away.

“Yeah, she’s ours!” one of the males said angrily. They were also his last words.

“Okay, that’s it, they’re both dead!” The raiders began to charge at the bipedal figure. Calmly, it dropped its rifle and pulled a different gun off its back. This new weapon was an automatic, and it mowed down the raiders before they could even get close.

The mare watched as the thing calmly reloaded its weapons and walked towards her. She didn’t like this thing. It had just killed raiders like they were nothing! Granted, they were raiders and needed to die, but it had done it so effortlessly. She raised her sub-machine gun and pointed it at the being, doing her best to keep it steady in her magic.

“Put that down, you might hurt someone.” As it came closer, she realised that it was male. There definitely weren’t any outward signs underneath all its clothing, but there was something, perhaps it voice, that was undeniably masculine about it. “Besides, I just saved your life. That’s how you want to repay me?”

“You killed them,” she said nervously.

“It was them or you. And raiders aren’t the kind of folk to give me the help I need.” Those last three words stuck in the mare’s mind the most.

“You need me?” she asked. “That’s the only reason?”

“That, and they were gonna rape you,” he added. He reached up and undid the straps holding his helmet on. The gun aimed at him pointed a bit higher up. “So, what’s your name?”

The mare stared at him. He had a gun pointed at his head and he was asking for her name!? “Moonbeam.”

“Well, nice to meet you Moonbeam,” he said politely. “I’m the Courier.”

Moonbeam looked at the dark-skinned creature’s face. “The Courier?”

“I deliver life and death. Salvation and destruction. Hope and despair. Also mail. Mainly that last one.” The Courier added his last point nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the seriousness of the rest. He scratched his chin absently as he looked around the ruined city square. “Where are we?”

Moonbeam blinked at the abrupt change from a serious tone to a more conversational one. “Err, Manehattan. At least, what’s left of it.” Her voice was hesitant. How did he not know this? The direction he had come from was from the city center. The Courier looked at her blankly. “Equestria?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m lost.” Moonbeam didn’t know what to make of his behaviour. He looked around despondently, as though trying to think what to say next.

“Lost?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m an alien?” he asked. The Courier was rewarded for his question by the sounds of the mare dropping her gun and scrambling backwards into the nearest wall.

“Don’t anal probe me! Please, anything but that!” she pleaded, sounding completely terrified by the idea.

The Courier just stared at her for a moment, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous that was. “I won’t do anything to you unless you want me to.”

“So... you’re not going to probe me?” the mare asked nervously.

“Unless you’re into that kind of thing. Are you?” he asked with a smile. Then it disappeared. “You’re bleeding.”

Moonbeam looked down at her left foreleg, which was leaking blood from a gash just above her hoof. “It’s just a scratch.” Privately she wondered how she had missed it before.

“Yeah, then it gets infected and the only way to save your life is to cut off your leg.” The Courier sighed before reaching into his duster. “Hold still, I’ll do what I can.”

“Stay away from me!” Moonbeam begged, pushing herself against the wall.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have shot you when I shot those raiders,” he pointed out. He pulled his hand out, revealing a syringe and a roll of bandages.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing a shaking hoof at the syringe. A part of her was still incredibly wary. It wasn’t common to meet someone who was this charitable without wanting something in return. That, and a part of her didn’t want to let this alien too close to her.

“Med-X, painkiller,” the Courier calmly explained.

“Don’t bother, chems don’t affect me much,” she said, waving a hoof at the drugs.

He shrugged. “Better than nothing.” In a flash he was by her side. Before she could react the needle had punctured her skin. “Hold still,” he instructed as he started bandaging up the wound.

“Why are you doing this?” Moonbeam asked, too nervous to run.

“Because I want to get home. If putting you in my debt is the way to go about it, then fine. That, and it gets lonely in the wastes,” he added. “A little company is always nice.”

“The wastes?” Moonbeam asked, wincing a little as he tightened the bandages. “I thought you said you were lost.”

“I am. Different wasteland,” he clarified. “A lot nicer than here, that’s for sure.”

“So, what, you want me to help find your mothership?” Moonbeam asked with a careful laugh.

“No,” the Courier replied with a laugh of his own, glancing at the sky. He frowned at the blanket of clouds but thought nothing of it. “I need something fixed.”

“Well, there might be someone who can help back home.” Moonbeam grabbed her gun and pointed it at the Courier. “But I need to know I can trust you to not hurt anyone.”

“If I do, I’ll put a bullet through my own skull.”

The mare’s eyebrows rose up into her mane. She could tell that he was completely serious, that he would do it if he had to. She had never met someone like that. “Okay. Follow me.”

Author's Note

Oh I am a terrible person. I won't deny that.

Knowledge is Power

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Knowledge is Power

The pair’s progress through the Manehattan ruins was slow, careful and tense. Despite his words, Moonbeam was not willing to trust him completely just yet. Thomas was finding the gun constantly pointed at him annoying, especially given the fact that the one holding it wasn’t facing him, let alone touching the weapon.

“What are you?” he asked, hoping to break the silence.

“Pony. Specifically, a unicorn,” Moonbeam replied. “What about you, Courier?”

“Human.” He shrugged when the pony stopped walking at looked at him. “We don’t come in any different kinds. Unless you want to count ghouls and Super Mutants,” he explained.

“You have ghouls where you’re from too?” the mare asked in disgust.

“Watch what you say, some of my best friends are ghouls,” the Courier growled.

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t expect me to make any friends with those rotting freaks.”

Thomas just sighed, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. He glanced at the gun floating next to his head and smiled under his helmet. His left hand lashed out and snatched it out of the air.

Moonbeam’s eyes went wide at the sudden void in her telekinesis. “Hey!” she barked.

“Broken safety, bent magazine catch, and the receiver looks like it’s about to snap off. It’s a miracle this thing even fires,” Thomas muttered, going over the weapon with a very critical eye. What surprised him the most was not the condition the weapon was in, but its unnerving resemblance to a 10mm submachine gun from back in the Mojave. “Seriously, this is more likely to kill you than me at the moment.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Moonbeam asked, snatching the gun back.

“Exactly what I said. That thing misfires, or backfires, or falls apart in the middle of a fight, what will you do then?” he asked. “I don’t see another gun on you.”

“Well I... I...” The pony trailed off awkwardly.

“You’d end up raped, murdered or eaten. Maybe all three,” Thomas pointed out. “If you’re lucky, they’ll kill you first.”

Moonbeam just gaped. She couldn’t understand just how he was able to talk about this kind of thing so easily. “I-I could just use my magic.”

“And if you’re outnumbered?” he asked, clambering over a pile of rubble.

“I’d run.”

“And hope someone can save you,” he replied snidely. “If I hadn’t shown up they would have raped you, slit your throat and stuck their dicks in the bleeding hole.”

The mental image was almost too much for Moonbeam. “S-so what are you saying?”

“Get another gun. Something you can hide,” he suggested.

“Maybe I should get a bigger gun,” the mare mused, her thoughts contrary to the Courier’s. “A battle saddle?”

Thomas opened his mouth to ask just what a battle saddle was but stopped himself when the mare stuck a hoof in front of him.

“Keep quiet,” she hissed, eyes darting across the buildings.

“What is it?” the Courier asked quietly. He looked around as well, but stopped when he remembered he had no idea what to look for.

“Bloodwings,” the unicorn replied, acting as though that was all that had to be said. “We’re about to pass by a nest of the bastards. They shouldn’t wake up, but...”

Thomas didn’t feel like asking much else. All he knew was that anything with a name like that was certainly bad news. “They’re asleep?” he asked.

“As long as we keep quiet.” The mare looked up at the sky. “We don’t have long until night, so we need to be quick. You don’t want to be in the middle of those bloodsucking monsters.”

Thomas tensed. “Bloodsucking? You mean...”

“Just keep your mouth shut, and...” the mare trailed off. “Shit. Hide.” She slunk into the shadows, making herself as small as she could.

“What is it?” He found out a moment later. Approaching from the other end of the street was another pony. Only this one had wings and a horn. It’s coat was a dark blue, deeper than Moonbeam’s and it was much taller and slimmer than her, the strange pony’s head easily able to reach Thomas’s. Oddly enough, it was completely naked.

“Alicorn.” Moonbeam didn’t say anymore, instead looking at the door that led into the building they were outside. “Follow me.”

The building they had entered was dark, gloomy and dusty, on par with almost every ruin Thomas had ever entered. The only difference was that, instead of a human skeleton buried under the collapsed ceiling, there was a pony’s. As used as he was to treating centuries-old remains casually, he still frowned when the unicorn kicked the skull aside.

“This was not a good idea,” Moonbeam said, loudly, looking around. “I don’t know where to go now.”

“Why exactly did you drag us into this building?” Thomas asked angrily, not appreciating being left in the dark like this.

“Alicorns are really bad news,” Moonbeam explained, a hint of panic in her voice. “I have seen one tear apart an entire merc band. Ten heavily-armed griffons, and they all died. We don’t stand a chance.”

Thomas didn’t know what a griffon was, but if that naked pony was capable of killing ten well-armed Wastelanders, that was enough reason for him to avoid them. “All right, so - ” He was cut off by a ear-splitting scream and the sound of hundreds of flapping wings. “What was that?”

“The alicorn pissed off the bloodwings...” Moonbeam growled and started rubbing one of her temples with a hoof. “As if getting back wasn’t enough of a problem! Now we have to go through these damn buildings to get anywhere!”

“Calm down, it can’t be that bad.” Thomas’s hand reached up and flicked the small switch on the side of his helmet, activating the low-light optics. “We just need to figure out which way to go.”

The glow around Moonbeam’s horn intensified, her gun returning to its makeshift holster. “You say that now. These places are fucking mazes. We could spend weeks trying to get out and get nowhere.”

Thomas rolled his eyes as his HUD appeared. “Which direction is your home?”

“We were meant to turn right at the next intersection. From there, it’s three more blocks.” The mare groaned. “Not that there’s any point telling you this, we’ll be stuck here until the morning.” She looked up when he noticed him walk away from her. “What are you doing?”

The Courier was eyeing a door critically. Without any warning his foot lashed out and slammed into it, demolishing the rusted lock. “I ain’t sitting around ‘til morning. Let’s go.”

Moonbeam gaped. “Are you crazy!? Do you even know what’s in these buildings!?” she squawked, backing away.

“Raiders, ferals, robots, giant bugs. Take your pick.” The mare couldn’t tell because of the face-obscuring mask, but she was sure the Courier was smirking. “Calm down. You ain’t gonna die, you’re my ticket back home.”

And there was that reminder that he only saw her as something to be used. That’s all she was, a ‘ticket’. “You do realise that I don’t even know what you need fixed?” she asked angrily.

“You know this city better than me. You’ll know someone, or know someone who knows someone.” That just made the mare grind her teeth. How could he sound so damn confident!? There was absolutely nothing, nothing that ensured anything like that! “You gonna stand there?” he asked calmly.

Moonbeam breathed in deeply and sighed. “Fine. But only because if you get killed I can make a fortune off your stuff.” She hoped the statement would tell him that she saw him the same way he seemed to see her. He only nodded, frustrating her.

Their progress through the buildings was even slower than when they had been outside. They had to tread carefully, lest they fall through a weak part of the floor. More times than they could count they were forced to backtrack and go up or down flights of stairs, or look for another route entirely. Large sections of the buildings had fallen over or collapsed, creating bizarre bridges filled with turned over desks and filing cabinets.

All the while little reminders of the way Equestria had been were there for them to see, skeletons of ponies at their desks or at water coolers, ledgers and clipboards, smashed photo frames, their contents long since worn down by age.

More than a few times they passed skeletons that had a third pair of appendages that resembled giant spindly hands. Moonbeam went out of her way to defile the remains, unleashing some of her pent-up anger on them. “Why do you keep doing that?” Thomas asked after the tenth such desecrated corpse.

“Because those fuckers betrayed Equestria and let it burn. They let the Goddesses die, and they sit on their fucking asses doing jack shit.” There was a lot of anger in her voice as she punched a hoof through the brittle skull. “We have to deal with radiation, raiders, wild animals and slavers. They’re up there in their fucking paradise. Fucking pegasi and their stupid fucking Enclave.”

Thomas couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Enclave?” he asked as he clambered over a desk.

“I don’t know much about them. Just a few things the merchants have heard from Dashites.” Moonbeam sighed. “At least they decided to fuck the Enclave.”

Thomas grunted. He didn’t really think there was any significant chance that they would be anything like the Enclave that had been dismantled by the NCR, but there was no way for him to be sure of that. If they had guns that resembled ones he had seen in his travels in post-apocalyptic America, who could say?

As he passed one of the desks, he saw a sealed bottle on it. Getting closer he was able to read the label. “Sparkle... Cola?” he asked quietly. He snorted. All this place needed was Sunset Sarsaparilla and the Brotherhood and it would be like he had never left home. His smile faded when he saw another bottle labelled ‘Sunrise Sarsaparilla’. O... kay, he thought to himself. That is just creepy.

Doing his best to ignore the eerie similarities this world had with his home, he stowed the bottles in his duster. Maybe bottlecaps were currency here too? It certainly wouldn’t be a surprise at this point.

“I hope we went the right way, Courier,” Moonbeam said suddenly.

Thomas sighed and checked his Pip-Boy’s compass. They had been heading the right direction, he was sure of that much. But he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure they had gone the right distance. All that backtracking and searching for a way to progress had through the buildings had made keeping track of something like that almost impossible. “Try and find a window,” he suggested. “See if you can find your settlement.”

Moonbeam sighed and pointed to their left. “You wanna move half a ton of desks, be my guest.” Some of the desks had been pushed against the windows for some unknown reason, perhaps as some foolish attempt to stop whatever weapons this world had used to destroy itself. While moving them looked easy enough, Thomas knew that it would take far too long. Instead he turned to her, looking at her long enough to make her feel uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me?” she asked.

“Don’t move.” That was all the warning she got before his hands found their way to her undercarriage and she was unceremoniously lifted above his head.

“PUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWN!” the mare screamed, legs flailing about at the sudden and unwanted change of location.

“Stop... moving...” the Courier grunted, barely making himself heard over her screeching. “Can you see... your settlement... or not?”

“YESICANNOWPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWN!” Her screeching was cut off when her hooves hit the floor. “Don’t fucking do that!”

“Damn you’re heavy,” was the only reply she got, the Courier massaging his arms to ease the muscle pain. He let out a cry of pain when her hoof collided with his knee. “Jesus!”

“You fucking do that again and I’ll fucking gore you!” she yelled, spraying him with spit. “The fuck were you thinking!?”

“That you’d be able to see how close we are,” he replied with forced calmness, rubbing his knee gingerly.

“Next time give me some kind of fucking warning, okay?” Moonbeam looked ready to spit fire. “That kind of shit is - ”

“Okay, you’re angry, I get that,” the Courier said suddenly, cutting her off. “Can we wait until later before you try and murder me?” he asked harshly. “Preferably after we’ve gotten you home?”

Moonbeam stared daggers at him. “Touch me again and I will cut off your hand,” she threatened.

“I’d like to see you try,” he scoffed, pushing past her, making sure to brush against her. “Everyone who has isn’t around to tell anyone anything,” he added ominously.

The mare ignored his threat and followed him to the old stairwell. They were currently four levels above ground, and progress down three floors went unimpeded. “Oh come on!” Moonbeam yelled. Unfortunately, part of the ceiling had collapsed just outside the door that would lead to the street, leaving them stuck. “What kind of sick joke is this!?”

“Calm down, we’ll think of something.” The Courier stood there calmly for a moment. “You got any explosives?”

“What?”

“We could probably blast a hole big enough to crawl through,” he elaborated. “Wouldn’t need much, either, one stick of dynamite should do it.”

The mare looked at him, agape. “You’re crazy,” she stated. “You’re completely fucking crazy.”

“This building survived the end of the world. I’m pretty sure it can survive a tiny little kaboom.” She could hear the smile on his face. His right hand rummaged around inside his duster. “I wonder...” His hand suddenly stopped. “How long has that been there?” he asked as he pulled out a single, crimson stick of dynamite. “I thought I used all of you against those cazadores,” he muttered to himself.

Moonbeam just backed away slowly. He didn’t notice, or care, as he carefully placed the stick in position. Reaching inside, he grabbed a lighter and lit the fuse. “Back up the stairs,” he said, rushing past the pony.

A loud explosion informed them that the dynamite had gone off. When Moonbeam poked her head around to take a look, she was pleasantly surprised and unbelievably thankful that there was now a hole she could get through. “That actually worked...”

“Perfect.” The Courier walked past her. “Hopefully no-one heard that.”

Moonbeam wriggled through the hole, scratching her barding. “It’s a bit tight,” she called through the hole. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard snickering.

After they were both through, she led the way again. “It’s in there,” she said, gesturing at a building. It stood out from the depressing walls of concrete and shattered glass by simply not having any. Instead, it was made of a white stone that had stood up well to the superweapon that had wiped out the city, it’s intricate carvings as perfect as the day they were made. A pair of large wooden doors, rotted with age, rested at the top of a staircase. Even from across the street they could make out the sign that read ‘Manehattan Public Library’. Beneath that was a smaller one, which said ‘Knowledge is Power’.

“You live in a library?” Thomas asked, sounding a little surprised.

“Most of the books are still readable, the walls are sturdy, most of the lights still work and all the ways in are guarded,” Moonbeam replied. “Come on!” she said, a spring in her step as she cantered up the stairs.

Thomas rolled his eyes and followed. When he followed her through the doors into what had once been a lobby, it was to see five different guns pointed at him. “Great,” he muttered in resignation before raising his voice. “I’d really appreciate it if you pointed the guns somewhere else.”

“Hey!” Moonbeam said loudly. “He’s with me!”

“Can’t allow that,” a third voice said, “with just your word for it.” An older pony, if his beard was any indication, stepped forwards. He had a brown coat, dusty-grey mane and tail and a strange contraption strapped to his back. Thomas looked at it, trying his best to make sense of it. There was what looked like the backpack from a Flamer, and a pair of... He took a step back when he realised he was looking at the business end of a heavy-duty flamethrower. “Well, stranger?” he asked.

Slowly and deliberately, Thomas pulled his rifle from his back. This action made everypony tense up, but he ignored them as he set it on the ground. He then kicked it over to the hornless pony. He then repeated this process with his SMG and Sequoia. He backed away from his weapons, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want help getting home,” he told them as he did that.

The stallion eyed him critically. “We’ll be keeping an eye on you.” He pushed the guns back towards him. “Keep your guns. If raiders attack, we’ll be expecting you to help us.” As Thomas picked up his rifle, the stallion spoke again. “Welcome to the Library.”

Author's Note

Character interaction is fun!

Bending Steel

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Bending Steel

Moonbeam could only sit and watch in awe as the man expertly and easily stripped down her gun into its components and cleaned every single one. He threw away what was too damaged to use, used spare pieces from the small pile of random parts, and even managed to use parts from completely different weapons.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

“Honestly?” Thomas asked, his mood having brightened with something to help distract him. “I’m not exactly sure. I can just make it work,” he replied, smirking. “Like magic.”

“So, that’s your special talent, fixing things?” the pony asked.

“Who says I only have one talent?” he asked back. He picked up an empty magazine and slotted it into place before throwing it back at the mare. “There. Should be good for a week.”

“Only a week?” Moonbeam asked, sliding the gun into its holster.

“Regular weapon maintenance,” Thomas answered. “The more often you do that, the better shape it’ll be in.”

“Like I have time for that,” Moonbeam scoffed, laying down to get to sleep.

Thomas did the same, but not before one last parting shot. “Well, don’t blame me when raiders are using you as a fuck toy.”

The mare blinked and let out a small whimper. She would not be sleeping tonight, not with those mental images.

It was a bright a morning as one could expect in Manehattan. The area around the Library was quiet, raider activity non-existent thanks to the vigil of those on guard. If there was anyone to watch, they would see the doors to the Library open, a pony and a biped walking out. If they looked closely, they would have noticed the strange way the biped walked, as though he was in pain.

“You did not have to punch me in the gut,” Thomas complained.

“Hey, you gave me nightmares,” Moonbeam retorted angrily.

“Not my fault you’re easily scared,” he muttered in response.

The mare decided to ignore him as she walked down the stairs. “Look, it’ll take at least five hours to get there, and that’s if there’s nothing stopping us.”

“Raiders?”

“If we’re lucky,” the mare answered grimly.

“What, killer robots?” Thomas asked.

“The quickest path there takes us a little too close to manticore territory,” Moonbeam explained as she led him towards the building they had come through the day before. “If we’re careful, it shouldn’t be a problem. We get too close...” She trailed off uneasily. “It won’t be pretty.”

“So why don’t we go another way?”

Moonbeam sighed. “Why do you think those raiders were chasing me yesterday? There’s a damn base in the way, inside an old office building. Only found out when I walked past it and one of them took a potshot at me.”

“Let me guess,” Thomas cut in. “You fired back, got lucky, and pissed off the entire gang.” He looked at her.

“Something like that...” she muttered.

“It happens. Folks don’t usually survive, though,” he pointed out. “You’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Thanks?” Moonbeam asked, unable to tell if he was being polite or snide. “Anyway, every other path would take too long.”

“So, we either walk past the territory of animals that could tear us apart, or try and almost certainly fail to sneak past a raider base. And we have to do that twice.” The mare nodded. “And we’re going there to pick something up and bring it back,” the Courier added.

“You said you’re the Courier,” Moonbeam shot back. “This shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Usually I’d be bringing a lot more firepower and someone I can trust in a fight.”

“Hey!” the mare shouted. “What does that mean?”

“Can you shoot someone between the eyes from half a mile away? Or punch someone so hard it rips their arm from its socket?” he asked, recalling some of the things his past travelling companions had done. “That’s what I mean, someone I don’t have to babysit. It’s not that I don’t trust you as a person, well, pony, but you haven’t given me any proof that you can really defend yourself. Until you do, you’re a liability.”

Moonbeam was flabbergasted. Part of her wanted to hit him again, but she knew that he had a point. All he had seen was her needing help. Well, she had to change that.

“Still, five hours, not that bad. I’m guessing we’ll be camping there for the night?” the Courier asked, pulling his lever-action off of his back.

“Probably. Definitely safer than trying to walk through the city in the middle of the night.”

“Bloodwings?”

“Raiders, too.”

The unlikely pair progressed in silence for a few hours. To their mutual relief nothing exciting happened during that time.

“What’s the deal with the alicorns?” Thomas asked, breaking the silence as he helped pull Moonbeam up a particularly steep pile of rubble.

“No idea,” she panted. “Thanks. I’ve heard them mention things about ‘Unity’ before, but I’ve never stuck around to listen. They don’t do good things to unicorns, apparently.”

Thomas just stared forward blankly. ‘Unity’? It was like this entire universe wasn’t even trying. He knew where the West Coast Super Mutants had come from, exposure to Forced Evolutionary Virus and some sick cult called ‘The Unity’ led by someone only known as the Master. Surely these alicorns didn’t have a similar leader and similar origins. Surely?

“Crap,” the mare muttered. “Get down.”

“What?”

“Rangers.” She pointed and he followed her gaze. There were three ponies, wearing that T-45d knock-off he had seen on that poster. They were looking in the other direction, allowing the pair to make a run for the nearest cover, a slab of an old billboard that had fallen down decades ago.

“Idiots in power armour, so what?” Thomas whispered.

“They have missile launchers and miniguns,” Moonbeam retorted. “I don’t think your barding can save you.”

As much as he wanted to argue, he knew the pony had a point. 5mm rounds had a habit of ripping through everything, and his only saving grace against missiles was his agility. Wouldn’t be much good if he couldn’t move in the first place, though. “So what are we gonna do?”

“Sit here and wait for them to leave.”

“What if they don’t?”

Moonbeam looked around uneasily. “Hopefully I can talk to them, get them to leave. If I can’t...”

“We know you’re there,” a loud, slightly tinny voice sounded suddenly. “Come out slowly.”

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Moonbeam moaned. “Stay put, I’ll try and deal with this.” She took a deep breath and stepped out, leaving the man alone. “My friend can’t move, he’s injured.”

“Really?” one of the Rangers asked. One didn’t have to see his face to know he didn’t believe her. Thomas put his rifle stock against his shoulder, ready to fire if one of those idiots came too close.

“You expect us to believe that?” another Ranger asked, this one clearly female. “For all we know, your ‘friend’ is sitting there with an anti-machine rifle waiting for us to turn our backs.”

Thomas couldn’t help but admit that they weren’t far from the truth. Not that he would shoot them in the back, mind you, he had more dignity than that.

Moonbeam let out a sudden squeak. “We know you can hear us!” the female Ranger said loudly. “You either come out, or your friend pays!”

Thomas gritted his teeth and let out an angry sigh. Of course. They looked like they were from the Brotherhood of Steel, it only made sense that they would act like them as well. He had heard a few horror stories of them acting this way before the NCR became so big. And God help you should your caravan have energy weapons.... “All right!” he yelled, shoving his rifle back into its sling. “I’m coming out! Just let her go!”

As he stepped out, he was glad that he had kept his helmet on. Otherwise they would have seen his murderous expression and burning eyes and assumed he was hostile. “What the hell are you?” one of them asked.

“The Courier,” he responded, smiling with satisfaction as the ponies in power armour backed away. “I said let her go,” he growled, pointing a finger at Moonbeam and the pony holding her with magic.

The pony’s horn stopped glowing and Moonbeam stumbled as she rushed to Thomas’ side. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“No problem,” he replied. “So,” he said louder, looking between the three Rangers, “why did you do that?”

“Do what?” the mare that had been holding Moonbeam, and the only one with a horn poking out of her helmet, asked.

“Threatening her. Does that make you feel big or something?” Thomas asked.

“We didn’t want to get attacked by you,” the horned one replied. Thomas guessed she was the leader.

“So that gave you the right to do that?”

“We don’t have to listen to anything you say, you damn mutant!” one of the other Rangers said suddenly.

“Hey, he’s got a Pip-Buck!”

“A what?” Thomas looked at where the third Ranger was pointing, his left arm. “Oh no, you are not getting my Pip-Boy.”

“I think that’s for us to decide,” the leader said.

“No, I’m the one wearing it, so it’s my choice.” Thomas felt very much like ripping off his helmet and spitting at the mare.

“You really think that?”

“You do not want to make me angry,” Thomas growled, stepping forwards himself. He didn’t care that they wore power armour, or had missiles launchers. They were threatening him with harm. No-one got away with that. “The last guy to do that, I ripped off his face.”

That made the mare back down. “W-what!?”

“Yeah. But you and your little Ranger buddies, I ain’t gonna be that merciful. So either walk away, or spend the next half hour begging for me to kill you.” He stepped forwards again and leaned down, putting his eyes level with hers.

The mare decided that was the moment to grow some backbone. “I am Crusader Strawberry Shortcake!” she boasted. “You will not - ”

The Courier burst into laughter as he stood back upright again. “I’m sorry, what? Did your parents really hate you or something?” He turned around as he put a hand to his face. “Strawberry Shortcake? I have fucked prostitutes with more dignified names, and one of them was called Pussy!” Thomas kept on laughing.

Moonbeam just gaped at her bipedal companion. He had to be insane. He was just laughing at three of the most heavily-armed, well-trained and above-all ruthless ponies in Manehattan. He had just insulted the leader of this trio. “I have nothing to do with him, I swear,” she pleaded as she backed away from the insane man.

“You think you can get away with insulting me!?” Shortcake asked. Her battle-saddle missile launcher whirred into life, the loading mechanism slotting a missile into place.

Thomas spun around, his giant revolver aimed square between her eyes. “You run around, hoarding technology, taking it away from the ‘savages’ who might hurt themselves. You’re worse than raiders, because at least raiders have the decency to wear nothing that normal ammo can’t punch through.” He cocked the hammer. “That’s all you bastards are, highly-organised, highly-trained, technology-worshipping raiders. You want to take my Pip-Boy? You’re welcome to try,” he told them. “But the path I’ve walked is paved with the corpses of everyone stupid enough to get in my way. And the last time three idiots in power armour tried to threaten me?” He began to chuckle darkly. “Well, let’s just say that it was messy. Really messy.”

The two male Rangers looked at each other before silently agreeing to back away slowly. This went unnoticed by the Crusader. “Really?” she asked. “Do you really think attacking a Steel Ranger is a good idea?”

“Do you think threatening someone who ended an empire is a good idea?” he countered. “If you want to walk away alive, you should leave while you have the chance. If you don’t do that, I’ll break your legs, snap off your horn and drag you to the nearest raider camp. I’m sure they’ll appreciate their new toy.”

The Rangers weren’t the only ones backing away now. Moonbeam was terrified. While before the Courier seemed friendly and jovial, now he gave off an aura of malice and sadism. He sounded as though he would enjoy committing those atrocities. He sounded like a raider.

“So, I’ll give you one more chance. RUN.” The Courier laughed like a maniac as Crusader Shortcake turned tail and ran away as fast as her power-armoured hooves could carry her, crashing into the other Rangers in her rush.

Thomas turned around, satisfied with himself. “That was fun,” he said happily, all the malice in his voice gone. “And I didn’t even have to hurt anyone.”

“You’re crazy,” Moonbeam said suddenly.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied lazily. Only after answering her did he realise that she had her gun pointed at his face.

“Stay away from me,” she commanded, doing her very best to keep her voice calm. “I made a mistake, bringing you to the Library. You’re a monster.”

“Is this about what I said to those three?” he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the still-fleeing Rangers. “That was an act. Stopped us fighting, saved us ammo, scared them away. No-one got shot. That’s all I intended to do.”

The SMG pointed lower. “So... you lied?”

“No, I did do all those things,” Thomas admitted. “But they all deserved it.”

“You said you ripped off someone’s face!” the mare yelled back, sounding sick.

“He was in charge of an entire warband of rapists, slavers and murderers,” he calmly replied. “Believe me when I say that he should have suffered worse.”

Moonbeam uneasily holstered her gun. “I still don’t trust you,” she stated, “but I need you. Let’s get going. We’ve still got manticore territory to get through.”

Author's Note

Thomas got nothing but Terrifying Presence speech options.

Scavenge

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.

Barter and Loot

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Barter and Loot

Moonbeam learned a very important lesson when she tried to shake the Courier awake: don’t do it. She received a revolver pushed up against her jaw for her trouble. “Oh,” he muttered. “It’s just you.”

“What the fuck!?” Moonbeam hissed, pushing him away and rubbing her cheek.

“Too many bad experiences.” Thomas casually reached back and stuck the revolver in the back of his pants. With his duster covering it the .44 magnum was invisible.

“Next time I’ll just poke you with a stick,” she muttered. “Besides, we have a problem.”

Thomas understood immediately what sort of ‘problem’ the mare was talking about. “So, they came back,” he said calmly, picking up his rifle.

“I heard them arguing before. They don’t know we’re here yet.”

“So we might be able to sneak out.” Thomas nodded happily at that.

“Yeah, if the only other way out hadn’t caved in,” Moonbeam replied bitterly.

“And all the windows are at the front...” Thomas reached down and grabbed his helmet. “How many were there?” he asked as he did the straps.

“I dunno, at least six,” Moonbeam answered nervously. “One of them mentioned a shotgun.”

“Okay, worst case scenario; there’s at least twelve, and they’re all armed.” Thomas flipped on his low-light optics and treaded softly to the end of the aisle. He poked his head out for a few seconds. “Okay, make that eight and they’re all armed,” he amended when he turned around.

“We don’t stand a chance!” Moonbeam groaned.

“Maybe we can talk with them,” Thomas suggested. “It’s worth a shot,” he added when Moonbeam looked at him as though he was completely insane.

“Oh, yeah, let’s just negotiate with the murderers and rapists! That’ll go well, surely!”

“Here,” Thomas said, passing her his 12.7mm SMG. “I’ll try and talk with them. If things go south, open fire.”

The mare stared at between her SMG and his. “What is with you and big guns?”

“Please, this is nothing compared to the shoulder-mounted machine gun I have at home,” he scoffed. “Now, get ready to cover me.”

Thomas took a deep breath and stepped out, his rifle pointed at the ground. “Howdy!” he called out, getting their attention.

The eight ponies turned to him, a few of them backing away. “What the fuck?” one of them asked.

“What are you doing here?” another asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” Thomas replied, his eyes darting between them. Three of them had horns, and the ones that didn’t had small pistols in their mouths. He saw the drum-barreled shotgun Moonbeam had mentioned before, held up in a unicorn’s magic. It was too dark to tell what gauge it was, but that didn’t exactly matter if she had slugs.

“We’re here to scavenge,” the one with the shotgun said. Thomas guessed she was the leader, simply because she had the biggest gun. “We sealed the ghouls in, and we were gonna kill them all. Guess you did that already?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Thomas tilted his head. Even with his low-light optics, he could make out the shapes of spikes and scrap metal that some of them were wearing as makeshift armour. The others, though, wore what looked like rough leather. He couldn’t be sure if they were mercs, raiders, scavengers or all three.

There was a tense, wary silence. “Look, if you found any food, it’d be great if you handed some of it over,” the leader suddenly said.

“Are you trying to rob me?” Thomas asked, tightening his grip on his rifle noticeably.

“There’s eight of us, and one of you,” the pony with the shotgun pointed out. “The easy way is to share.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Thomas smirked. “You really think anyone would be stupid enough to be out here alone?”

The ponies glanced at each other. “The thing’s got a point...”

“And even if I was, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to kill a few idiots who bit off more than they could chew. Hell, at this point it’s practically routine and trust me, the last people who tried were way better armed than you guys.”

“All right, you’re a tough alien thing, we get it.” The mare with the shotgun stepped forwards. “All we’re asking for is some of the supplies we know you scavenged. We don’t want to attack another trade caravan.”

Thomas’s rifle was against his shoulder in a flash. “Raiders,” he growled. “Shoulda known.”

“Woah woah woah! Put the gun down!” the mare pleaded. “We’re not raiders! We only do that outta necessity. We’d rather trade, believe me.”

“You just admitted to attacking caravans. Why should I?” he asked, his sight not wavering in the slightest.

“It’s not like we kill them! We just rough them up a bit, take what we need,” she explained. “And we need this food! We’ll be dead by the end of the week if we don’t get it, and the next caravan ain’t due in three!” she yelled desperately.

Thomas sighed. That was real desperation, not the sort that could be faked. Whoever this mare was, she was telling the truth. He lowered his gun, and gazed intently at the group. Sure enough, the few that didn’t have armour covering the main parts of their body looked emaciated. He swore he could see one sway uneasily. “What’s your name?”

“Twelve-Gauge,” the mare replied. It took all of Thomas’s willpower to stop himself facepalming.

Well, Miss Twelve-Gauge, my companion and I will trade some of the food with you.” The mare sighed with relief. “But if I find out that you’ve lied to me, I will shove my hand up your cunt and tear out your ovaries,” he growled. “That clear?”

“T-t-that doesn’t seem physically possible!” Twelve-Gauge stammered, backing away fearfully. The other ponies stared at him with revulsion and fear.

“That’s what the last bitch said. I proved her wrong. Moonbeam!” he called out!

“I heard everything,” the mare said unhappily. “Really? You’re planning on giving these guys some of the food we worked so hard to get?”

“Trading,” he clarified. “And don’t worry, if they try anything they won’t be leaving this building alive,” he added, taking his SMG from Moonbeam’s telekinetic grip.

“All up we have about eighty caps,” Twelve-Gauge said suddenly.

“Bottlecaps?” Thomas asked, his eyebrows rising up. When she nodded, he turned around and grumbled. “Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised...”

“How does sixteen boxes or tins sound?” Moonbeam asked, ignoring the man’s strange behaviour. “Five caps each?”

“Four caps,” one of the other ponies suddenly said, stepping forwards. “We ain’t gonna last on two boxes each, not all of us anyways. The extra should keep us going.”

Moonbeam thought for a moment. The Library’s council wouldn’t be happy with this, but the caps they could use to trade would always be a good thing. And it wasn’t like they were relying on only her for food. “I think we can do that.”

“What is it with you and your fucking terrifying threats?” Moonbeam asked loudly, half an hour after negotiating a trade. Despite her bags being a little lighter, they still looked like they belonged on a pack brahmin.

“They’re terrifying, that’s the whole point.” Thomas sighed and looked at the cloud-covered sky. “I’ve gotten hit-squads to run in fear, mercs to cough up the name of their employers and scared information outta people I would’ve had to bribe. The right words, and people will do whatever you tell them to stay alive.”

“So you have no intention of ripping out her ovaries?” she asked skeptically.

“Breaking her neck, sure. I don’t even know what the fuck ovaries are, just remember hearing some of the Followers mentioning it years ago.” He shrugged.

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “So the threat you made to that Ranger is baseless as well, then?”

“Pretty much. Might’ve been better off if I’d killed them, though,” he muttered. “Can’t imagine letting them tell their bosses about me is gonna end well.”

“Hey, that’s your problem. Not mine,” Moonbeam stated clearly. “You get into any sort of trouble with them, you’re on your own.”

“Really?” Thomas asked, sounding a little sad. “After all we’ve been through?”

She was really starting to hate that helmet he always wore. She had no idea what was going on underneath that thing. For all she knew he was scheming to sell her to slavers. “We haven’t even known each other two days. I still don’t trust you.”

Thomas didn’t respond. Instead, he reached inside his duster and threw a pair of bottlecaps at her. “Would those be any good?” he asked.

Moonbeam looked at them, head tilting in complete confusion. “What the fuck is Nuka-Cola?”

“If I had to guess, my world’s take on Sparkle-Cola,” Thomas explained. “What about the other?”

“Sunset Sarsaparilla?” the blue mare asked. “You really weren’t kidding when you said our worlds shared similarities. And no, these would get thrown out. You might be able to sell them as novelties, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“That’s what I thought.” Thomas looked around. “We going to try our luck with the manticores again?”

“With any luck, the raiders will be drugged up out of their minds.” Moonbeam looked down the ruined road that would take them in that direction.

“And if we get in a fight, we can scavenge their stuff.”

“You mean rob their corpses,” the mare deadpanned, giving him a flat stare.

“That’s what I said, scavenge,” Thomas replied cheekily.

“If I wasn’t already lugging around a hundred pounds of food, sure,” Moonbeam answered. “I don’t want to risk getting any of this damaged, though. I’m already gonna get in trouble for trading some of it away, the last thing I want is to give them another reason to get angry with me.”

“A hundred pounds?” Thomas asked, impressed.

“Something like that,” she replied with a shrug. “Probably a bit less, but you get the idea.”

“Alright, how about I clear them out and you take out anyone who tries to run?”

Moonbeam blinked. “Wait. Are you seriously planning on attacking a raider compound by yourself?” she asked in shock. “Can you at least die somewhere I can get to your body easily? I bet a minotaur somewhere would fork over a fortune for your gear,” she added, trying to joke about it.

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Thomas replied slyly. “I’ll be the last thing they’ll never see.”

“Aaaaaaaaaargh!”

Moonbeam watched as the raider fell, or more likely was thrown out of a window five stories up. He hit the ground with a solid thud as his neck gave out and snapped from the impact. “That’s all of them!” Thomas yelled out from the same window. “Wanna help me loot their stuff!?”

“Are you sure you got them all!?” Moonbeam yelled back, ignoring the corpse not ten feet from her.

“I’ll meet you down there!” Three minutes later, the man emerged, sounding a little breathless. His right hand and the contraption he wore on it was covered in blood that wasn’t his, as were his boots.

“What did you do, kick one in the teeth?” the mare asked, taken aback by his appearance.

“More like ten,” he replied casually. “It’s a lot easier to kick someone in the jaw when it’s about level with your waist,” he commented.

“I imagine it would be...” Moonbeam looked around. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

The interior of the building was a lot like the exterior; covered in macabre decorations and blood. “How do ponies live like this?” she asked, trying to hold down her breakfast.

“Drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.” Thomas ignored the sights and made his way to the first body. Its head had disappeared, the coat stained with fresh blood as though the skull had exploded. “Hmm,” he grunted, looking at the bullets.

“If you find any 10mm rounds, can you give them to me?” Moonbeam asked rifling through a different corpse’s pockets.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied absently. “Reckon there’s a first aid kit in here somewhere?”

“Check the bathrooms. Eww,” she moaned, extracting a healing potion that had been covered in blood.

“I saw one upstairs.”

The pair made steady progress upwards through the building, stripping every corpse of anything valuable or useful. By the time they reached the top floor they had found five healing potions, ten rolls of bandages, close to a hundred rounds of 10mm ammunition, three dozen shotgun shells, five frag grenades and enough chems to kill a brahmin. Thomas had never heard of Stampede, Dash or Mint-als, but he was sure he could sell them to someone somewhere.

Their biggest find, though, was a rusty, dilapidated .308 calibre semi-automatic battle-saddle that had been stashed in a cabinet. Moonbeam almost let out a cheer at seeing it, despite its damaged magazine receivers and firing mechanism. Thomas had promised to take a look at it, but he had never seen anything that resembled that, and had no idea how to go about repairing it.

As the mare rifled through a first aid kit and Thomas sipped from a looted bottle of whiskey, they heard something they did not expect. “What the fuck!?” the voice echoed from downstairs.

The man and the mare stuck their heads out the windows and saw close to a dozen raiders standing outside the raider compound. “Well fuck,” Thomas muttered.

“Well now what?” Moonbeam asked, looking at the stairs they had come up.

Thomas instead focused on a number of beer bottles “Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” Moonbeam asked in shock, turning to look at the man like he was crazy. “Don’t worry!? You’re insane! We’re trapped up here, with the only way down through a pack of rapists!”

“Which is why we kill them,” he stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m going to need some cloth.”

A few minutes later, Thomas was ready. Five half-empty beer bottles with soaked rags stuffed in the necks rested in arm’s reach of him. “Okay, how the fuck is that going to help?” the mare asked, getting more and more worried by the second.

“Simple. Alcohol is flammable.” He picked one up and grabbed the lighter holding up to the rag. “I’d rather use flamer fuel, but this’ll do for now.” He stuck his head out and smirked when he saw that the raiders were still arguing about what course of action to take, the broken corpse of one of their fellows distracting them. “Burn,” he muttered as he lit the rag and dropped it.

“Holy shit!”

“Fuck!”

“It burns!”

Thomas smirked as they ran around in panic as the firebombs fell down, burning their matted fur and greasy armour. “Too easy.”

“You know they’re going to come up here now, right?” Moonbeam asked, her gun aimed at the stairs and her saddlebags hidden behind a desk.

“Get behind something, we’ll pick off the survivors as they come up.” Before the mare could respond, he knocked over a filing cabinet and pushed it in front of the stairs, turning it into a makeshift barricade. He then pushed two more next to it, leaving a gap wide enough for only one pony to get through at a time.

“Nice,” Moonbeam commented, nodding from behind the desk she had decided to hide behind.

“Let’s see them get through now.” Thomas unholstered his revolver and aimed it at the chokepoint. Moonbeam’s eyes boggled.

“Sweet merciful Goddesses, you could club someone to death with that thing!”

“Yes, my guns are huge. I’m getting a little sick of hearing you say that,” the Courier said snidely.

“Well excuse me for not carrying around a gun that doubles as a fucking bludgeon.” Before the Courier could retort, she opened fire. “Here they come!”

The roar of Thomas’s Sequoia nearly deafened Moonbeam, and she was on the other side of the room! “That’s two!” Thomas shouted.

Suddenly, something came flying up through the chokepoint and landed with a tink-tink next to Moonbeam. Her eyes went wide as the grenade silently ticked away.

By the time her life had begun flashing before her eyes Thomas had leapt to her, scooped the grenade up and thrown it back. It didn’t make it ten feet before detonating, though, spraying him with shrapnel, the force of the explosion knocking him back over the desk.

“How do you like that!?” the raider who had thrown the explosive taunted, sticking her head up. She hadn’t expected any survivors, so it was a fatal surprise when Moonbeam gave her a few new holes to breathe through.

Moonbeam waited a few seconds before rushing to Thomas. “Courier!” she shouted. “You okay?” His right arm was missing a lot of skin where the metal plate wasn’t providing protection, and the raw wounds were bleeding quite a bit. His body armour had stopped a lot of the shards of metal from doing any real damage, but the sight of the twisted metal embedded in his faceplate was far from reassuring. “Courier?” she asked, now sounding especially worried.

“Oh god,” he muttered. “This is worse than that time with Fisto...” The man unsteadily pushed himself up and winced when he got a good look at his arm. “Shit.”

“Oh thank goodness you’re okay,” Moonbeam collapsed onto her stomach and sighed in relief. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You were frozen in fear. That grenade was gonna kill you,” Thomas replied, carefully removing his helmet.

“It nearly killed you, though.”

“Yeah, I’m not the sort to think things like that through.” Thomas grimaced from the pain as he looked at the damage done to his helmet. “I think the ventilator is fucked.”

“What about your arm?” Moonbeam, shocked at how casual he was about his wounds.

“Some bandages, a Stimpak, and I’ll be good.” His left hand fumbled around in his duster, trying to find what he was looking for, but he was stopped when the mare levitated something in front of him.

“Drink it,” he ordered, shaking the healing potion to make sure he was focused on it. “It’s safer than stabbing yourself with a needle.”

“I didn’t think you cared,” he said as he took the bottle.

“Hey, you’ve got the most firepower, I’m not gonna let you die. You might wanna pull out the shrapnel first,” she pointed out, gesturing at his arm.

“Can you do that?” Thomas asked. “I’m not as good with my left hand as I am with my right.”

“I guess. Give me a moment to look for some tweezers or something.” The mare rushed off for the first-aid kit she’d been rummaging through. “Tweezers, disinfectant and bandages. Perfect.” Moonbeam returned and began her work. “Hold still, would you?”

“Jeez, that stuff stings.”

“Stop being such a baby.”

“How do know what you’re doing, anyway?” Thomas asked, wincing as the mare extracted a bit of metal.

“We’re all taught first aid. It’d be pretty fucking stupid to rely on one pony to patch someone up, especially if our main doctor gets shot,” she explained. “That should do it.”

Thomas downed the potion without hesitation before unstrapping the metal plate from his arm. As Moonbeam retrieved her saddlebags, he hastily bandaged his wounds. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, the smell is starting to get to me,” Moonbeam replied, waving her hoof in front of her face.

Arrival and Departure

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Arrival and Departure

The weight of their extra loot weighed the pair down, making the trek back to the Library harder than it would have been. Thankfully the rest of their journey was uneventful. Due to the damage it had received, Thomas had decided to remove the ventilator, keeping his helmet on.

Thomas put a hand against the door to push it open, but stopped himself. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” Carefully, he eased the door open. The lights in the lobby had been turned off, but he could make out a pair of shadows at the other side. His ears perked when he heard them talk.

“Damn it, they should be back by now!”

“Calm down,” the other said. “We told them to bring all the heavy firepower, they’re just being careful.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” One of them slammed a hoof into the door blocking their way. “Not like we can just march in, either.”

Moonbeam had to bite back a gasp. Raiders, here? She couldn’t believe this was happening. The last time a gang had gotten this brave she had been a filly, and only knew about it because her mother had told her about it. She turned to look at the Courier, but was confused when he was nowhere to be seen.

Her eyes went wide when she saw what he was doing. Silently creeping towards them, with his revolver drawn, he looked as though he was going to take them out. Not that she could complain, but she would have appreciated it if he had given her a warning.

“Did you hear that?” The raiders turned around, seeing nothing but the closed door.

“You’re getting jumpy.”

Moonbeam let out a breath, as she leaned against the door. They had almost seen her. Oh sure, she could manage those two alone, but they had mentioned something about reinforcements. If they showed up as she was fighting off them, then it would only end in one possible way.

“Moonbeam?” a voice suddenly asked.

She fought down a squeal and whipped out her SMG. “Who was that?”

“Calm down,” the voice replied, its owner stepping out from behind a pillar.

“Oh, Rubble, it’s you,” the mare said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I thought it might have been a raider.”

“That’s why I’m out here,” the concrete-grey earth pony stallion replied. “Where’s your alien friend?”

“In there,” she answered, jerking a hoof over her shoulder.

“Is he gonna be okay?” the earth pony asked.

“YEAAARGH!”

“That wasn’t him, so I think so,” Moonbeam replied uneasily.

The pair poked their heads through the door in time to see Thomas punch one of the raiders in the jaw. The second was lying on the ground, whimpering with his front hooves between his hind legs.

“What did you do?”

Thomas looked up and waved. “Oh, nothing, just a boot to the balls.”

Rubble winced. “Did ya have to do that?” he asked.

The man shrugged. “It was a perfect target.”

“And the other guy?” Moonbeam asked.

“He should be up soon.” The downed stallion groaned. “See?”

“I think you broke his jaw,” Rubble added, poking the unconscious stallion with a hoof.

“Good,” Thomas said, shaking his hand around. “What are we gonna do with them?”

“A bullet in each of their heads, then we’ll throw them out the building, let the bloodwings eat them.”

“Harsh, but fair,” the Courier said appraisingly. “Want some help?” he asked, pointing his gun at the stallion he had kicked from behind.

“Not yet,” Rubble answered. “First we’re gonna want some information outta them.”

“Okay, I have to drop off this food,” Moonbeam said uneasily, not liking where this looked to be going.

“Oh yeah,” Rubble said, looking away from the downed raiders.

“I’ll go with you,” Thomas added.

“I thought you were gonna help me?” the stallion asked, looking at the man in confusion.

“You’re gonna do it now?” the man asked back.

“Well, yeah. Don’t want to give them a chance to escape, do we?” the concrete-grey pony pointed out. “And the council are gonna want this done quickly.”

“I guess that makes sense. Moonbeam?” he asked, turning around. To his mild disappointment, the mare had disappeared, moving a lot quieter than her hundred-pound saddlebags should have allowed her. “Huh.”

The stallion that Thomas had decided to attack from behind was still whimpering, refusing to move his hooves. “Hoohohohooo…” he moaned, a few tears escaping.

“How hard did you kick him?” Rubble asked, eyebrows disappearing into his mane.

“He did go into the air. And these are steel-cap boots…” Thomas blinked. “I might make a cup outta scrap metal or something…” he muttered.

“Steel… cap?” The stallion shuddered.

The Courier ignored him and instead grabbed the stallion he had kicked, dragging him up to eye-level. “Okay then, you gonna talk?”

The stallion didn’t say a word, the only sound escaping his mouth high-pitched squeaks.

“I think you might have broken him…” Rubble said uneasily.

The man sighed. “Look, if you talk, I’ll do something about the pain. Okay?” The stallion looked at him, his eyes wide as if to ask ‘Really?’ When the man nodded. the raider opened his mouth to speak.

“W-what are you?”

“Answer my questions, then I’ll answer yours,” Thomas replied after a moment of deliberation.

“W-we were gonna take this place as a new base.”

“So you were gonna kill everyone?”

“N-n-no, we wouldn’t have enough ammo. Just w-wanted to scare them off.” The stallion smiled strangely. “The rest of the crew is gonna get here, and you’re gonna die.”

“You mean the ones from the little base about three hours from here?” the man asked. “Because they’re all dead.” He smiled grimly when the stallion gaped.

“N-n-no… You’re lying.”

“Do I look like I’m lying?” the Courier asked, one of his hands moving away from the pony’s throat.

“But there were forty of us…”

“Yeah. Were.” Thomas placed his revolver against the stallion’s temple.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Stopping your pain,” he said, tightening his grip on the trigger.

“N-no - !” The stallion tried to squirm away but failed.

Moonbeam was helping an older unicorn unload her bags in the Library’s pantry/storeroom when the Courier decided to reappear. “Have fun interrogating him?” she asked, not turning from her task.

“Didn’t even take two minutes.” Thomas reached down and grabbed a box of processed macaroni and cheese. The unicorn snatched it from him.

“Well good.”

The other unicorn, pale yellow with a spatula cutie mark on her haunches, rolled her eyes as she took out a stack of packaged food. “Moonbeam, we’ve been over this. It’s necessary,” she said, not looking at either her nor Thomas.

“I don’t have to like it, though,” she shot back. “I know you don’t like it either, Cookie.”

“It’s how we’ve always done things,” Cookie explained wearily, as though she had gone through this same conversation a hundred times. “You can’t expect the Council to just change something because you don’t like it.”

“I don’t expect that,” Moonbeam shot back, placing a number of boxes on the shelves, “I’m not stupid.”

“You can’t just let them go,” the Courier added. “They’d come back, angrier and more willing to hurt someone.”

“See,” Cookie said with approval, “he understands the way - eep!” The mare jumped back when she caught sight of Thomas for the first time.

“Cookie, this is my alien friend Courier,” she explained as the other pony tried to stop her heart from exploding through her chest.

“So we are friends?” Thomas asked.

“I guess?” Moonbeam shrugged. “We saved each other’s lives, after all.”

Thomas was ready to point out that he hadn’t exactly been in any true danger of dying, but ultimately decided against it. She’d helped patch him back up, a process that would have been longer and more painful had she not been there, and for that he was grateful. “Yeah. We did.”

The older mare, now recovered from her shock, looked between the two. “So, when’s the wedding?” she asked cheekily.

Moonbeam’s magic went haywire, sending a box of food flying across the room. “Oh, no,” Thomas said loudly. “No no no! I nearly got married once, I’m not going through that again!”

“Oh?” Cookie asked.

“Yeah, a night full of drinking with a good friend. The next morning I nearly ended up with a shotgun jammed up my nose,” he replied darkly.

“What kind of friend does that?”

“One with a short temper,” Thomas said. “We got it all figured out, though, all that matters.”

“Cookie, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Moonbeam asked angrily, smacking the older mare in the head with a box of processed apple chips.

“Oh, let me have my fun,” Cookie replied cheekily, ignoring the blow.

That night, when Moonbeam went to her room, she found Thomas sitting on his mattress, flipping through the tourist’s guide. His duster was neatly folded up at the base of his makeshift bed, with his guns, body armour and helmet sitting on top of and next to it. “I know where to go.”

“Oh?” she asked, placing the rusty battle saddle against a wall.

“The Ministry of Arcane Science hub. Even if it’s abandoned, then there’s gotta be something in there I can use to at least get started.”

“You mean Tenpony Tower?” the mare asked.

“Tenpony Tower?” he asked back.

“Yeah, it’s where DJ Pon3 broadcasts from. There’s a settlement there too,” she explained.

“Broadcasts?” Thomas tapped a few buttons on his Pip-Boy. “How the hell did I not think of this earlier?” he muttered. Suddenly, it started making noise.

“ - stay the hell away from the alicorns. We haven’t been able to confirm anything yet, but all signs point towards really bad things. Stay alert and stay safe. Also, that strange biped I talked about a few days back? It went and took down an entire raider compound, by itself. If you see this guy, give him a big thank you on my behalf. And big guy, if you’re listening, feel free to drop in. Now, back to the music.” The stallion’s voice gave way to a mare, singing a song he didn’t recognise.

“How does he know about the thing with the raiders?” Moonbeam asked.

“No idea.” He turned off his radio, letting silence fill the room. “So, a settlement in there? Reckon I can find someone who can help?”

“I… maybe?” Moonbeam shrugged. “Only way to find out is to go there.”

“Alright then.” Thomas set the book down. “Then that’s where I’m headed.”

“Tomorrow, right?” the mare asked, unstrapping her armour and levitating it to one of the room’s corners.

“I am not suicidal. Even if my optics were working properly,” he waved a hand in the vague direction of his belongings, “those bloodwing things don’t sound like something I want to get too close to.”

“Your what?”

It took the man a moment to remember that he had never explained why his helmet was so valuable. “This helmet,” he said as he leaned towards it, “has a built-in air filter, low-light optics to see in the dark and enough protection to stop a hollow-point three-oh-eight round dead.” The mare stared at it in awe. “Best thing I’ve ever pulled off of a corpse,” he added, smiling as he picked it up.

“Ew.” Moonbeam turned away.

“Like what you’re wearing didn’t come from a dead guy,” Thomas retorted.

“Yeah, but this wasn’t pulled off a corpse,” the mare pointed out. “It was looted from an armoury years ago.”

“Along with half of the guns here?”

“Probably? Oh yeah, speaking of guns,” the mare said loudly, “didn’t you say you were going to take a look at the battle saddle?”

“Don’t expect anything, though,” he warned. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“You don’t have battle saddles where you‘re from?”

Thomas gave Moonbeam a flat stare. “How do you think I’m meant to use one?”

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about. “I’m tired,” she said defensively. “It was a long day.”

“I’ll give you that,” Thomas conceded. “Do you want me to do this now?”

“Yeah, sure.” She levitated the machine over to him, where he took it and set it on the floor.

After a few moments of staring at it, trying to decide where to start, he looked back up. “I’m gonna need a lot more than just a screwdriver for this.”

“I bet Sparky won’t mind lending you her toolbox.”

It took Thomas hours to put the device back together, but when did it was in much better condition. There wasn’t much that could be done about the exterior rust with what he had on hand, but the internal mechanisms and magazine feeds were incredibly simple to fix. Having to use parts from other guns resulted in one side of the battle saddle being bulkier than the other, though Moonbeam assured him that it would have no adverse effect on its operation.

The next problem lay in where to obtain ammunition. To the man’s dismay and irritation, .308 rifle rounds were somewhat expensive and rare. The machine was almost better off as a bartering tool. He resolved to get his hands on enough scrap metal to craft a few rounds, though, to tide them over.

The next morning, Moonbeam was nowhere to be found when he woke up. He didn’t think anything of it until she happily pranced back into the room, humming to herself. “Well someone’s happy,” he commented.

“I don’t have to stay cooped up in here,” she replied. “They want me to go to Tenpony.”

Thomas couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “And why is that?”

“They want me to get more trade caravans to come this way,” she explained, grabbing her barding’s armour plates. “We only get one a month, and they want at least one every two weeks.”

“Seems strange they’d send a scavenger to do the job of a sweet-talker.”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “I know what we’re likely to find. Some merchants will only take chems, or food, or guns. None will take rare tech, though, the Rangers took all of them out years ago,” she added sadly.

Thomas didn’t say anything, his thoughts taking him back to the first time he encountered what was left of a caravan the Brotherhood had attacked. It had also been the first time he’d seen just how deadly a laser rifle could be, capable of burning bottlecap-sized holes through metal or turning a man into a pile of ash. That’s why he preferred traditional firearms, they tended to leave enough of a body to rob. The Steel Rangers seemed to prefer gunpowder, though, which struck him as a little odd. Maybe this world had never managed to reach the point of laser and plasma weaponry?

“Let me guess, they want me to make sure you get there alive.”

Moonbeam paused as she tightened a strap. “I… They didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t surprise me if the only reason they’re sending me now is because you’re going in that direction, though,” she admitted.

“So, an escort job,” the Courier muttered. “At least I don’t have to fake us getting attacked.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he replied, waving her off.

Author's Note

There was meant to be a quest (if you can call it that) that revolved around the Courier and Cass getting drunk, waking up the next morning to find out that they had been married by the King, in true Vegas style.

The Trouble with Transit

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

The Trouble with Transit

Thomas cast an eye at the cloudy sky. “Would it be too much to ask for some sunshine?”

“Yep,” Moonbeam replied, using the barrels of her battle-saddle to push past the man. “The pegasi think we don’t deserve it because they lost their capital about two hundred years ago.”

The man caught up with the mare, looking around at the ruined buildings. “How long since the nukes fell, anyway?”

The unicorn paused for a second. “What the fuck is a nuke?”

Thomas sighed. “Right. It’d be too easy, wouldn’t it?” he asked no-one. “No wonder our Rad-Aways are so different.”

“What do you mean?” Moonbeam asked, hopping over the rusted remains of a cart.

“My Rad-Away purges the body of gamma radiation.”

“The only radiation I know about is balefire radiation,” the mare explained.

Thomas took that in before rolling up his sleeve, taking a look at the Pip-Boy strapped to his left arm. “Well great,” he muttered, “this thing is practically useless.”

“How is a Pip-Buck useless?” Moonbeam asked, looking at the man like he was an idiot.

“Again, Pip-Boy,” he said. “No maps, a useless geiger counter, a medical function I hardly need and a radio that’ll attract every single raider to us if I turn it up too loud. The only thing stopping me from trying to get this thing off is the heads-up display,” he explained. “At least I can crack a skull with this thing,” he muttered, tapping at the screen

“What do you mean, no maps?” Moonbeam grabbed his arm and pulled it down, trying to get a better view of the screen. She tapped it a few times before giving up. “What the hell kind of touch interface is that!?” she asked angrily, glaring at the offending device.

“One not built with hooves in mind,” Thomas deadpanned. “I go to the map tab, and all it says is no connection.” He showed her the screen, where it definitely showed the words ‘NO CONNECTION’ blinking on the screen.

Moonbeam just stared at him. “And you just gave up? You didn’t try anything?”

“I don’t want to break this thing, don’t know the first thing about fixing it.” Thomas raised his arm up again. “So, what do you think I should do, Miss Pip-Boy Technician?” he asked flatly.

“I don’t know,” she replied angrily. “Tap the screen, see what that does.”

He did as she said and was rewarded when the flashing message changed to ‘TESTING CONNECTION...’ A few moments later, it became ‘CONNECTION ESTABLISHED’. “Huh,” he grunted. “Maybe this will - ”

He stopped and stared at the screen as, instead of a map, a jumbled mess of letters, numbers and symbols appeared. “What the fuck?” His alarm only grew when the mess kept getting bigger and bigger, filling up the whole screen. “No no no no no,” he muttered, tapping at it in an attempt to make whatever was happening stop.

When the entire screen was full of gibberish, another message flashed up. ‘DATA READ ERROR.’ “What’s wrong?”

“If you broke my Pip-Boy, Moonbeam...” he growled, quickly switching to the medical tab. To his relief it seemed completely unchanged. “Oh thank god.”

“What happened?” the mare asked, a little worried by the sudden threat.

“No idea.” Thomas opened the map tab again and was greeted by the same indecipherable mess. “I think my computer isn’t compatible with your computers, though.”

“I… think that makes sense?” Moonbeam asked. “So, no map?”

“Can you make sense of this?” Thomas asked, showing her the result of attempting to download a map.

“No map. Great.” The unicorn pushed his arm away. “Well, at least we know which way to go. Tenpony is a big tower linked to the old monorail. If we can find a monorail station, we can just walk there.”

“Monorail, huh?” Thomas asked. “You know where the nearest station is?”

“No point, the rail fell apart years ago,” Moonbeam explained.

“So we follow it to the next one,” the man replied.

“I haven’t got any better ideas…”

Their journey had started from the Library, heading east. As much as Thomas wanted to, he wasn’t allowed to take the tourist guide, and by extension its map, with him. When he had asked, Spectacle had smacked him in the shin, all the encouragement he needed to drop the subject. Thankfully a few signs had remained intact over the two or so centuries, and they followed those to the monorail station.

“So, back to my original point,” Thomas continued, “when did the world end?”

“If the magical calendar in the Library is right, about a hundred and ninety-five years ago,” Moonbeam answered after taking a moment to think about it. “I don’t trust it, though, the spell matrix on that thing is pre-War,” she added.

“Yeah, pre-War tech tends to be - wait. What the fuck’s a spell matrix?” He looked down at the mare, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair.

“You don’t know what a spell matrix is?” Moonbeam asked in disbelief.

“As much fun as it looks, I’d rather not walk around with a large phallic object attached to my head,” he shot back. He jumped over the hoof that lashed out. “No I don’t know what a spell matrix is.”

“You could have just said that instead of insulting me,” the mare groaned. “Basically they power all the pre-War tech. Those Rangers’ power armour is loaded with spell matrices.”

“Ah,” Thomas suddenly said. “Instead of circuits and vacuum tubes, that’s what you use. Well, at least I can rub that into the Rangers’ faces next time I see them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think the fundamentally differing natures of our technologies are what stopped my Pip-Boy from getting anything from the satellite a few minutes ago, not a different computing language,” he reasoned. “Because of that, there is absolutely no way my Pip-Boy will be any good to those Brotherhood wannabes. They wouldn’t know the first thing to do with it,” he chuckled.

“Do you really wanna go out of your way to antagonise one of the most dangerous groups in Manehattan?” Moonbeam asked, not even bothering anymore with trying to hide her emotions.

“They started it,” Thomas replied.

“They have the resources, numbers and training to finish it,” the mare shot back angrily. “What do you have?”

“My gun, my armour, and a good friend?” he asked tentatively.

The unicorn just gave him a flat stare. “Don’t count on it. Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.”

“If I had a death wish, I wouldn’t be alive to have this conversation.”

Moonbeam just kept giving him that disbelieving stare. “Right. And I’m secretly Princess Luna in disguise, here to make Equestria the happy, love-filled country it was before the balefire and megaspells fucked everything up. Do you really think I’m fucking retarded or something?”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do…” she muttered

Moonbeam was still in the middle of her explanation about how the Equestrian Government had been like in the past when they arrived at the second monorail station. True to her word, the rails at the first had indeed fallen down at some point in the past two centuries. The second was in much better condition.

Thomas looked up at it, noting the similarities the dead monorail carriage poking out of the station had to the one at Camp McCarran. The station itself looked to be suspended at least thirty feet in the air, with the rail sloping upwards the further it went. The building looked as though it had once been something amazing to see, but with its shattered windows, rusted metal and filthy exterior it was just another blight on the eye in the ruined city.

As he climbed the surprisingly-intact staircase, he heard something. “Did you hear that?” he asked, holding a hand up to stop Moonbeam.

“No, I… wait…” The mare cocked her head. “Voices.”

Thomas carefully made his way up the stairs, not making any noise as he ascended. Moonbeam tried her best to imitate him, but she couldn’t pull it off. Thomas turned to glare at her before continuing up.

They were greeted by a set of turnstiles that led to the interior of the station. They could make out a barrel fire set up in front of one of the monorail carriages, and a number of silhouettes around it.

“I’m telling ya we should have left hours ago!”

“What difference is one more day in Manehattan gonna have?”

“Yeah, shut up Pitcher,” a third voice said. We don’t have a thing to worry about.”

“Do you reckon we can risk it?” Moonbeam asked, turning to Thomas.

“They seem friendly enough,” he replied uneasily. “Still, be careful.” Thomas stepped into the station, over a rusted turnstile, as he slowly walked towards the three ponies. As he got closer, he saw that two of them didn’t have horns, while the one that did was a mare. “Howdy!” he called out.

The three turned suddenly, the unicorn pointing a sawn-off shotgun at him. “What the hell?”

“I’m not here to cause any trouble,” Thomas replied. “I’m just after some directions, maybe a conversation.”

The trio looked at each other, the unicorn putting the shotgun down. “All right then…”

The Courier turned around. “Hey, Moonbeam!” he called out. “It’s safe!”

The mare uneasily made her way to the man. “Something about this doesn’t feel right, Courier.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “They didn’t shoot at us, and they’re not trying to rob us. I’ll take that as a good sign.” He made his way over to the barrel and sat down. “So, what’re your names?”

The two earth ponies looked at each other. “I’m Batter, that’s Runner,” one of them said, pointing at the other. In the flickering light of the fire, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart. They both had brown coats and dull orange manes and tails. They were wearing some sort of cobbled together armour, pieces of scrap metal bent to fit their body over a set of pre-War clothes.

“And I’m Pitcher,” the unicorn added. She shared the same mane and tail as the two stallions, but her coat was closer to red. “So, Courier and Moonbeam? What are you, some sort of minotaur?”

“Sure,” Thomas replied as he eased himself down next to the unicorn. He didn’t know what a minotaur was, but decided to go along with it because it looked like it would make a brilliant cover story.

“What kind of minotaur doesn’t have horns?” Runner asked loudly.

Thomas just glared. He did not appreciate having holes poked in his cover story. Moonbeam, however, had other ideas. “Real sensitive, aren’t you?” she asked nastily.

The earth pony looked away, muttering an apology under his breath. “Ah, it’s like that, huh?” Pitcher asked. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. Met a unicorn with his horn going sideways once.” She and Moonbeam shared a shudder. “Wasn’t pretty.”

“Met a guy who looked like half his face was melting off,” Thomas commented. “Perfectly nice guy, just ugly as fuck.”

“Hang on…” Batter (or it may have been Runner) looked the Courier up and down. “You’re that guy the DJ’s been going on about.”

Thomas unholstered his revolver and began to inspect it for damage. “So?”

“I think that guy’s blowing things outta proportion,” Runner (or perhaps Batter) said. “I mean, who the hell could take out a raider base by themselves? That’s the kind of shit alicorns do.”

“You know that’s not like DJ-PON3,” the other stallion retorted. “He gets stuff wrong sometimes, but he never lies.”

As the brothers began to argue, Pitcher rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how mum put up with those two…”

“They’re your brothers?” Moonbeam asked as she sat down, careful to not scuff her battle-saddle.

“Sometimes I wish they weren’t,” the other mare replied. “All they ever do is fight each other. So,” she said loudly, trying to steer the conversation in another direction, “why are you even here?”

“On our way to Tenpony,” Moonbeam answered. “Thought we’d take a shortcut and walk on the monorail.”

“You’re gonna want to watch out for the bloodwings,” Pitcher said. “That and you want the Celestia line. This station is part of the Luna line.”

“I saw a map before,” Thomas butted in. “I’m pretty sure the Luna line gets within a few blocks of the building. We could walk along ground level,” he added.

“You’re gonna wanna watch out for raiders, then. Pretty sure they have a base or something they use to pick off traders.” The red unicorn yawned.

Thomas chuckled. “Yeah, a few drugged-up assholes with rusty guns aren’t gonna be a problem,” he replied confidently.

“I dunno, heard reports that they’re actually pretty well organised,” Pitcher said cautiously. “Still, not my problem if you get killed.”

Moonbeam looked at the mare oddly, a little uneasy about how uncaring she was. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“On our way to New Appleloosa,” the mare replied.

“New Appleloosa?”

“Small trading town, not much there,” Pitcher elaborated. “Maybe a hundred ponies, if that. But they have a Dashite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, a handsome buck called Calamity. Hmm, what I would do to him…” Pitcher smiled at the thought of the mysterious stallion. “And his accent…”

“Is she talking about that damn pegasus again?” Batter asked loudly, a little disgusted by how his sister was acting.

“Like you’re one to talk!” the mare shouted suddenly. “I’ve seen that copy of Wingboner Magazine you think we don’t know about.”

As the family devolved into bickering, Thomas and Moonbeam glanced at each other. “Well I didn’t expect this,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, me neither.” Neither of them made to interfere, not even when Batter pulled out an old baseball bat from somewhere and started threatening his sister with it.

Suddenly, the pair heard something that was out of place. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah…” Thomas looked around for a moment before deciding to pull up his heads-up display. In addition to the markers belonging to Moonbeam and the three siblings, there was a sixth. Looking around, he found that it was pointed in the same direction as a monorail carriage. “Stay here,” he whispered.

He made his way to the door and, taking a moment to get a good grip, wrenched it open. It was too gloomy to make out anything, but he could hear sobbing. He already suspected what he was going to find, but he had to be sure. Turning up his Pip-Boy’s screen he found a mare, covered in dirt, bound and gagged, crying her eyes out. When she looked up at him, it was with a mix of fear and hope.

“So,” he said loudly as he turned around, forcing himself to keep calm, “do you three mind explaining why the FUCK you have a pony tied up back here?”

“What?” Moonbeam asked loudly.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Pitcher asked, untangling herself from her fight with her brothers.

“Answer the question,” Thomas growled.

“Why the fuck should we do what you say?” one of the brothers asked.

“You said you heard the DJ talking about me. What did he say, exactly?”

“That you… took down an entire raider base alone.”

“But that’s bullshit!” the other brother yelled. “Nopony could do that without nearly getting killed!”

“But I ain’t a pony. Now tell me what the fuck is going on,” Thomas said, not even bothering to hide his anger.

“Why should we be scared of you?”

Thomas began to chuckle. “Oh, where do I begin?” he asked. “How about the fact that my head count is in the thousands? Or that an entire army couldn’t stop me from decapitating an empire?” He casually pointed his revolver at Pitcher, who raised her shotgun in response.

“Bullshit,” the mare responded calmly. “Why should you give a shit that we’re slavers, anyway?”

“I have a very good reason,” Thomas growled. There was a tense moment of silence. “Moonbeam, get that pony free.”

“Oh no, you are not getting in the way of our pay ticket!” Pitcher swung the shotgun around to face Moonbeam. “You even think of moving, and I’ll blow your fucking leg off!”

Moonbeam stared at the shotgun, paralysed with fear. She was shaken out of her shocked stillness when Thomas’ revolver roared, blowing the unicorn slaver’s brains out.

As the shotgun clattered on the floor, the two stallions charged. Runner tackled the man in the stomach, knocking him over, while Batter charged him with his bat. The moldy wood didn’t do much against his helmet, but the stallion didn’t care.

Moonbeam pulled out her SMG and pointed it at the brawl. She swore when she realised she couldn’t pull the trigger without maybe shooting Thomas by accident. She holstered her gun and looked around for another way to help.

“You sack of shit!” one of the stallions yelled. “We’ll fucking kill you!”

Thomas roared and sent Runner flying into the air with a powerful kick. “You’ll kill me!? I’d like to see you fucking try!” he shouted, grabbing Batter’s bat mid-swing. As the two fought over control of the weapon, Runner picked himself up and began pawing at the ground, smirking, preparing to take advantage of the opening.

The sudden gunshot got the attention of all three, especially Runner due to the fact that he was now missing a good chunk of his left foreleg. Thomas glanced at Moonbeam, the sawn-off that belonged to Pitcher floating in her magic, and smiled. Taking advantage of the other stallion’s distraction, he wrenched the baseball bat from Batter’s mouth, taking a few teeth with it.

Ignoring the screams of the downed stallion, Thomas got a good grip on the bat and snapped it in half. As he dropped the two pieces of wood, slowly advancing on the stallion, he called out to Moonbeam. “Get the mare free. She’s in the carriage. I’ll take care of him.”

“You fucker!” Batter roared, charging at Thomas. Thomas planted his legs wide and stuck his hands out, grunting when the stallion slammed into him. As the pair fought with each other for superiority, Moonbeam galloped over to the carriage.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she ripped the gag off of the bound mare.

“Oh thank the Goddesses! I thought you were with them!”

“Never,” Moonbeam replied as she went about undoing the rest of her bindings. “Now hold still, I need to untie you.”

Thomas and Batter continued to push against each other, each trying to push the other over. The stallion seemed to be winning, but to his frustration the man just kept smirking, as though he knew something that he didn’t. Suddenly, the man changed his stance, allowing the stallion to rush past him. Batter’s eyes went wide half a second before he slammed into the wall, nearly knocking himself out and almost knocking a hole through the wall.

Thomas grabbed the dazed stallion by the back of the neck and dragged him over to the fire barrel. “Tell me who you’re working for.”

“Fuck you,” the stallion spat.

Thomas just pulled the stallion up and held his face over the flames. “Who. Are. You. Working. For?” he asked, making sure each word was crystal clear.

“You don’t have the balls,” Batter taunted.

Without another word, Thomas calmly dunked the stallion head-first into the fire as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Chillingly, he managed to keep his expression clear as he held the stallion’s face inches from the burning wood, not even flinching when the screams reached volumes that would shatter glass. After fifteen seconds he pulled Batter’s head out. “Who are you working for?”

The brief exposure had been more than enough to burn away the stallion’s coat, taking most of his orange mane with it. The skin underneath was a very unpleasant red, and tears were flowing from his eyes like rivers. “Y-you - ” Thomas waited patiently as the pony nearly coughed up a lung. “You’re insane,” he wheezed out.

“Answer the question,” the Courier growled, not giving a shit about the slaver’s condition. If anything, he looked ready to punch him in the mouth.

“I - I ain’t telling you - hurk - shit,” he said defiantly.

Thomas just sneered at him before pushing him back into the flames. This time, he pushed his face right into the burning wood, ignoring both the screams and flames licking at his sleeve. Eventually, the screams stopped. Instead of giving him one last dignity, he pushed the unmoving body into the barrel, turning back to Moonbeam. “How is she?”

Both mares just stared him. “I’m sorry, what?” Moonbeam asked loudly. “You tortured that stallion to death, and you expect me to just ignore that!?”

“He was a slaver,” Thomas replied.

“I don’t care if he was a child-raping cannibal! You don’t do that kind of shit!” Moonbeam stomped to him. “Next time, you put a bullet in their brain, and that’s it! Okay!?”

Thomas glared at her. “I won’t make any promises.”

“Umm, mister?” the other mare said. “Were… were you a slave?” Moonbeam’s eyes went wide. She had never considered the possibility. Had he been using the slaver as a scapegoat to deal with his hate and rage?

“No,” Thomas replied softly.

“So why did you go completely insane just now?” Moonbeam asked.

“I have my reasons,” Thomas replied. “And that’s not important right - ”

“Bullshit it’s not important!” Moonbeam got onto her hind legs and planted her forehooves on his shoulders, letting her look him in the eye. “Are you gonna tell me?” she asked, her anger fading into worry.

“No, not… not yet, anyway.” Thomas pushed Moonbeam away. “Look, can we just get to Tenpony?”

“What about her?” Moonbeam asked, pointing at the mare they had just rescued. “We’re not gonna leave her here, right?”

“Of course not,” Thomas sighed. “So, what’s your name, miss?”

“H-Holly,” the mare replied anxiously. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Moonbeam said softly. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no, nothing I can’t walk off. Fuck, my brother’s probably scared outta his mind.” Holly turned and looked around.

“How’d you get caught?”

“Me and my brother, Berry, were scavving through a building a few blocks away. He managed to hide, but they found me.” Holly stood up uneasily. “I need to find him.”

“Well, feel free to take their stuff,” Thomas said, “not like we really need it.”

“Most of that shit’s mine, anyway,” the other unicorn muttered.

Thomas prodded Runner with a foot, the unconscious earth pony not responding. His mangled leg was still bleeding profusely, something he didn’t care about. One less slaver, the way he saw it. “Alright Moonbeam, I want to get close to the tower tonight. Will you be okay, miss?” he asked Holly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled dismissively. “Thanks for the help, but I’ll be fine. Just need to find Berry.”

“Well, be careful, ma’am,” Thomas replied.

“Don’t think you’ve gotten out of telling me why you did that,” Moonbeam muttered as the man forced open a utility door.

He sighed. “Look, Moonbeam, I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Just… drop it. Please?”

The unicorn stared at him for a few seconds. “Fine. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about this.”

Author's Note

Thomas doesn't dunk. He roasts.
I'm really enjoying the fact that this fic gives me more opening to show just how fucking dangerous Thomas is in an actual fight.
And it took me a little while to figure this out. I reckon these work without being overpowered.
Moonbeam traits:
Cityslicker: You were born and raised in a forest of concrete and steel. +1 to Perception and Agility when in heavily developed areas.
Chem Resistant: The good news? You can't get addicted! The bad news? Chems do nothing for you at all. +99% addiction resistance, -99% chem effectiveness. Does not include Rad-Away, Rad-X and healing potions.
Oh, and thanks to ed2481 for letting me bounce ideas off of him.

No Pay, No Gain

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

No Pay, No Gain

The pair walked silently along the monorail, neither eager to start up a discussion. Thomas was still brooding over the slavers and his past, and Moonbeam was a little scared about what she might discover if she pressed him for information. While he had always been serious, he seemed to have fun making little jokes every now and then, and would at least wear a smile. Now, he just looked ahead, his features dark and gloomy.

They had progressed through three stations, each one somehow sealed off by rubble, leaving vending machines untouched. Moonbeam quickly looted each one, only speaking up to inform her silent companion of what she had found. The Courier’s only response was to grunt and nod every time.

“Courier?” Moonbeam eventually asked, looking at the horizon.

“What?”

“We should stop for the night,” she said carefully. “How does the next station sound?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied listlessly.

Now she was really worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Moonbeam gulped. This was serious. “Courier, please. Are you okay?”

Thomas sighed. “Look, these memories… they’re painful. All I can do is push through them.”

“What if we talk?” the mare suggested. “Keep your mind off of things?”

There was a moment before he answered. “I guess. What do you want to know?”

“Anything, really,” she said, just happy that the human’s thoughts were elsewhere. She still needed a few seconds to think of what to ask. “What’s your actual name?”

“Thomas. ‘The Courier’ is just a title,” he explained. “I’m also known as ‘Courier Six’.”

“How’d you get a title like that?” the mare asked. “Doesn’t exactly sound very… awesome.”

“‘Scavenger’ isn’t exactly very awesome either, but you help keep an entire settlement fed,” the man countered. “In the Mojave, and further out, we keep settlements supplied, deliver guns and medicine, and we do it fast. Met a caravan trader, told me the most important rule she’d ever learnt.”

“What, keep your gun loaded?” Moonbeam asked flatly.

“You don’t learn that, you just do it,” Thomas replied. “She said ‘Do not fuck with the man who delivers your mail’. And you don’t.”

“Why not?”

“A courier wants settlements, because that means work. A settlement needs couriers, because they mean life. You kill a courier, you may as well shoot yourself in the head,” he explained. “And we’re not exactly easy to kill, either,” he said confidently.

“You don’t look that tough under all that padding,” Moonbeam replied skeptically.

“The last job I took, I was ambushed by some Great Khans, the toughest gang in the Mojave. I’ve seen one of those guys take a .308 round to the shoulder and shrug it off.” Thomas looked around, like he had been every ten minutes for the last few hours. “When I woke up, I was bound and gagged. That dick Benny shot me twice in the head and had me buried alive. Look,” he said, taking off his helmet and parting his hair.

Moonbeam looked at the scars and gaped. “Y-you said something before about being shot twice in the head, but I didn’t think you were serious.”

Thomas chuckled. “Neither were the Khans when I caught up with them. Still, that’s old news. Had a lot more happen since that.”

“Like what?”

“Well - wait, when did we get so close?” Thomas asked suddenly, pointing ahead.

Moonbeam followed his finger and saw what he was pointing at. “Huh. How long were we talking for?” she asked, looking at the approaching monorail station with confusion.

“Can’t have been that long,” the man mused.

“We should be ready to clear this place out,” the mare muttered.

“What do you mean? Looks pretty safe to me.”

“The stairs aren’t blocked off, which means someone might be living in there. No guarantee that they’ll be friendly, either.”

“Good point,” Thomas muttered, getting a good grip on his SMG.

They kept silent as they reached the building. The maintenance door was locked up, leaving to Thomas the task of picking it. When the door opened, they were greeted by darkness.

“Guess there was nothing to worry about,” Thomas mumbled, turning up his Pip-Boy’s screen’s brightness all the way. The light revealed nothing but old benches, skeletons, the occasional briefcase and rubbish.

“That’s a relief,” Moonbeam sighed as she holstered her gun. “Had enough fighting in the last few days.”

Thomas ignored her, his head spinning around nervously. “Do you hear that?” he asked quietly.

“Hear what?” the mare asked. She strained her ears, but couldn’t hear anything. “Are you okay?”

“It’s coming from over there,” he whispered.

“What is?” Moonbeam asked, an edge of fear entering into her voice. What had him so nervous?

The man crept over to the source of his discomfort, eyeing it with fear the whole time. Moonbeam lit up her horn and saw what was making him panic like that.

“A radio. You got me worked up over a fucking radio?” she asked loudly.

“I’ve got a very good reason,” Thomas muttered, looking at the static-spewing machine with undisguised fear. “Where’s the off switch on that fucking thing?”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes and turned it off, silencing the radio. “Really?” she asked.

Thomas glared at her, his gaze burning into her with the force of a nuclear furnace. “When you get pushed into a place where breathing will slowly kill you, the inhabitants are nigh-fucking-unkillable, and some fuck stuck a bomb collar around your neck that has a habit of priming the explosives when you get too close to one of the radios, then you can tell me that I’m getting scared about nothing. Okay?” he said viciously.

Moonbeam stared, shocked by the sudden and savage outburst. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Thomas sighed and looked at the floor. “Me too, just… bad memories about that place. Lots of bad memories.”

“Those… seem to be the only kind you have,” Moonbeam said, smiling a little.

Thomas snorted. “I guess it does, but I have plenty of good ones to balance things out. Like walking out of the Ultra-Luxe with fifteen thousand caps. Or saving Bitter Springs.”

Moonbeam gaped. “F-fifteen thousand!?” she yelled.

“Blew a good chunk of that on this gun,” he said, grabbing his Medicine Stick. “Then I may have drank the rest away. Can’t remember much of that night,” he admitted. “I woke up sandwiched between two prostitutes, though, so it must have been good.”

“You spent fifteen thousand caps on drinks and prostitutes?” Moonbeam asked in disbelief.

“That only happened once, and it was closer to six thousand,” Thomas replied. “Every other time I won big I kept hold of the caps, spent it on food, water and ammo.”

The pair fell into silence again, starting a small fire and going about securing the station for the night. As Thomas put it, “I don’t want to wake up some fucker slicing me open.” Moonbeam shared the sentiment.

When they were done, Thomas took the time to look at the old map of the monorail line. It was impossible to make out what the name of the station had once been, but he could tell that they were about two stops away from Tenpony Tower. “Two stops, that’s about… what, three hours?”

“Three and a half. Kinda scary, isn’t it? Look at this timetable. One hour from one end of the line to the other. Wish we had that type of travel time,” Moonbeam muttered angrily, poking at a faded timetable.

“Yeah, takes two hours on foot to get to the gate into the Vegas Strip, or a three-minute monorail ride from Camp McCarran right into the middle,” Thomas added.

The pair lapsed into silence again, not really sure what else to say. “Um…” Moonbeam said, for the sake of saying something.

“Do you reckon you could keep calling me Courier?” Thomas asked.

“What?”

“Not when it’s just us,” he hastily clarified. “But, when we’re in a settlement, or in a fight - ”

“Oh, yeah. Sure, I guess. Why?” she asked.

“Names have power, but titles have more. Any idiot can have the same name as you, but a title, like the Chosen One, or Vault Dweller, or Courier Six, those’re unique. Besides,” he added, “‘Courier’ sounds a bit like a pony name, might catch folks off-guard.”

Moonbeam frowned a little. What he was saying made sense, and he was right about Courier being a perfectly reasonable name for a colt. “Well, I’ll try. I might let it slip but - ”

“That’s all I ask,” he interrupted.

“That minotaur excuse cut it pretty thin last time.”

“Huh?”

The pair had resumed walking along the monorail when the sun rose. At least, they thought the sun rose. To Thomas, the idea of waking up every day to a cloudy sky was an unpleasant one. Still, it was bright enough to see by, and the bloodwings had gone to sleep, so that was good enough for them.

“Before, with those slavers,” Moonbeam said carefully. The last thing she wanted was to set him down into that depressed silence again.

“Oh yeah, I meant to ask about that,” Thomas replied. “Just what is a minotaur?”

Moonbeam opened her mouth to explain, but stopped. “I… really wish you’d asked this at the library,” she said. “I could show you a picture.”

“What’s the problem?”

“How do you describe something to someone, when they have nothing to use as a base for that description? How do you tell someone what a brahmin is when they’ve never seen anything like that, ever?” she asked. “You don’t have a point of reference.”

“Well,” Thomas answered slowly, “one of those slaver bastards said something about horns. Why don’t we start from there?”

“Okay. Uhh… Well, minotaurs have a head with a pair of horns on the side, facing forwards or up. Oh, their head looks like one from a brahmin,” Moonbeam added. “Not as ugly, though.” Thomas raised an eyebrow. “N-not like that! Brahmin are covered in tumours and stuff. Minotaurs aren’t.”

Thomas chuckled. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. So horns,” he mused. “I guess I could find a brahmin skull, snaps the horns off of that.”

“You could use Wonderglue and stick them to your helmet,” Moonbeam added.

“I… wasn’t being serious,” Thomas said warily.

“Well it’s the only thing I can think off,” Moonbeam countered. “And it’s not like you’ll be able to do much else before we get to Tenpony either.”

Thomas wanted to argue, but he knew when he was beat. “Fine,” he conceded. “But we’ll need to find a brahmin skull, and I don’t have any Wonderglue.” He didn’t even bother telling her that they had the same things back home.

“Actually…” Moonbeam levitated something from inside her armour. “I found this in one of the bins at that station. So we just need the skull!”

“... Great.”

“Come on!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“Just once, I swear!”

Thomas glared at Moonbeam before sighing. “Fine. Moo. You happy now?”

If the way the mare was clutching at her sides, laughing until she couldn’t breathe was any indication, she was indeed very happy. “I-I’m sorry, that was just…” She looked up at him, and her laughing began anew.

“Nice to know one of us is having fun,” Thomas muttered. He took off his helmet and looked at the crudely-placed horns. He was willing to bet that an actual minotaur would have had much bigger horns, not the dinky little things he’d snapped off a rotting brahmin corpse. “And how is this meant to fool anyone?”

Moonbeam took a moment to compose herself. “W-well, we could say that your horns fell off as a calf, or never grew properly.”

“And these are some sort of coping mechanism?” Thomas asked, nearly pushing the helmet right into her face.

“I guess? I don’t really know much about minotaurs,” Moonbeam admitted. “You might want to put your mask on, too.”

“I guess I don’t look much like a minotaur…” Thomas reached into his duster and pulled out the face-concealing mask. “Let’s go,” he said, strapping his helmet back on.

As the pair rounded the corner, they caught their first sight of Tenpony Tower. “Wow,” Moonbeam said.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Compared to every building around it, Tenpony Tower was in marvellous shape. Discounting the side that had been patched up with scrap metal, it looked unharmed. On the top was a giant radio antenna, the source of DJ PON3’s broadcasts.

“Wait, how do we even get in?” Moonbeam asked.

“I’d bet the monorail station,” Thomas answered calmly, making sure his helmet and mask were on securely. “It’ll be heavily fortified, and well-guarded.”

“How do you know that?”

The man looked down at the mare. “Logic. Slavers and raiders seem to be a big enough problem out here. Any settlement that can’t hold off those bastards for long doesn’t last.”

“Do you have to keep being so smart?” Moonbeam asked. “This isn’t even your planet!”

“Some things are universal,” Thomas replied, laughing at the mare’s anger. “Now come on, or we’re gonna get - ”

“Get’em!”

“The universe is a bitch,” Thomas muttered angrily, whipping out his revolver and spinning around at a freakishly quick speed. Three unicorn raiders, two armed with pistols, the third wearing what looked like a battle-saddle, were charging at them. Thomas had barely raised his pistol before something slammed into his gut, knocking him back.

Moonbeam’s 10mm barked ten times, putting down one of the raiders. “You fucking bitch!” one of the survivors screamed, ramming into her and knocking her over. “I’m gonna have fun with - ”

The sudden and violent introduction of Thomas’s steel-capped boot to the side of the pony’s head was more than enough to silence him. “You okay?” he asked quietly, leaning over her.

“Yeah, tha - ” The last raider’s battle-saddle fired again, only this time the round caught Thomas in the head.

“No!” Moonbeam yelled as the man stumbled. She didn’t have much to worry about, though, because Thomas let out a grunt, stayed upright and squeezed off a round. The raider was just as shocked, though that state didn’t last long.

“Now I have a headache,” he muttered, holstering his gun.

“But you - I saw - but - how!?” Moonbeam screeched.

“That thing’s low calibre,” Thomas said, sticking a hand under helmet to rub at the forming bruise. “That, and I’m pretty sure it was a hollow-point.”

“Wow.” Moonbeam sighed. “Guess I got worried about nothing.”

“Never think that,” Thomas said quickly, poking the raider he had kicked, making sure he was dead. “He might have gotten lucky, hit me somewhere I’m unarmoured. The shot might have knocked me out, even if it didn’t penetrate. I’m not invincible,” he added, “I just seem like it sometimes.”

“Yeah, you really do.” Moonbeam reloaded her SMG and holstered it. “Well, we’re nearly here, let’s keep moving.”

Thankfully, there were no more raiders attempting to kill them as they made their way to the entrance to Tenpony Tower’s monorail station. “What is this, the Ultra-Luxe?” Thomas asked loudly as he looked at the ridiculously ornate gates.

“Good work taking out those raiders before,” someone called out. It took the pair a few seconds to realise they were being spoken to through an intercom.

“Hello,” Thomas said politely, walking over to the intercom. “We’d like to come inside.” He had to lean down to properly reach it, the whole thing obviously designed with ponies in mind.

The voice on the other side sighed. “I want to, but orders are we can’t let anyone in until - ”

“Come on!” Moonbeam shouted. “We walked two whole days for a ‘no’!?”

“If you’d let me finish, ma’am,” the voice said angrily. “We can’t let anyone in at the moment. The local raiders have gotten a bit too overconfident. Opening the gates is a security risk we can’t take.”

“How much?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah, not happening. I don’t care how much you offer me, I am not opening the gates,” the voice replied, sounding angrier.

“You misunderstand,” Thomas said civilly. “How much will I get paid if I take care of the raiders for you?”

“I… wait, you want to do it?”

“How much?”

“I - Give me a moment.” There was a few moments of silence, which Moonbeam decided to fill.

“Really?” she asked. “You’re gonna go chasing raiders?”

“If it gets us in,” was all Thomas said in response.

The intercom crackled into life again. “So,” a different voice said, “you want to help us with our raider problem? I’m Chief Grim Star, Tenpony’s security chief.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Thomas said politely.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Their main base is in what’s left of Manehattan’s train yard, about an hour east of here. That’ll put you close to the blast zone, so if you need Radaways and Rad-X, let us know. We’ll take the cost outta your reward.”

“How much is the reward?” Thomas asked.

“Two thousand, double if you can bring back proof you got their leader.”

Thomas turned back to Moonbeam, who had been pacing in front of the gates. “Well, Moonbeam, what do you think?”

The mare frowned before stepping up to the intercom herself. “What can we expect? How many are there, how well-armed are they?”

“We’re not sure, but definitely more than a hundred,” Grim Star answered. “They attacked an arms caravan a few weeks back, so they’ll have some heavy firepower too.”

“Three thousand,” Thomas said suddenly. “This is starting to sound more and more like something you’d send half a dozen soldiers to do, not a pair of mercs. I expect my payment to match the job and expectations.”

“Nnnng… Fine. Three thousand,” the voice conceded, “but you’d better get their boss.”

“And you’ll let us in?” Moonbeam asked.

“I’ll see if you can get one of the luxury suites, this is a huge favour you’re doing us.”

Thomas nodded. “Mr. Grim Star, you got yourself a deal.”

Author's Note

Like it would be that easy.

More Than a Horn

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

More Than a Horn

Thomas reached under his helmet and scratched his head. “Well…”

“Shit,” Moonbeam agreed.

Grim Star had said that the raiders had set up in a train yard. To Thomas, that meant dirty old diesel engines, freight cars and rails criss-crossing the ground. The train he could see, though, was an old steam train, a giant boiler on wheels. He’d never seen anything like that before.

The pair had expected the area to be relatively clear, a few train cars here and there that could be used as cover. They had expected the raiders to be rather disorganised, walking in small groups that could be picked off without any trouble. Unfortunately, the reality did not match the expectations.

Train cars to have been pushed around to form walls, small guard towers had been made from scrap so the inhabitants could see outside, and patrols were walking on top of the walls. In the distance, at the back of the compound, the pair could make out the shape of a building, easily three stories high.

“They want us to clear this out?” Moonbeam asked, keeping her voice down. Even though they were pretty much out of view, she wanted to be careful.

“This won’t be easy,” Thomas said.

The mare shot a glare at him. “Really? You’re just gonna point out the obvious?”

The man kept silent. As he watched, a deep, long toooooooooot! suddenly pierced the air. Thomas and Moonbeam quickly ducked out of sight, thinking they had been caught. A few seconds later, after a lack of stamping hooves and screams of ponies out for their blood, they poked their heads out warily.

Two small groups of raiders were walking towards each other on of the overturned cars, nodding and talking. One of them took something off from around their neck and passed it to a member of the second, then disappeared down a ramp out of sight. “They’re changing the patrol…” Moonbeam muttered, wide-eyed in shock.

“This isn’t right,” Thomas muttered. “Raiders aren’t this organised, this… civil with each other. Someone’s controlling them. Someone smart. Someone strong.”

“You’re right,” Moonbeam whispered. “We can’t do this. Not just us.”

“I’ve fought worse,” he commented calmly. “And I bet the only thing keeping this group from tearing itself apart is their leader. Cut off the head, the body dies.” Thomas carefully pulled his Medicine Stick from its sling and readied it. “So…”

“So we sneak into their base, find their leader and kill him or her, who is definitely strong, smart and most likely scary enough to keep a hundred raiders in check?” Moonbeam asked flatly. “Any other plan besides ‘get killed horribly’, Thomas?”

“Gimme a minute,” he said, looking around. “I’ll think of something.”

“This is your plan!?” Moonbeam hissed angrily.

“Shut up,” Thomas hissed back, leaning against the car. He turned and began creeping towards the nearest opening, which was at least five ponies wide, Moonbeam just behind him. On either side was a small guard tower, a unicorn armed with a rifle in each. Despite how well set-out the defenses were, they had made the mistake of having ledges that extended out that left blind spots directly underneath the towers, leaving them practically invisible.

“Now what?”

“I’m gonna need to borrow your gun,” Thomas whispered back. “It’s not as loud as mine, won’t get as much attention.” Moonbeam silently passed the gun over while Thomas reached into his duster. He hastily wrapped a cloth around the receiver and as much of the barrel as he could before tying a crude knot, hoping that this would work.

“What are you doing?” Moonbeam hissed curiously.

“Something that might not work,” he replied casually. “Can you give me a boost?”

The sensation of being levitated was not a particularly pleasant one. While before Moonbeam had simply grabbed his foot or torso and pulled it up, this was more like swimming. He did his best, though, and managed to grab onto the underside of the ledge, grabbing the gun in his teeth.

“You hear that?” a pony asked, the voice almost directly above him.

“Hear what?” his compatriot asked, the tone of her voice making it clear that she was annoyed. “Leave me alone, I’m trying to sleep.”

“You know the boss is gonna yell at you, right?”

“But he doesn’t shoot us anymore. Now shut up and don’t wake me up until something actually happens.”

As the pair talked above him, Thomas was carefully making his way into position. There was enough space between the tower he was hanging on to and the train car next to it that he could use the gap as a way to climb up. He did as carefully as he could, making a little noise that was masked by the squeaking of the rusted metal caused by the pony’s steps.

He pulled himself up, grunting as he did so, and found himself staring right at a rather unwelcome sight. Fortunately, the stallion was facing away from him, looking over the side for the noise from before. Thomas carefully brought up Moonbeam’s SMG, very nearly touching the stallion with the barrel. He let out a five-round burst, the rag he had wrapped around the gun managing to at least muffle the sound.

As the stallion fell, Thomas hastily pulled himself up and caught him, managing to stop him from making too loud a noise when he landed. Unfortunately, in his rush he missed the rifle, and his shin-guards slammed into the metal, each making a loud clang, making him wince.

“Huh? Whuh?” The mare in the other tower was jerked from her half-sleep by the sounds. She uneasily got to her hooves and looked over to the other tower. All she saw was something with red eyes pointing a gun at her. In the moment it took for her to say “Oh shi - ” the gun had fired.

“Coast is clear,” he called out, passing the gun back to Moonbeam as she stepped quietly into the compound, looking around nervously.

“This feels really unsafe,” she muttered, untying the rag and sticking it into her armour.

“What did you expect?” Thomas asked, taking his rifle from its sling. “Now come on, we should get out of sight.”

Those words had barely left his mouth when a whistling sounded, catching the pair off-guard. The cry of “Intruders!” that followed only cemented the idea that things were only going to get worse.

Thomas saw who was responsible, a trio of ponies dressed as raiders on top of one of the cars. With eerie speed and precision, the Medicine Stick was fired three times, each shot finding its mark. “We gotta move.”

“Ya think!?” Moonbeam asked sarcastically.

“They’re over there!” came another cry.

“Come on!” Thomas yelled, sprinting away from the thundering of the oncoming stampede. Moonbeam followed beside him easily.

“We gonna keep running?” she asked, pointing the SMG behind her and blind-firing.

“For now, yes!”

“Why did I agree to this!?”

“Hell if I know!” Thomas yelled back, doing his best to ignore the bullets whizzing past him.

“You fuckwits, don’t let them get away!”

“Circle around, cut them off!”

Moonbeam let out a low whining noise, which Thomas ignored. As carefully as he could while sprinting for his life, he shoved his rifle back into its sling and yanked out his SMG. “Just hold on. We’ll lose them.”

“You’re crazy!”

“You’re dead!” The screaming was getting uncomfortably close, but Thomas ignored it, instead reaching inside his duster again. Digging through it a few days ago had revealed a number of things he didn’t remember packing. He guessed that they’d gotten lost or had been forgotten at one point or another. It suited him fine, almost everything he did find had a use. “Moonbeam, whatever you do, don’t turn around.”

The mare glanced at him just in time to see him throw something over his shoulder. Taking heed of his words, she kept her focus ahead, fighting her curiosity. When a flash like the world being set on fire came from behind her, along with the pained screams of almost every single raider, she was glad she had listened.

“Where the fuck did they go!?”

“No idea, sir.”

“That’s not good enough! Tear this place apart if you have to, just find them! You fuckers better not interrupt me unless you’re bringing me their heads! You clear?”

Thomas and Moonbeam looked at each other. In the dark it was impossible to make out features, but they didn’t need to. The sensation of mutual relief was something they could almost physically touch.

“That… was too close,” Moonbeam whispered, waiting until she was sure they wouldn’t be heard.

“Yeah,” Thomas replied distractedly. During their mad dash to safety, which had eventually led them to an old shipping container near the center of the train yard, he had been looking around to get an idea of the place. What he saw only confirmed his suspicions: the place was too well-organised to be a basic raider compound. He had seen weapons stockpiles, an old train carriage converted to be some sort of sleeping quarters, and even what looked like grindstones. This wasn’t a raider compound. It was a military base.

“Okay, we’re still gonna stick to the plan,” he said. “For the most part. We need to cripple them, I bet Grim Star won’t be happy with us if we let a pack of well-armed raiders get away.”

Moonbeam nodded uneasily. “Do you have any more explosives?”

“Wish I did, but I’m gonna have to improvise.” Thomas sat there in silence for a few moments, thinking about what he could do. “The weapons stockpiles. There’s bound to be some explosives in there. We could use those, set them off near the ammunition.”

“Yeah, and kill ourselves in the process,” the mare said. “Unless you know how to rig a timer or something.”

“I was able to fix your gun with parts from three different guns, two of which are completely different calibres,” he boasted. “A time bomb shouldn’t be that hard. Just need to find a timer first.”

“We could destroy their food,” Moonbeam suggested.

“No, it’d be easy enough for them to resupply. Ideally, though, we wanna hit both. With no food and nothing to fight with, they’ll turn on each other.”

“And if we take out their boss, there won’t be anyone to stop it,” Moonbeam added, starting to smile.

“Exactly,” Thomas replied. “Our first target should be their ammo. It’ll make it easier for us in the long run, and the panic will give us a lot of cover to move with.”

“Might even get some ammo for this,” the unicorn added, gesturing at her still-unused battle-saddle.

“Okay then. We’ll wait until night.”

“What? Why?”

“Give them a few hours, and they’ll think we got away. They’ll probably send a few parties out to find us. That, and it’s a lot easier to sneak around when most of them are asleep.”

“Do you really think we can stay hidden for that long?”

“That’s why Plan B is to murder anyone who gets too close and hope they don’t come looking.”

Moonbeam stared for a moment. “That is the worst back-up plan I have ever heard.”

“I never said it was genius, either, but it’s all I’ve got.” Thomas stretched his legs out in front of him and sighed, looking at his Pip-Boy. “I’ll set the alarm for… eight hours sound right?”

“What are we gonna do for eight hours?” Thomas shrugged. “Great. Eight hours in a fucking container inside a fucking raider base.”

“I’ll tell you a few things I’ve been through, that’ll help pass the time.”

“That… sounds a lot like Canterlot.”

Thomas blinked. And then he blinked again. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, really. I don’t know why I didn’t realise it before. Canterlot is, well, was the capital, it got hit by some super-deadly megaspell. The Pink Cloud created Canterlot Ghouls. They… sound a lot like those ‘Ghost People’.”

Thomas blinked again.”Of course, something happened to the radios there, too.”

“Apparently, the speakers got corrupted by whatever fucked up magic is responsible for the Cloud, because it makes any non-Canterlot Ghoul’s brain leak out of their nose or something.” Moonbeam shrugged. “I don’t believe that, though. I don’t think the zebras were that fucking insane.”

Thomas just sat there, stunned. “Okay. Don’t go near Canterlot. Ever. Thanks for that. I just got over those nightmares about the Madre.”

“You brought it up, not my fault we have something similar,” Moonbeam shrugged.

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“A few ponies get really brave every so often, make a trek in. Most don’t make it out.”

“I can imagine…” Thomas muttered darkly. “Most who went into the Madre fell victim to their own greed, turning on their own friends at the idea of becoming rich enough to buy half the NCR.”

“You mentioned them before, this ‘NCR’. What are they?”

“Good people, good intentions, enough bureaucratic bullshit to make you want to eat a grenade. No idea if the government was like that before the war. Wouldn’t surprise me.” Thomas looked at his Pip-Boy. “Okay, seven and a half hours. That’s enough waiting.” He turned to Moonbeam. “Ready?”

“Not yet,” she said, getting up and stretching.

As she did that, Thomas carefully opened the door to the shipping container, ignoring the squeaking the hinges made. “Finally!” He hadn’t expected a pony dressed as a raider to be standing there waiting for him, though. “Were you trying to bore me to death!?” the mare asked loudly, brandishing a pistol with her magic. “All you did was talk, talk, talk!”

Thomas stared for a moment before grabbing her by the throat and pulling her into the container. He slammed the mare into the floor, causing her head to clang loudly against the metal. As she lay there, dazed, he leaned in, putting his nose barely an inch from hers’. “If you had paid any attention to a single word I’d said, then you would’ve pulled the trigger the moment the door opened,” he growled. Before she could respond, he drew back his right fist and slammed it into her throat.

Moonbeam gaped when his fist seemed to erupt, distorting the air around it. What was more alarming was what happened to the mare, her neck vanishing along with most of her head and barrel in a shower of gore. “Holy shit!”

“We need to move,” Thomas said calmly, ignoring the blood dripping from his helmet. “She was probably meant to tell someone or get reinforcements.”

“How did you do that? Some kind of power hoof?”

“Displacer glove,” he replied, pointing to the contraption on his right arm. “It… displaces things. Violently. And I stopped using power fists ages ago. Not enough kick.”

That statement caused her to worry. Although she hadn’t seen what a power hoof could do with her own eyes, the books in the Library had been detailed enough for her to get a very good idea. Shattered bones, internal bleeding, and severe trauma were all expected results. What she had just seen surpassed that in every imaginable way.

“You coming or not?” Thomas asked, poking his head out. “It’s dark, you’re gonna want to stay close.”

The pair crept off into the night, the only light sources fires lit in barrels scattered around the area. Thomas did his best to not look directly at them, knowing they would mess with his vision. Moonbeam didn’t know about that, though, and their progress was delayed several times when she nearly walked into things.

“You notice anything odd?” Thomas hissed, watching as a patrol in the distance disappeared from sight.

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Just… feels like there’s a lot more unicorns around here than earth ponies.” Thomas motioned with his hand before leading the way to the next bit of cover.

“And?” Moonbeam asked back. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It just doesn’t seem right…”

“You’re being paranoid. So there’s more unicorns than other ponies, big deal.” The pair stopped again.

“I bet there will be some ammo in there,” Thomas hissed, pointing at a shack made of scrap metal. It was quite large, easily twenty feet on each side. Instead of a door was an archway, a pair of guards standing at attention. He looked warily at the unicorns. “We need to find another way in.”

“Are you sure there’s more than one stockpile?” Moonbeam asked. “There’s gotta be a lot in there, right?”

“Trust me, that’s not even half. Not even a quarter.” Under his mask, Thomas smiled. “But it’s a start.”

“How are we even gonna get in?”

Thomas thought about what answer to give to Moonbeam, a few different scenarios playing through his mind. Ideally, he’d shoot both the guards. However, he didn’t have any silent weapons. Alternatively, he could sneak up and kill them with his bare hands, but to do that he would want to take them from behind. A full-frontal assault was just asking for the rest of the base to murder him, so that would have to be a last resort.

As he stood there, thinking about his course of action, another group approached the pair on guard duty. He watched curiously as they talked before walking away, the guards following. “What the…?”

“That’s convenient,” Moonbeam commented.

“Too convenient,” Thomas growled. “It’s a trap, I guarantee it. There’ll be tripwires or mines or pressure plates or something.” He looked around. “There’ll be another way in.”

“Shouldn’t we at least try going through there?” Moonbeam asked, pointing a hoof towards the gap.

“Even if it’s not trapped, it’s out in the open. Any idiot will see us.” The man silently weighed his options. “But the longer we take, the better their chances of catching us… Fine. We go in through the front.”

Moonbeam kept an eye out for any movement as Thomas made a dash to the building. When nopony came out yelling their desire to string him up appeared, she followed, doing her best to make as little noise as possible. Unfortunately, hooves are not ideal for stealth, a matter that was not helped when she tripped up on a rail. Catching herself before she hit the ground, she stumbled into the ammo shack. “Smooth,” Thomas commented.

“Fuck off. Shouldn’t we… be… Woah.” Her anger disappeared as she looked around. Shelves upon shelves filled the space, each one with an old, military-green ammo box adorning it. Where there weren’t ammo boxes there were instead weapons, mainly pistols and bolt-action rifles. Strangely enough, Thomas was sure he could see a familiar, grey boxy shape among the wood finishings.

“Check all the boxes,” Thomas ordered. “Grab any ammo you might need, and tell me when you find some explosives.”

Moonbeam pulled down a box and opened it, eyes going wide when she saw the contents. Reaching inside her barding, she pulled out her saddle-bag straps and began to loosen them.

It took Thomas fifteen boxes to find what he was looking for, but he was very glad and worried when he did. “Where the hell did they get this?”

“What is it?” Moonbeam asked casually, grunting as he adjusted something.

The man pulled out a gun-shaped device and a handful of what looked like balls of clay. “Enough remote explosives to level this whole compound,” he stated, waving the detonator around. “At least now we can - What the fuck, Moonbeam?” he asked, cutting himself off as he caught sight of what the mare had been up to.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“Really?”

“Hey, you said to grab whatever ammo I needed,” she said.

“I didn’t mean that you should grab a pair of ammo boxes and strap them to your ass,” he said flatly.

Moonbeam ignored his unamused stare. “Hey, I don’t want you blowing up four hundred rounds of three-oh-eight I could be using instead,” she stated, glancing back at the ammo boxes that had replaced her saddle-bags. “Saves us buying them later, right?”

Thomas blinked. “Okay, I’ll give you that. You sure you can carry that?”

Moonbeam just stared at him. “Really? You’re asking me if I can carry… what, twenty pounds of ammo?”

“That’s a lot of bullets and you know it,” the man argued. “Still, if you think you can manage, I won’t say anything.

“Yes I can manage,” the mare replied, giving the man a condescending look. “Weren’t you going to rig this place to explode?”

Wordlessly Thomas tossed a handful of the explosive towards her. “Put that somewhere it’ll cause the most damage. If we can collapse the building, that’ll delay them even further.”

Moonbeam looked around for a moment. She grabbed a few more boxes of ammo and emptied their contents over the explosives. “Now if anyone gets too close - ”

“It’ll tear’em apart. Good thinking.” Thomas finished placing some at the base of one of the supports, making sure it couldn’t be seen too easily. “Let’s move. We have a few more stockpiles to hit.”

“What did I tell you?” The pair turned around slowly, seeing a pair of unicorns pointing rifles at them. “All we had to do was walk away for five minutes.”

“If you surrender, we’ll make your deaths quick,” the other raider said.

“Why should we believe you?” Thomas asked.

“Why shouldn’t you? You’re at our mercy.”

“Shame we don’t have any,” the other raider laughed.

“Funny thing about that,” Thomas said calmly. “Neither do I.” Before any of the ponies could react, he pounced at them, tackling one into the dirt. He gripped the pony’s head and began to slam it into the ground repeatedly, not letting something as mundane as pained screams stop him.

As Thomas grappled with a unicorn, the other opened fire, taking advantage of the fact that the human was on top of his opponent. However he only managed to get a few shots off before a set of much louder gunshots ripped through the night.

The man turned, prepared to retaliate to being shot in the back. Instead, he found his target slumped over on the ground, large holes having appeared in the stallion. He turned to Moonbeam, her battle-saddle’s barrels smoking slightly. “Wow this thing is powerful,” she commented. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I should be,” Thomas said, wincing as he stood up. “I think a few shots got through. Don’t worry about it,” he ordered, waving the mare away. “We need to get away. There is no way in hell they didn’t hear what just happened.”

“Right,” Moonbeam answered, looking around. “I have an idea.”

Thomas watched as the mare dragged the two corpses into the shack, positioning one so that it hid the ammo-covered explosives. “Thinking like a raider, huh?” he asked distastefully.

“Just be ready to pull the trigger on that thing,” she said, glancing at the detonator.

“First, let’s get some distance. I don’t want to be too close to this thing when it goes up.”

The pair quickly retreated, returning to the train car they had used as cover before. “You might wanna cover your ears,” the man suggested.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Moonbeam asked.

“Trust me, I’ve had worse. Thanks, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“For the save. I would’ve been able to finish them both off myself, but I wouldn’t be in any condition to fight afterwards,” he explained. “Here they come,” he whispered.

“That’s a lot,” Moonbeam muttered, watching as close to twenty raiders made their way to the scene of their fight, the light of their horns letting her count them. They began to talk loudly when they came across the bodies, half of them heading inside the shack while the rest milled around outside, trying to find any evidence of where the attackers had gone.

“You like fireworks?” Thomas asked as he gripped the detonator. Without waiting for a response, he pulled the trigger, cheering as the shack went up with enough force to send those outside it flying.

Those that were inside were simply vaporised in the blast, giving them a mercifully quick death. The ones outside weren’t as lucky, though. The blast set off whatever ammo wasn’t destroyed, sending enough shrapnel and bullets flying to cut through the unarmoured ponies like paper.

“One down… a few more to go,” Thomas said calmly.

“There goes the element of surprise…” Moonbeam muttered.

“We’ll manage. Get ready to shoot anything that moves.”

Author's Note

Did anyone really think I'd make this a cake-walk for the pair?

All Aboard

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

All Aboard

Thomas sighed as he felt the pain fade. He tossed the empty Med-X syringe over his shoulder and picked up his rifle. “You gonna be okay, Moonbeam?”

The mare simply yawned in response. The pair had spent the night getting into the half-dozen ammunition stockpiles, stealing ammo and planting explosives. Every time they would have to fight their way past a dozen or more raiders. They had not escaped unscathed, each of them taking multiple bullet wounds. Through luck or providence, none of their injuries were severe, but they were inconveniences that made their task harder.

“Yeah,” the man agreed. “They better give us a fucking penthouse suite with free room service for all this.”

“We rigged all their ammo,” the mare said, deciding to focus on the task at hoof, “so now what?”

“Gonna want to hit their food supply too. Impossible to fight on an empty stomach,” Thomas said wisely.

“We’ll be here even longer,” Moonbeam pointed out. “And I don’t think they’ll believe us if we say we crippled them to the point where they can’t recover. We’re only getting paid for bringing proof that we killed the pony in charge.”

Thomas nodded. “Right. So where do you think we can find their leader?”

“You remember that building we saw before?” Moonbeam asked. “The one that wasn’t made of scrap?”

“Yeah, makes sense. Lets them see everything. Wouldn’t be surprised if they saw us running around before.”

“Which means he knows we’re coming…” Moonbeam muttered. “Well fuck.”

“We abandoned anything resembling stealth hours ago,” the man pointed out. “If anything, they’ll be scared. They know we’re coming.”

“I found’em!” Thomas and Moonbeam whipped around to see a lone raider staring at them.

“Saves us the trouble!” Thomas shouted back, reaching for his pistol. Before it could leave its holster Moonbeam’s battle-saddle went off three times, putting three holes in the raider’s barrel.

“I think I’m in love with this thing,” the mare muttered happily.

“Hey, as long as you don’t start grinding against it, fine,” Thomas muttered back. “Also, he was mine.”

Moonbeam tried to ignore the sexual comment. “Not my fault you’re too slow,” she retorted.

“You literally have to bite on something and the guns goes off. You’re walking in front of me, I don’t want you putting a bullet in my ass by accident because something spooked you.”

“You fixed this thing, you know it has a safety. You’re just jealous.”

“Are we really gonna have this argument now?” Thomas asked.

“There’s a difference between an argument and banter,” Moonbeam responded smartly.

The man’s eyes darted around. “Let’s save this for later, y’know, when we’re not in the middle of a raider base.”

“Right. So, what now? Are we just gonna march in and shoot him?”

Thomas smirked. “If only it was that easy. He’s gonna have the best guarding him, and he’s not gonna be a pushover himself.” He looked at the building, in particular the rickety stairs on the side. “I have an idea.”

Thomas drew his arm back and threw another rock as Moonbeam watched, mouth agape in confusion. “What the fuck?”

“Just watch,” the man replied calmly as the rock sailed through a window.

“You fucks!” The window opened and a pony poked their head out. The pony turned around. “Get the launcher!”

“That’s not good,” Thomas muttered.

Moonbeam began to back away as the barrel of something huge was pushed through the broken glass. “Oh shit.”

Thomas ran towards the building as the weapon went whoosh! He didn’t see what came out, but his vision turned green as the projectile detonated. “Okay, bad idea.”

“You don’t say!?” Moonbeam yelled, panting as she leaned against the wall. “Goddess my head hurts.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, sure, just give me a minute.”

“You idiots! You missed!” a voice shouted from above.

Moonbeam went to unholster her SMG, but let out a cry of pain as the glow of her horn died out. “Fuck!”

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, looking at his companion.

“Something’s screwing with my magic,” the mare muttered angrily.

Before the pair could talk further, a grenade fell through the air between them. Thomas grabbed the grenade before the second bounce and threw it back through the window. “Oh shit!” was all they heard before an explosion destroyed the room.

“You think they’d have used that thing from before,” Moonbeam commented.

“Maybe they only had one shot,” Thomas suggested. “Or it takes too long to reload. We should get up there, take a look.”

“You can go first, Not much good without my magic.”

Thomas crept up the stairs, the old wood creaking the entire time. He eased open the door and was greeted to a room covered in blood. Filing cabinets had been knocked over, desks broken and the corpses of five raiders who had been in there lay on the ground, some missing limbs. A quick scan told Thomas that they had all been unicorns.

“We should bring that launcher thing with us,” he said as Moonbeam stepped inside, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Why?”

“Grim Star is gonna be interested in raiders having something like that,” he pointed out, inspecting the strange device. It vaguely resembled the missile launchers the Boomers loved, but it was a lot stockier, leading him to believe it used a different firing mechanism. It was also a lot sleeker, as though it had been designed to look pretty first. “And it’d be worth a fair bit, I bet.”

“Right,” Moonbeam muttered. “Maybe that can wait until - ”

“So,” a commanding voice said suddenly, interrupting her, “you walk into my camp, slaughter my soldiers, destroy my means of war and take out my best.” The pair turned to see a stallion, ash-grey with his mane hidden under a helmet made of scrap, the rest of his body similarly armoured. The entire thing was covered in an unnecessary number of spikes. The stallion smirked. “If I wasn’t so angry, I’d be impressed,” he said, levitating a strange brown thing with a pressure gauge attached to it.

“So you’re the one in charge?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, I hope you didn’t lose too many brain cells to come to that conclusion,” the stallion said snidely.

“May I get a name?” Thomas asked. “Sometimes it’s nice to put a name to a corpse.”

As the pair argued, Moonbeam backed away slowly, carefully readying her battle-saddle. She kept an eye on the strange device the raider boss had held in his magic. She had never seen anything like that before, and was wary about what it might do.

“My name is Steam Gauge, but you will call me ‘sir’. Now then, how would my underlings put it? Oh yes,” he said as the glow around the strange device intensified. “CHOO CHOO, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

The thing let out a toot! as Moonbeam felt something shoot past her face. She turned and saw a railway spike, easily seven inches long, embedded in the wall. She let out a whimper as she turned back, Steam Gauge slotting another spike into place.

Thomas didn’t give the stallion a chance to finish, tackling him and knocking him to the ground. The spike-launching device clattered to the ground harmlessly.

Steam Gauge didn’t seem to notice the loss of his weapon, or he didn’t care. He instead used his armour in an attempt to maim Thomas, trying to direct the blows the man rained onto him to the spikes. Thomas ignored the pain as he slammed fist after fist into the pony, denting the armour under the sheer force of the blows.

Steam managed to get his legs under Thomas and bucked up, sending the man flying across the room. Instead of staying down, the man jumped to his feet in an instant, just in time to see the stallion charge at him. Steam roared in pain as Moonbeam’s battle-saddle went off four times, each shot striking true. The bullets punched through the crude armour easily, but didn’t do much to slow him down.

“THERE ARE NO BRAKES ON THE PAIN TRAIN!” Steam Gauge yelled at the top of his lungs, lowering his head as he slammed into Thomas. Thomas staggered back, clutching his stomach. He looked up at the stallion, seeing the numerous spikes adorning his helmet covered in blood.

“Now you’re made me angry,” Thomas growled, ignoring the pain as best as he could. His hand shot to his hip, drawing his Sequioa. He pulled the trigger of the double-action revolver five times, each shot going through the raider’s armoured barrel.

“You think you can kill me!?” Steam screamed, staggering towards Thomas. As the man desperately reloaded, the stallion punched him in the gut. Thomas went down easily. “Because you can’t!”

Moonbeam’s battle-saddle went off again, with her not bothering to keep track of the number of shots she fired. Eventually, the weapon began to click, both magazines emptied. “What about me?” she asked the motionless body.

“T-thanks,” Thomas gasped, doing his best to keep himself steady. “Oh god this hurts.”

“Are you okay?” the mare asked, rushing to her injured friend.

“I got stabbed in the gut a few times. If the bleeding doesn’t kill me, infection will,” he explained. “No I’m not okay.”

“We need to get back to Tenpony,” Moonbeam said worriedly. “Can you make it?”

“Like this? Probably. Might need help. Firstly, though…” He walked shakily towards the unmoving body of Steam Gauge. “We need proof that we killed this guy.”

“Grab his helmet, that should be enough,” Moonbeam said, not really caring about that.

“It might not. Help me take off his armour.”

“Why are we doing this?” she asked. She tried to pull off a few of the spike-covered plates with her magic, wincing as she felt pain shoot through her horn.

“That mark on your ass is pretty much unique, right?”

“Yeah.” Moonbeam blinked as she realised what he was planning. “No. No no no.”

“What?” he asked.

“Because that’s wrong!” Moonbeam yelled, backing away. “You just don’t remove a pony’s cutie mark!”

“He’s dead, I don’t think he exactly cares,” Thomas pointed out.

“I’m not taking any part in this,” she replied defiantly.

“You fuck!” Steam Gauge suddenly yelled. Thomas stumbled back onto his ass. “You think you can just - ”

Toot!

Steam Gauge croaked as the tried to look at the spike that had suddenly found its way into his throat. He managed to stay standing for a few seconds before finally falling over.

“Is he dead now?” Moonbeam asked, dropping the spike-launcher.

“I hope so.” Thomas got his Sequoia and shot the stallion a few times in the head to make sure, the rifles round passing through his helmet unhindered. “Now he is.”

“Just… do whatever you’re going to do with the corpse so we can leave already,” Moonbeam sighed.

“Hey!” Thomas yelled, banging on Tenpony’s gate with his free hand. “We’re back!”

“We have an intercom,” a voice said unhappily.

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “We killed the raider boss, wiped out a good number of their forces, and blew up most of their ammo. We’re tired, injured and owed caps. You gonna let us in?”

“Give me a moment.” The gate’s mechanism whirred into life, letting them in. “Welcome to Tenpony Tower.” the voice said as the gate stopped moving.

The pair walked inside slowly, Thomas’s injuries finally catching up to him. “I really need to see that doctor,” he muttered.

“Unfortunately, Chief Star is somewhere else at the moment. He left me here to pay you,” an earth pony said. Thomas couldn’t help but smile at the black cowboy hat the stallion was wearing.

“Nice to meet you. We killed the boss, and brought back proof.”

“I heard. It’ll have to be some solid proof though,” the pony said.

“I brought his hat.” Thomas threw the helmet he had been holding at the stallion’s hooves.

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough,” the pony pointed out.

“Then how about this?” Thomas reached into his duster and pulled out two scraps, throwing them in front of the stallion.

He recoiled in horror as he saw the matching steam whistle on each piece of skin. “Th-th-that’s…”

“Six thousand caps,” Moonbeam said, not looking at the scraps of skin or the horrified ponies around them. “That’s what we’re owed.”

“W-why didn’t you just bring back his head?” the stallion asked.

“A few rifle rounds don’t exactly leave much. Can I see that doctor now?” Thomas asked impatiently. “I’m pretty sure I’m bleeding internally and I don’t want to die.”

“F-fine. We just need you to leave all your ammunition with us,” the stallion said, trying to regain his composure.

A unicorn appeared carrying a footlocker. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep your stuff secure,” he said confidently.

“Can this wait?” Thomas asked angrily. “I need to see a doctor!”

“You don’t look that hurt.”

Thomas simply undid a few straps of his body armour, lifting it up to show the blood-stained shirt he wore underneath. “Get me a doctor,” he growled. “Now.”

“Vigil, escort him to Helping Hoof,” the earth pony said hastily, eyes going wide at the sight of his injuries. “We’ll worry about your ammunition later.”

“Thank you,” he said angrily. He followed another earth pony through the doors, leaving Moonbeam alone with the rest of Tenpony’s security force.

“How tough is your friend?”

“He got shot in the back and stabbed in the stomach. Probably has a few broken ribs as well.” The mare couldn’t help but smirk at the shocked expressions the security ponies wore. “So, my ammo?” she asked, unstrapping one of her ammo boxes.

Author's Note

This was fun.
Also, I have the entirety of the main villains figured out. Can anyone guess who/what they are?

Memories and Coercion

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.

Preparation

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Preparation

Thomas tightened the laces of his boots and stood up. He swung his rifle over his shoulder into its sling, his SMG following moments later. As he holstered his Sequoia, he went through the list of places the ‘Twilight Society’, as they called themselves, had given him. Only one was within the city, and if his understanding of scale was correct he was looking at a cross-country trek across an area larger than the NCR to get to some of the other places. The names of some of the places hadn’t helped, either. He was sure that the map they’d shown him had a place called ‘Maripony’ on it.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised that a lot of the major population centres seemed to have names that were otherwise terrible puns. The exceptions seemed to be most of the small towns, though there were a few exceptions. Appleloosa, now that he could see it spelt, for example.

The possible location of replacement talismans were, apart from somewhere within Manehattan, an MAS warehouse in a place called Dodge Junction and the MAS Hub in what had once been the city of Canterlot. He expressed his complete and utter refusal to even step near the city, and they had agreed to that, stating that exploring the death-trap was to be a last resort.

He didn’t want to go too far outside of the city if he could help it, so he decided his best bet was the march across the city. It would easily take the least time and, if luck decided to side with him, he’d be done with this mess and on his way back to Vegas within a week.

Despite his desire to return to the closest thing he had to a home, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to leave so quickly. True, this place was more of the same, raiders and slavers and settlements struggling to survive, but that put him at ease. He knew what to do in this kind of situation, where the only justice was the kind dispensed from the barrel of a gun. That, and there was something about the raider war camp that kept him thinking.

Their level of preparedness was on par with small NCR platoons, indicating some sort of leadership. Coupled with the fact that most of their forces seemed to be raiders, this led him to believe that they could be a real threat if ignored. There was the possibility that he was looking at the world’s equivalent of the NCR, but if their actions were anything go by they were closer to the Legion. That thought worried him, the idea of a pack of fanatic zealots with magic was one that didn’t bear thinking about.

“Legion?” He turned to see Moonbeam looking at him, her eyebrows disappearing into her mane.

“Didn’t realise I said that out loud,” the man muttered. “Just something from back home,” he replied.

“Ah.” The mare nodded. “Well, I have to see if I can find a few traders, start negotiations.”

“Want help?”

Moonbeam shrugged. “You reckon you can?”

“Part of living on your own is knowing how to barter. Can’t always rely on being able to scavenge food or kill something to eat. You need something they want, or need. Medicine, for example,” he explained.

At that comment, she frowned. “I… I can’t think of anything we can really offer. I mean, we can find food, and chems, and maybe even the rare bit of tech, but what other scavenger can’t? We’re not like Arbu, able to farm radigator meat.”

“Moonbeam, you’re thinking wrong. You live in a library. Books everywhere.”

“Thomas, I can’t offer to sell the books,” Moonbeam pointed out. “Not without authorisation.”

“No, no, don’t sell the books. Sell what’s inside the books.” When she stared blankly at him, he rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you smarter than this?”

“It’s too early in the morning,” Moonbeam replied indignantly.

“Well, you said that the Library has shelves full of medical texts, right?”

“Yeah.” Moonbeam blinked. “Oh. Oooooh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’. What was that sign out the front of the Library again?” he asked, smirking.

“‘Knowledge is Power’. How did we never think of that?”

Thomas shrugged. “The more isolated a settlement, the easier it is for an outside perspective to point out the obvious.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she said carefully, not sure if he was sneakily insulting her. “And we can sell more than medical information as well. Somepony’s gonna want to know how to fix a radio, or put together a non-magical water purifier.”

“There you go,” Thomas said, slapping the mare lightly on the back. “You have your product, now you need to find a customer.”

Moonbeam deflated slightly. “Where am I gonna find somepony who wants to buy that kind of thing, though?”

“Look around, I’m sure you’ll find someone.” Thomas opened the door to the room and stepped out. “I have some business to take care of, I’ll see you later.”

“Hmm. Wait.” Moonbeam turned to the door just in time to see it closed. “Business?”

Thomas entered the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. As he leaned against the wall, waiting for the machine to descend, the door opened. He glanced up, seeing the little light tell him he was at the fifteenth floor. A pony, dressed in an old suit, stepped in, looking at him nervously.

As the doors closed, the stallion spoke up. “The portal to Tartarus is opened with the incantation of good intentions.”

“That is partly because that is the incantation they started with.” Thomas looked down at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“You can’t be too careful,” the stallion replied. “You have the device?”

“Yeah.” Thomas pulled the damaged Transportalponder from his duster and held it out. “Be careful, I don’t want it getting any more broken.”

“Yes, yes. Do you remember where you have to go?”

“You were all kinda vague on that last night. All you said was somewhere in the city.”

“Well, we weren’t happy with you threatening to kill one of us,” the stallion said angrily. “Anyway, an MAS delivery was disrupted because of the war. From what we’ve determined, it’s somewhere to the south, in the bay aboard a ship. We don’t know what to expect, though.”

“Sounds simple enough.” The door opened. “I’ll do what I can,” he muttered. “No promises I’ll find anything.”

“Try,” the stallion said as he pushed past.

“Ungrateful bastard,” Thomas muttered as he stepped into the lobby. He looked around, properly taking in the sights. There were a number of stores, selling anything a traveller might need. Armour, first aid, food. There were also a number of shops that didn’t make much sense, like the one that sold cheese.

Thomas did his best to ignore the stares as he walked around, but eventually it became too much. He fixed his gaze on a nearby pony, staring at her until she looked away. Then he kept on staring, making her fidget uncomfortably. “How about I stare at you for a while, see how you like it?” he asked harshly.

The pony ran away, leaving the man to shake his head. “Screw this,” he muttered, making his way towards security. “You sell ammo?” he asked as he got closer.

“Depends. We might not have what you want,” the dull red earth pony said, wearing the combat barding the rest of Tenpony’s security forces were wearing.. “Feel free to take a look though.”

True to the stallion’s words, there was a lack of both 12.7mm and 45.70-Govt. ammunition. Thomas had a way around that, though. “I’ll take the 10mm and .308 rounds. Fifty of each.” As they traded caps for bullets, he asked a question. “You got somewhere I can put ammo together?”

“Why would you need that?”

“These bullets won’t fit my guns, so I plan on taking them apart,” Thomas explained.

“Oh. We don’t have anything like that, we just get everything traded,” the earth pony said.

Thomas blinked. “I don’t suppose you can give me my caps back?”

“No refunds.”

“That’s… You are very lucky my guns aren’t loaded,” Thomas growled. “I’ve killed for less.”

“That’s nice,” the stallion said dismissively.

“You’re just making me want to strangle you, you know that?” The pony just stared at him impassively. “Fuck you.”

“Sorry, you’re not my type.”

Thomas just decided to walk away. “You got any idea where Grim Star is?” he asked.

“Why?” the earth pony asked back.

“Oh, I just need to ask him a few questions.” Thomas couldn’t help but smirk when he saw the pony’s eyes widen.

“Maybe I can help?” he asked, a little too quickly.

“Maybe you can. Or maybe I can just find your boss and ask him.”

“Please don’t go to the chief,” the pony pleaded. “Look, I’ll give you a refund, just don’t tell him.”

“Nah, I’ll keep a hold of them. I’ll figure something out. Still, if you can help…” Thomas looked around. “What do you know about the bay?” he whispered.

“The bay?” the pony asked quietly. “What about it?”

“Heard there’s some good scavenging there, a few warehouses and ships untouched. Thought I’d take a look.”

“Ah. Well, then you’d want the harbour, in the bay. The shipyard. You’ll want to be careful, there’s radigators in the water.”

“Radigators?” Thomas asked.

“Giant mutated alligators, at least three times as big as a pony. If they get close, they’ll drag you under the water and spin. If the radiation doesn’t get you, them breaking your neck will.”

“So take them out at range. Easy enough,” Thomas muttered. “Anything else?”

“Some of the warehouses are Ministry buildings, so there’d be some security. Probably turrets and robots.” The earth pony blinked. “Why are we whispering?”

“Why not?” the man asked. “Well, thanks. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for that.”

Thomas walked away, thinking about what he had said. If there were robots, he was going to need something. “Actually…” He turned around. “You got anything that can knock out a robot?”

“Pulse grenades? Yeah, we got some in.”

“How much?”

“50 caps each.”

“40 and I won’t tell your boss you tried to rip me off,” Thomas stated.

“I thought you didn’t care!” the earth pony stated.

“Oh, I can still use the ammo. But I am not gonna let you get away with this. So, 40 caps?” Thomas asked cheerily.

“Fine,” the red pony growled. “How many do you want?”

“How many do you have?”

Thomas eventually found Moonbeam seated at a table in one of Tenpony’s restaurants, digging into what looked like a steak. “Found you.”

The mare looked up from her meal. “Oh hey, Courier.”

“Any luck?” he asked, taking a seat next to her.

“Well, Helpinghoof said he wanted to send someone to get some texts, so that’s something.” She sighed, looking back at her meal. “But that’s it. I really need to find some more ponies to talk to, but there’s nopony around to sell to. All the restaurants get their meat, which we can’t provide. The stores get their stock from other caravans, so they don’t have any reason to come. The caravan that comes already brings us ammo, so I can’t use that as an argument.” Moonbeam banged her head into the table in aggravation. “What can I do?”

“Cheer up, Moonbeam,” Thomas said calmly, patting the mare on the back. “It’ll work out. You can’t just negotiate an entirely new trade route in one day. This kinda thing takes time.”

“I guess you’re right,” Moonbeam replied, looking up. “It still sucks.”

“Well, leave a note or something, get merchants who are interested to go there and say they want information.”

“They don’t know that, so I can’t.”

“Well, let it wait a bit. The place was locked down, right?” Thomas pointed out. “That means that any trade would have been postponed. I bet the DJ will make an announcement about the place being open for trade again.”

“And the sooner the better,” a pony behind the pair said suddenly. “We’ve had to start using our reserve stock.”

“I don’t recall you being a part of this conversation,” Thomas said politely, turning around to face the cream-cloured mare. “But you’re right, that means the merchants know they will have customers, know that they can make caps.”

“Sorry,” the mare said apologetically. “I couldn’t help but overhear and…”

“Don’t worry about it ma’am. It wasn’t a really private conversation anyway. Next time, though…”

“Of course. I’m Fillet, one of the cooks here,” the mare said, introducing herself. “Well, I say cook, but all we usually do is make the packaged stuff look nice.”

“Then what’s that?” Thomas asked.

“Radigator steak. One of the few things we actually cook,” she explained.

“Looks like you managed to undercook one side and overcook the other,” he noted, taking a look at the steak.

Fillet just glared at him. “And you know so much about cooking?”

“I should, spent the last twenty years away from civilisation, you learn to cook to stay sane. Well, that and hunting, first aid, lockpicking…” he listed, counting his fingers as he did. “Anyway, I know a lot more about cooking than you’d think.”

Fillet huffed and walked away. “You gonna eat something?” Moonbeam asked.

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Thomas said. “Besides, I want to get somewhere, and I want to leave as soon as possible.”

Moonbeam chewed on a mouthful of meat. “Want me to come with?”

“Aren’t you here on a trade mission?”

Moonbeam shrugged. “You said it yourself, gonna be a while before I can negotiate with any caravans. Maybe as well go and come back later, right?”

“Well, if you want.”

“Great.” The mare took another bite. “Sho,” she asked around a mouthful of meat, “whar ee ghoeen?”

“There’s a shipyard, heard that a few warehouses are still locked up.”

Moonbeam swallowed. “Okay, that’s where we’re going. Why are we going there?”

“You remember that thing I showed you?” Thomas whispered, looking around. “I found someone who might be able to fix it, but they want something that may be there.”

“So they’re sending you after something that might not be there in the hope that they could fix that thing that will take you home?” Moonbeam asked.

“It’s worth a shot,” Thomas said flatly.” And if it doesn’t work out, then I’ll just have a few more in my debt.”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “Again with the debt thing…”

Author's Note

Don't worry, this is going somewhere.

Heathen

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Heathen

Thomas and Moonbeam had set out shortly after, this time with a map in hand. If the path was clear, it would only take them about eight hours to get there, but the route was dangerously close to the blast zone. It would also place them within view of a Ranger outpost, though Thomas was sure that they wouldn’t be a problem.

A large number of Radaway had been stashed inside Thomas’s duster, and Moonbeam was wearing her saddlebags in addition to her ammo boxes. The pair had no idea what they might find, and wanted to be prepared for anything interesting.

To Thomas, the scenery was beginning to get repetitive. Every ruined building seemed to look the same, every ruined cart and skeleton identical. The only thing that assured him that they weren’t going in a circle was the occasional road sign they passed, which he checked against his map so they would stay on course.

Moonbeam glanced looked up at Thomas. “Who’d you find to fix your thing anyway?”

“Can’t tell,” the man replied calmly. “Part of the agreement. Besides, I know where to find them, and what to do if they break their word.”

“Let me guess,” Moonbeam asked darkly, “the same thing you did to that slaver?”

Thomas sighed. “That was different and you know that. All I’ll do with these assholes is break a few legs, nothing major.”

The mare couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Violence doesn’t solve everything.”

“Violence perceived is violence achieved. If I make them think I’ll hurt them if they don’t cooperate, they’ll cooperate.”

“So you’re going to scare them into doing the right thing?”

“Hey, don’t doubt the power of fear as a motivator. They know that I’m not someone to betray, they’ll keep up their end of the bargain.”

“Right,” Moonbeam said skeptically. “And what are you gonna do if you can’t find the thing you’re looking for?”

“They said I might find it in a place called ‘Dodge Junction’, you know anything about that place?” he asked.

Moonbeam frowned. “The name rings a bell. I think I read somewhere that it was a major supply depot for both the Ministry of Wartime Technology and the Ministry of Arcane Sciences. The MWT and the MAS worked together on power armour, so I guess it makes sense that they’d keep all their things in one place. Sounds like the Rangers’ dreams come true,” she added.

“A place like that, it’ll have been looted by now,” Thomas commented.

“And the shipyard won’t be?”

“They mentioned something about security, turrets and robots. Not something the average scavenger tries to get past,” he said. “That, and some of the ships out in the bay itself - ”

“Woah woah woah. What was that? Did you just say you were gonna go into some of the ships?” Moonbeam asked loudly. “You didn’t say anything about that!”

“I’m not gonna ask you to come along, not if you don’t want to.”

“Hey, you already dragged me this far,” the mare grumbled. “I can’t swim, though.”

“I think swimming is a minor concern next to the possibility of radiation poisoning,” Thomas pointed out. “As long as you stay afloat, though, I should be able to get to you.”

“I don’t see how I can do that if I’m carrying…” She trailed off as she did a few quick calculations. “At least forty pounds of gear.”

“So am I, at least,” the man pointed out.

“But you know how to swim,” Moonbeam retorted.

“Good point,” Thomas conceded. “If it makes you feel safer, you don’t have to go on the ship with me, okay?”

“A little.”

The pair fell into silence again as they trekked through the city. As they walked, Thomas noticed something in the air above them. “What the hell is that?”

Moonbeam looked up. “I dunno. It’s too high up.” She frowned as she shape got closer. “It looks like… a…” Her eyes went wide in panic. “We gotta hide.”

“Is that one of those - ”

“Yes it is, now move before it gets down here!” The mare turned and ran back the way they had come, hoping to escape

“A foolish endeavour!” a booming voice proclaimed, a previously-invisible alicorn revealing herself right in Moonbeam’s path. The mare squealed as she skidded to a stop.

“Oh great, Nightkin,” Thomas commented. “What do you want?” he asked loudly.

“The Goddess does not make known her plans!” the teal alicorn said, sounding like she was shouting through a megaphone.

“What do you want with us?” Thomas asked.

“Her!”

“Oh not this again,” Moonbeam muttered, covering her ears so she wouldn’t go deaf.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,” Thomas deadpanned. “We have business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way.”

“One does not simply refuse a request of the Goddess,” an alicorn hissed from behind the man.

“Can I have a name?” he asked. “I don’t want to keep calling you Green and Blue.”

“We have no need for names. We live only for the glory of the Goddess. Names would merely hinder us.”

Thomas turned and found himself eye-to-eye with the dark green alicorn. It was a little odd being able to look a pony in the eyes, so used was he to having to look down. “Look, ma’am, all I want is a name. Is that really so hard?”

“We are the Goddess!”

Thomas rubbed his ears, noting that Moonbeam had backed into his leg. “A name, not a title,” he stated. “I am not calling you by the name your narcissist of a leader gave herself.”

The blue alicorn stared at him for a moment before her horn began to glow. “The Goddess has no time for your prattling! Give us the unicorn or we will obliterate you!”

“No.” The alicorns looked a little shocked by the bluntness of his reply. “You want her, you’ll have to kill me first.”

“Very well,” Green alicorn stated, her horn beginning to glow brighter. Thomas jumped out of the way as a bolt of lightning shot from her horn.

“Not good enough!” Thomas shouted, aiming his Sequoia at the Blue. He pulled the trigger but was kicked in the side before he could tell if he had struck true.

“Your weapons cannot harm us! We are the daughters of the Goddess!” the alicorns roared in unison.

Thomas picked himself up, Moonbeam helping him onto his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Why does your cult want unicorns?” he asked, hoping to buy some time.

“That is none of your concern! The Goddess only wishes to uplift her!” the alicorn Thomas had shot at shouted.

“You’re pissed off because I wiped out that base filled with unicorns near Tenpony, aren’t you?” he asked. “They were some of your cultists, weren’t they?”

“What unicorns do you speak of?” Blue asked. “The Goddess has not heard of them, though those who wish to worship us will always be welcome.”

“Nothing to do with you? Never mind then,” Thomas said.

“Wait,” Moonbeam asked timidly. “If they weren’t with you, then who were they with?”

“We do not know,” Green answered before her horn began to glow again. “The Goddess grows increasingly impatient with your continued prattling. Give us the unicorn!”

“Again, no.” Thomas leveled his revolver at the blue one. “Just leave us alone, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

“We will not leave without the unicorn in our company,” the Blue said. “Your puny weapon means nothing to us!” she boasted.

Thomas fired, and Green’s head exploded. “Huh?”

“What just happened?” Moonbeam asked.

“What trickery is this!?” Blue shouted. She was unable to get any further as her neck exploded, covering the mare and man in gore as her head bounced on the ground.

“What just happened?” Moonbeam repeated.

“Are you okay!?” a voice called out.

The pair looked up and saw a curious mix of bird and cat flying down at them, a huge rifle with a scope in its claws. It was wearing barding similar to Moonbeam’s, though it was darker and better maintained.

“Who are you?” Thomas asked as the griffon touched down, carefully setting his rifle down.

“Well that’s no way to greet your saviour,” the half-bird said in mock-anger, the grubby golden feathers in his face creasing. “If I’d known you’d be like that, I’d have left you to them,” he said, gesturing at the headless alicorns.

“Thanks for saving us,” Moonbeam said gratefully, glancing at the bodies.

“Ah. See?” he asked Thomas. “The lady knows how to show her gratitude. And no, ma’am,” he said, turning to the mare, “the pleasure was all mine. It would have been a shame for a flower as beautiful as you to be corrupted by the Unity.” He took her right forehoof and gently pecked it.

As Moonbeam turned crimson and stammered, Thomas rolled her eyes. “Dinner and a date first, pal, don’t you know the rules?”

“Dinner, I can provide. A date, on the other hand, will be much more difficult,” the griffon said calmly. “Ah, but how inexcusable! I haven’t even given you my name! I am Gallant Goodwing.”

“Well, I’m the Courier, and the stammering mess there is Moonbeam,” Thomas said, pointing at the mare in question. “Why’d you save us?”

“Like I said, it wouldn’t have been right to let those mindless beasts take away such a rare flower.” Moonbeam’s blush intensified. “Besides, you looked like you needed the help.”

“Well, thanks.” Thomas glanced at the griffon’s gun. “Never seen a rifle like that.” That wasn’t strictly true, as he had seen more than his fair share of anti-materiel rifles, but this one had a number of modifications he had never seen before.

“Spiritus?” he asked, scooping up his rifle. Where the barrel met the forestock were a number of light blue crystals, each one glowing with an eerie light. “Found her in an MWT stockpile years ago. The only sound it makes is when you pull back the bolt and reload.

Thomas whistled. “Sounds like a sniper’s dream.”

“That it is,” Gallant said affectionately. “We should move,” he said suddenly, “more might come.”

“Good point,” Thomas muttered. “Moonbeam?”

“Huh?” the mare asked, still flustered.

“You coming?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m afraid I can’t go with you,” the griffon said politely.

“Why not?” Thomas asked suspiciously.

“Those aren’t the first alicorns I’ve killed, and they certainly won’t be the last. And the only way I can continue is on my own.”

“Awww,” Moonbeam moaned in mild disappointment.

“Fret not, our paths may cross again some day,” Gallant said gallantly before taking to the air.

“You got a crush on him?” Thomas asked.

“W-what!?” Moonbeam spluttered. “No!”

“Right,” Thomas replied cheekily. “Come on, we gotta get moving. Just what was he, anyway?”

The rest of their walk passed uneventfully, something they were both grateful for. They’d had enough excitement for one day, and simply wanted to try and find what Thomas had been sent for.

“What are we looking for?”

“They said it’s likely be on one of the ships,” Thomas answered as they walked through the gate, “but it wouldn’t hurt to check the warehouses while we’re here.” During the walk, he had removed his mask, claiming that it had been affecting his peripheral vision. He still wore his helmet, though, refusing to surrender the protection it offered.

“The warehouses that may have been broken into?” she clarified. “And if they haven’t been, that’s because of robots and turrets?”

“Yep.”

The warehouses could easily be seen from where they were, six great big boxes of concrete and steel. On each of them was a different symbol, which Moonbeam explained as the symbol of each Ministry. He couldn’t help but snort when he saw the MWT’s was almost identical to the Brotherhood of Steel’s, further cementing his belief that they were a pack of Brotherhood wannabes.

“Let’s crack open that one first,” Thomas said, pointing at the warehouse with the symbol of the Ministry of Peace.

“Yeah, we could use some healing potions if things get nasty,” Moonbeam commented.

The warehouse had two doors, a big roller door that stretched up several dozen feet into the air, and a small door next to it. Naturally, Thomas set about picking the lock with Moonbeam keeping watch.

“Isn’t a bit strange?”

“What?” Thomas asked as he tried to find the sweet spot.

“That this place hasn’t been touched once in two hundred years. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It is a bit strange,” Thomas admitted. “Still, I don’t question a good thing like this. I was warned about radigators, though,” he added.

“Radigators?” Moonbeam asked. “You mean the twenty-foot long, armoured, territorial and incredibly dangerous radigators?”

“Sounds like a deathclaw. And we only have to worry about them if we fall in the water.” The lock clicked open. “Moonbeam, get ready.”

The opened slowly on ancient hinges, revealing darkness. Thomas quickly turned up the brightness on his Pip-Boy and walked in, revolver pointed forwards just in case. He didn’t expect anything, but experience had taught him that being paranoid was a practical approach.

Moonbeam did the same, instead using her horn for light, her SMG hovering in front of her. “You see anything?” she hissed.

“Looks like someone beat us here,” Thomas whispered back, gesturing at a damaged crate. “Let’s see if they missed anything.”

The pair stepped through the warehouse carefully, their footsteps echoing through the still building. Every crate they passed had been broken open, leaving no hope of gathering anything useful. At least, until they reached the very back. “Is that crate untouched?”

“Looks like it,” Moonbeam muttered. She approached it and wrenched the lid open. She jumped up and stuck her head in, grabbing some of the contents. She spat a number of flat packets onto the ground. “What are these things?”

“No idea.” Thomas leaned down and picked one up. “‘Extra pleasure’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Moonbeam shrugged. “I dunno.” She tore one of the packets open, revealing a strange rubbery disc. “Well this is weird,” she commented.

“And useless, come on, let’s get outta here.”

The pair left the box and its mysterious contents behind, leaving the warehouse through the door they entered from. “Is it just me,” Moonbeam asked, “but is it too quiet?”

“Moonbeam, there are a few say you never ask, even as a joke. ‘That was too easy’, ‘it’s too quiet’, ‘it can’t get any worse’, ‘what could possibly go wrong?’... That’s just asking for trouble.” Thomas walked towards the second warehouse, the one bearing the symbol of the MAS. The warehouse seemed to be in worse shape, as though someone had tried to blast their way in.

“That looks promising,” Moonbeam muttered.

“Yeah,” the man nodded, “means there must be something worth taking.”

“You think the thing we’ll be looking for is in there?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Maybe.” Thomas scratched his chin. “Let’s find another way in.”

“How do we know there is another way in? And even if there is, who’s to say we can even use it?”

“I’d rather waste time looking for an entrance that isn’t there than rush blindly in and get torn apart by robots,” he countered. “If nothing else, it’ll give us time to think.”

The pair circled the building but found nothing. True to his word, though, he managed to come up with several ideas about how to get around any security.

“Turrets are a certainty. Robots, no idea. If there are, they’ll be old, which means that they’ll be slow. We might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“What do you mean?” the mare asked.

“They can only track one target. If I run out and draw their fire, you should be able to take them out,” the man explained. “Even if you don’t kill it, it’ll get its attention so I can use a pulse grenade to fry it.”

“If you have pulse grenades, why not just use them straight away?”

“In a dark room?” he asked back. “I’m more likely to overshoot and waste it.”

“True. So, what, wait for it to fire then use a pulse grenade?”

“That, or we find the light switch,” he offered. “Only problem is that throws stealth out the window.”

“The last time we attempted stealth it ended with you get stabbed in the stomach,” Moonbeam pointed out flatly.

Thomas considered her words. “Fuck it, guns blazing it is.”

Thomas carefully opened the door and poked his head around. To his annoyance the burnt husk of a stationary turret was not three feet from him. “Guess someone’s been here first,” he muttered.

“You going first?” Moonbeam asked.

“Get ready to cover me.” Thomas eased the door open and stepped in, his rifle at the ready. He looked around, his mask providing him with the low-light vision to see. “Looks clear,” he whispered as Moonbeam slipped in behind him.

“The turrets will be connected to a terminal,” the mare said as she looked around.

“And if we’re really lucky, any robots will be too.” Thomas stepped forwards carefully, scanning the area in front of him. The warehouse was filled with crates, untouched by the war that had destroyed the world. He stopped when Moonbeam fell over something with a crash.

“Ow…” the mare moaned to his left.

“Dammit Moonbeam,” he growled. He stopped complaining when he saw that she had tripped over a set of Steel Ranger’s power armour, riddled with holes and horrifically dented. “Oh that can’t be good.”

“Intruder detected,” a dull mechanical voice said, the sound drawing their attention. The squeaking of wheels and the dull hum of motors filled the air as the mare picked herself up.

“And it just got worse.”

Author's Note

Speven: Whenever I get Ed to help, we instead go off on random tangents. Somehow a conversation about Fallout 4 turned to discussion about some of the brony R34 artists.

Ed: Blame him, not me. I’ll never think of toothpaste the same way now.

Bots and Bytes

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Bots and Bytes

“Threat assessment. Primary target at large and undamaged. Security lockdown in effect.”

Thomas waited as the robot rolled past their hiding place, the squeaking of its wheels fading as it disappeared deeper into the warehouse. “Well,” he whispered, “this is bad.”

“That’s the fifth time you’ve said that,” Moonbeam replied, keeping her voice low. “What are we gonna do?”

“The next one that comes this way, I’ll use one of the grenades.” Thomas peeked over the crate and looked around. He couldn’t see any of the four-wheeled, heavily-armed monstrosities, to his relief.

“What if that doesn’t work?” Moonbeam asked worriedly.

“Well… We can always try shooting. Aim for the head, maybe we can knock out its vision. Failing that, we drop something on it.” The mare stared at him. “Hey, I don’t care how tough it is, I really doubt it can survive a few hundred pounds of crap falling onto it.”

“But if we want to do that, we have to climb up,” Moonbeam pointed out. “And if we do that, they’ll see us.”

“Shh,” he said. “There’s another one coming.”

The pair fell silent as another of the wheeled robots squeaked its way towards them. “Scanning,” it said, its voice a dull mechanical monotone.

Thomas took his chance and lobbed one of the pulse grenades over the crate. It went off with familiar shockwave of crackling electrical energy, but it made his fingers and toes tingle as the energy washed over him.

“Intruder detect-ect-ect-ect-ect-ected,” the robot sputtered, turning at a snail’s pace to face the direction the projectile had come from. The second grenade bounced off its armoured shell and went off, making the robot fizzle as its spell matrix fell apart.

“Well, the grenades work, so that’s something,” Thomas muttered, surveying the unmoving robot.

“Yeah, but it took two,” Moonbeam noted. “How many are there?”

“Disturbance detected,” they heard another of the robots say, the squealing of its rusted wheels heralding its approach.

“We’re about to find out.

“Disturbance detected.”

“Disturbance detected.”

“Disturbance detected.”

“Disturbance detected.”

“Disturbance detected.”

Moonbeam stared at Thomas, who had gone slackjawed under his mask. “Fuck.”

“Okay,” Thomas muttered as more robots made it known that they had detected a disturbance, “don’t panic, we can do this. We can do this.”

“Are you saying that to me or you?” Moonbeam asked dryly. “No wonder those Rangers got killed,” she mumbled.

“We need them to cluster together,” Thomas muttered. “We do that, we take out as many as we can at the same time.”

“And how are we gonna do that?” Moonbeam hissed. Thomas just turned to face her. “No. Whatever it is, I’m not doing it!” she growled.

“Did you think I was gonna send you out as bait?” Thomas asked.

The mare blinked. “Maybe?” she asked back nervously.

“Have a little faith,” he replied, sounding a little hurt. “No, I just need you to get their attention.”

“I can do that.” Moonbeam unholstered her SMG and fired a five-round burst at the ceiling.

“Not what I had in mind, but…” Thomas took a deep breath as the squeaking got closer, each robot screaming “Hostile detected!” in their tinny voices.

“This is gonna suck, isn’t it?” Moonbeam asked, lowering her gun as she looked around.

“Just keep your head down,” Thomas hissed.

“This is now a live-fire zone. Non-hostiles are advised to leave the area,” one of the robots warned.

“Moonbeam, take these,” Thomas handed the mare a pair of pulse grenades, “and get ready to use them.”

“What do you want me to do!?”

“Do I really need to explain this?” he asked. “You throw it and kill the robots.”

“But what if I miss!?”

“We’re gonna be up to my eyes in robots, there’s no way you can miss. Here they come,” he warned.

Moonbeam tensed as the first robot rolled to a stop in front of their crate. “Scanning for hostiles, it said. It was soon joined by at least a dozen more, each one loudly announcing their intent. Silently whispering a prayer to Celestia, Luna and whoever else was watching, she lobbed one of her grenades at the robots, sighing in relief as it clanged against their outer shells.

“Warning!” they screamed, their tinny voices crackling as they attempted to find the thing that had hit them.

Thomas had prepared his grenade when the first went off. He paused, waiting to see if a single pulse would have the same effect on that many. “Hostile detected!” the robots declared, the sounds of their missile launchers slotting rockets into place and miniguns spinning up.

Before the man could do anything, they opened fire. To his confusion, though, absolutely no bullets or explosives came in their direction. Even more confusing was that it sounded like the robots were under attack. Cautiously, he looked over the top of the crate.

He ducked back down again when one of the four-wheeled death machines blew another up, sending scraps of metal and bullets flying. “What’s going on?” Moonbeam asked.

“I think the pulse fried their combat inhibitors,” Thomas guessed. “Now they’re killing each other.”

“Wait, really?” Moonbeam peeked over the box, ducking back down a moment later, yelping “Aigh!” as she threw herself to the ground. A wheel passed through the space her head had just occupied. “Okay,” she muttered breathlessly, “that was scary.”

“Well, we can just wait,” the man said, leaning against the crate. “Pick off the survivors, then dig around.”

“Do you really think we’ll find what you’re looking for?”

Thomas glanced at the mare. “Honestly? No, but that’s because experience has taught me that it’s always in the last place you look. And seeing that they gave me two other possibilities, one being Canterlot…”

“No,” Moonbeam said loudly. “No! I don’t care what you promise, I am not following you into that... that…”

“Calm down, Moonbeam,” he replied, chuckling a little. “I ain’t going anywhere near that place, you can trust me on that.”

“I hope so,” she muttered.

Thomas poked his head around the crate and saw that there was one robot left. Without thinking, he threw the grenade, watching as it bounced off its head and detonated, killing it. “Now that that’s taken care of,” he said, standing up and walking over to the wreckage, “we can continue scavenging.”

“About damn time,” Moonbeam muttered. She stopped walking when she saw just what they had been fighting. “Those… are Sentinels,” she stated calmly.

“Sentinels?” he asked. Now that he could get a better look at them when they weren’t trying to murder him, he saw that they strongly resembled sentry bots. The armaments seemed the same, a minigun complemented by a missile launcher. He was very glad that they had been able to take them out without getting into a fight.

From the glimpses he had caught before he knew that they were vaguely pony-shaped. Seeing that sentry bots were vaguely humanoid, it made sense that the Sentinel’s designers would follow the same thought processes. The weapons were mounted like a battle-saddle, the minigun on the left side. Their armour was impressive, smooth plates that covered every joint and made the Sentinel appear very unnatural and imposing.

“Yeah, guess it makes sense that they’d be here. They were designed to provide heavy protection for high value sites, like this,” Moonbeam explained. “The only thing worse than a Sentinel is an Ultra Sentinel.”

“What, a giant version?” Thomas asked jokingly.

“No, more like a death machine the size of small house,” she clarified. Hearing that reminded Thomas of the mess in the Big Empty’s Forbidden Zone. “Only read about those, but one was used to reclaim Stalliongrad after the zebras captured it.”

“Zebras?” Thomas asked.

“I never explained that?” Moonbeam asked back.

“You can tell me about it later,” he replied. “Right now, we need to find where they kept the inventory.”

“Yeah, last thing I want to do is spend the next week opening every crate to try and find that thing you’re after,” Moonbeam muttered. “The terminal with it should be at the back, if it’s still working.”

“The fact that the robots were is promising,” Thomas said positively.

“Won’t mean much if the power supply failed and we can’t put something together.”

Thomas grinned under his mask. “That a challenge?” he asked cockily.

“You wanna stick your hand in a spark generator and kill yourself, be my guest. Just try not to damage your gear too much, okay?” she asked. “I wanna be able to sell it afterwards.”

Thomas chuckled, knowing the mare didn’t really mean anything by it. “Come on, let’s find this terminal.”

The two set off towards the back of the building, hoping to come across an office or a workstation. The pair’s hopes weren’t that high, given the age of the building, and their expectations were matched when the office they found didn’t have any power.

“Well now what?” Thomas asked.

“A building like this, especially a government building, would have a backup generator somewhere,” Moonbeam said. “It’ll be close, too, I bet.”

As the mare looked around for the spark generator, Thomas turned up his Pip-Boy’s light and scanned the room. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a few desks, a number of dead terminals, clipboards and coffee mugs lying around where they had been abandoned.

The lights of the room suddenly turned on, accompanied by a strange chugging noise. “Good news, the spark generator is like new,” Moonbeam said happily. “We should be able to use the terminals now.”

“Great,” Thomas replied, turning his Pip-Boy’s screen back down. Moonbeam went over to one of the ancient computers and turned it on. As she waited, he realised something. “Wait, won’t that have a password?”

Moonbeam stared blankly as the terminal’s screen showed the message ‘Enter password’ blinking at her. “Fuck!” she yelled. “Now how are we gonna find anything!?”

“What, you never cracked the security on one of these things?” Thomas asked, gently pushing her aside. “Let me try.”

Moonbeam watched as the man hammered away at the keyboard. “What are you doing?”

“Huh,” Thomas mumbled, his face coloured green by the screen. “This is basically RobCo termlink protocol. Some of the names are different, but it’s pretty obvious.”

“What are you talking about?” Moonbeam asked, trying to get a look at what he was doing.

“Terminals like these have security backdoors for administrators to use if something happens. Pretty much the only way to do anything is by using them.”

“And how will that help?”

“I should be able to pull up a record of all the previous passwords. It won’t tell me what it is, but it’ll be easy enough to figure it out.” Thomas typed a few more times before leaning back. “Okay!” he said triumphantly. “We have a list. Now we just need to figure out which is the right one.”

“And how do we do that?” Moonbeam asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Luck,” the man said simply.

She blinked. “I’m sorry, but did you just say luck?” she asked. “We’re just gonna guess and hope for the best?”

“There’s usually a pattern to this kinda thing,” he admitted. “What were the MAS, exactly? Scientists?”

“Weapons development and magical research, why?”

“Anything to do with that is too obvious, so we ignore all of them.” He scanned the words. “So that’s at least half, I think.”

Moonbeam read down the list. “So, what, something more personal?”

“Pet names, names of their children, hobbies…”

“What about that one?” the mare asked, pointing at the screen.

“Really, ‘password’?” the man asked. “No-one’s that stupid.”

“Hey, you saw the robots,” Moonbeam pointed out. “Maybe whoever set the password didn’t really think it mattered much.”

“Guess it’s worth a shot… These things usually give you a few chances, too. All right then,” he decided.

They stared blankly at the screen as ‘password’ was accepted without a problem. “I stand corrected.”

“Yeah, there was somepony that stupid.” Moonbeam tapped a few keys and found a file named ‘inventory’. “Okay, let’s see if you can find what you came here for.”

Thomas opened the file and scrolled all the way to the bottom. “Hmm… You got any idea what day the bombs fell?”

“Nope.”

“Then this is practically useless.” Thomas went back and looked at the other options. “The shipment won’t have have a name we can recognise. Check the messages. Something as important as what I’m looking for will be mentioned there.”

“Can you tell me what you are looking for?” Moonbeam asked. “That way, I can help better.”

The man considered it for a moment. “All right, but only because you’d find out anyway. The folks fixing my way back home need a replacement shield talisman for Tenpony Tower,” he explained. “Finding it, or maybe just trying to find it, is payment.”

Moonbeam scanned the messages. “Okay, that’s… that’s pretty serious. No wonder they wanted to keep it quiet. Hey,” she said, turning to look at him, “you don’t think those raiders knew, do you?”

“I doubt it.” Thomas pointed at the screen. “Open that one, would you?”

Moonbeam did as he said. “Why do you doubt it?”

“They seemed organised, but not smart enough. I do think someone sent them, though.”

“What do you mean?” the mare asked, reading through the message to find anything useful.

“Steam Gauge didn’t seem like the brains. Smart enough, but someone must have told him to attack Tenpony.”

“Why attack Tenpony, though?” Moonbeam questioned, turning from the screen to look at him. “It’s one of the most heavily fortified settlements in the Wasteland, the only one that beats it is Friendship City.”

“No idea,” Thomas replied. “We’re missing something, that’s for sure. Some detail that’ll reveal everything.”

“How about we focus on this for now?” Moonbeam asked. “Then, you can go hunt down the truth or whatever.”

“Right.” Thomas turned back to the message. “Hmm. Unloading the ship was delayed by a week. So if it’s anywhere…”

“... Then we need to get on a ship that has spent the last two hundred years turning into a rusty sieve,” Moonbeam said, finishing his sentence flatly. “You can count me out.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound safe,” the man agreed. “Well, this was a waste of time. All we found were some strange rubber discs, robots and the stupidest password ever.”

“Wait,” Moonbeam said, holding a hoof up. “Keep reading this.”

Thomas leaned forwards and read further down. “Special gun… enchanted safe… combination… fifty-nine by twenty-eight by forty-two by ten. Moonbeam!” he said loudly. “Help me find that safe!”

The two scoured the room, moving desks and filing cabinets to locate the safe. After close to five minutes, Moonbeam found it. “Help me move this bookcase!” She and Thomas worked together to push the ancient thing out of the way.

“All right then,” Thomas said as he kneeled in front on the safe. “Just need to - YEEOW!” he exclaimed, withdrawing his hand.

“What happened?”

“It zapped me!” he replied angrily, resisting the urge to kick it. “The fucking thing zapped me!”

“Huh. Strange enchantment. Do you think it’ll react that way to my magic?” she asked, eyeing the safe warily.

“I hope not. If we leave empty-handed I’m going to kick a baby or something.”

“You don’t actually mean that, do you?” Moonbeam asked, staring at the man in shock.

“Not really.”

The mare rolled her eyes and manipulated the combination lock with her magic, carefully stopping the dial on the correct number exactly. With a creaking of ancient hinges, the safe opened, revealing its contents. “What is this?” she asked, pulling something out.

To Thomas, it bore some resemblance the riot shotguns the Gun Runners sold. A glance told him that it had a drum-shaped magazine instead of a feed. It was a lot sleeker, and much more compact. There was also a lot more metal and plastic involved in its construction. Along the top of the barrel was a rail, something which he recognised from a few rifles he had come across. But what really caught his attention was the large number of emerald gems embedded around the receiver.

“That is the flashiest thing I have ever seen,” Thomas commented. “That is worse than the Pimp-Boy.”

“I wonder what it does,” Moonbeam said quietly, inspecting the shotgun from every angle.

“You got any shotgun shells?” the man asked.

“I saw some inside the safe.” The mare’s horn glowed brighter for a moment. “Come on!”

“Uhh…”

“It’s caught on something!” The mare tugged for a few moments before whatever was causing her trouble came loose. “Woah!” she exclaimed as she nearly rolled over onto her head. Thomas caught the thing as it shot out.

“Careful, you nearly… broke the…” He stared at the thing in his hands. “Huh. So this is a Pip-Buck.” The device was very similar to the one on his arm, but there were definitely a few design differences. He stowed the small computer into his duster and turned to Moonbeam. “You okay?” he asked as she got back onto her hooves.

“Been better.” She shook her head a few times. “You wanna see what this thing does?” she asked, pointing at the shotgun.

“Go for it.”

Moonbeam loaded the weapon, the magazine taking ten shells. She pointed it at an innocent filing cabinet and pulled the trigger. The pair had expected the gunshot. What they hadn’t expected was the flash of emerald fire from the barrel, nor for a dozen or so holes to be melted through the weak metal.

Thomas inspected the holes, the edges glowing green. “It shot plasma.” He turned to Moonbeam who was gaping. “That shotgun shoots plasma,” he repeated in disbelief.

Author's Note

Why would the safe zap those who touch it? Anti-zebra precaution.
Originally, the shotgun was just gonna shoot fire. But I decided that was boring, especially for an MAS weapon.

Tin Soldiers

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Tin Soldiers

“Okay, that was a bust.”

“I wouldn’t say that. After all, we found your new toy,” the man said, nodding at the enchanted shotgun that Moonbeam had sticking out of her saddlebags. They had located a number of documents on the prototype weapon, which alternately called it ‘Dragon’s Fury’ and ‘Assistant’, like the designer couldn’t decide. “Hopefully, we won’t run into any more of those alicorns. Super Mutants, I can deal with,” Thomas commented. “But those things?”

“Didn’t you say something about alicorns being this world’s equivalent of your world’s Super Mutants?” Moonbeam asked. “Are they that different?”

“Super Mutants can’t make bubble shields, fly, use magic or go invisible. Well, Nightkin can, but they need a Stealth-Boy and it drives them insane,” he explained. “But Nightkin sort of shimmer, so you can make them out if you try. I didn’t notice that blue one before.”

“Yeah… Good thing that griffon showed up when he did.”

“Hmm. Good thing,” Thomas muttered. “A bit too good, if you think about it.”

“What do you mean?” the mare asked, not taking her eyes off of the MWT warehouse they were walking towards.

“Someone who has a weapon that can kill an alicorn in a heartbeat just happens to be in the area? And they just happen to see them trying to attack us? And him being willing to help?” he asked back. “One is luck, two is a happy coincidence, but all three? We might wanna start watching our backs,” he said ominously.

“You think somepony’s after us?” Moonbeam asked. “That doesn’t make any sense! Why wouldn’t they just let those alicorns kill you and take me if they want us dead?”

“Still, we shouldn’t let our guard down. Who knows what might happen.” Thomas pushed the door to the MWT warehouse, which creaked open. “Get ready.”

The pair stepped into the building, guns at the ready. They weren’t needed. “Fuck,” Moonbeam exclaimed, looking around as she lowered her SMG.

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, pointing his Medicine Stick to the side. The interior looked like it had been hit by a herd of looters. Crates had been ripped open, their contents scattered. The Sentinels that had guarded the facility had been obliterated, reduced to nothing but scrap and wires, the floor near the wreckage riddled with small craters. “Who do you think did this?”

“This is an MWT building, so I’d guess the Rangers,” Moonbeam hazarded. “A place like this would have had power armour or something.”

“So why did they clear out this building but not the other one?” Thomas asked, prodding one of the destroyed robots with his boot.

“Maybe they didn’t have time? Or it wasn’t important?” The mare shrugged. “I have no idea. So, we gonna leave?”

“I doubt that they’d have taken everything. Let’s take a look, five minutes.”

The two split up, taking different routes. Everywhere they looked, there was nothing left worth taking. Every ammo box had been emptied, every rack of missiles stripped. He had to admit, whoever had been through here had been methodical. Thomas was about to give up when he found a sniper rifle. It was dented, and needed a good cleaning, but otherwise seemed fine. After going over the weapon, he quietly dismantled it and stashed it into his duster.

They met back up where they had started. “Nothing. They cleared this place out,” Moonbeam said bitterly, kicking a fragment of turret. “No corpses, either.”

“So it would have been Rangers, can’t imagine they’d like leaving power armour around for anyone to grab,” Thomas mused.

“What about those bodies in the other warehouse, then?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment. “Well, there were all those robots. Probably decided it wasn’t worth the risk.”

“I… guess that makes sense,” the mare conceded. “We’re not gonna walk back to Tenpony, are we?”

“No, not now. Bloodwings and raiders and alicorns. I was really hoping to find some bullets in this building,” Thomas sighed. “At least I found a sniper rifle, but I really need something for a normal firefight.”

“Next time we kill some raiders, just take one of theirs,” Moonbeam suggested. “Saves you buying one.”

“Yeah, but I’ll probably spend just as many caps getting the stupid thing fixed,” Thomas pointed out. “How about you give me the shotgun, at least for now?”

“Fine, I guess.” The shotgun hovered towards the man. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it. We should find somewhere to sleep.”

Moonbeam frowned. “Where? Feels kinda unfair that we sleep on the ground after spending the night at Tenpony.”

“That’s life, Moonbeam, full of unfairness. At the very least, we have a roof over our heads. We can lock the doors and barricade them. We’ll be safe,” the man said optimistically.

“I think I saw toilets in the back, too,” Moonbeam added.

“So we’ll stay here then.”

“Why this one?” Moonbeam asked. “Won’t the MAS one be better?”

“The Rangers already cleaned this place out. They have no reason to come back. The MAS building, though? They’re gonna go through there, if only to get those bodies,” Thomas pointed out.

“Come on, really? What are the odds of them walking in tomorrow?”

“My life has been nothing but a series of improbable occurrences,” Thomas said darkly. “After a while, you just accept that weird shit is gonna happen, no matter what.”

Moonbeam opened her mouth to argue when she remembered that she was about to argue with an alien. It didn’t get much weirder than that, and she’d heard a trader swear that they’d run into actual ghosts. She closed her mouth and kept silent.

“So, we’re gonna sleep in here tonight,” Thomas declared. “We should be safe, but I still think we should barricade the door. You can never be too careful,” he muttered.

“All right, Mister Paranoid, we’ll do things your way,” Moonbeam conceded. “We’ll sleep here so we don’t get attacked. Not that we will, but I don’t wanna argue when I know you’re not gonna be convinced,” she added in resignation.

“Just help me barricade the door, would you?” Thomas asked flatly, pointing at the mounds of robot pieces. “That way, we don’t need to worry about taking watch.”

Moonbeam awoke with a yelp, looking around the room in panic. After a few seconds, she calmed down. “Fucking…” Thomas’s paranoia had affected her worse than she had thought. Her dream had ended with the door being blown off its hinges and an alicorn-sized Steel Ranger walking in.

She looked at the man. His expression was a happy one. That made the mare angry. As she looked, he began to talk. “Yes… lower… oh Cass…”

Moonbeam wasn’t interested in who ‘Cass’ was or what Thomas was dreaming. “You fucking pervert,” she muttered. She knocked him on the back of the head with the edge of her hoof. “Wake up, you damn horndog!” she yelled.

“Ow!” Thomas rubbed his head and glared at Moonbeam. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Your paranoid crap gave me nightmares,” Moonbeam said angrily. “And then, when I wake up, you’re dreaming about sex!”

“What am I supposed to dream about, killing raiders?” Thomas asked back. “I’m a skilled killer, but I’m not a psychopath.”

“Yes, what you did to that slaver was perfectly normal,” she replied flatly. “Come on, let’s get out of here before your stupid prediction ends up right.”

Thomas ignored her and made his way towards the door. He pushed aside the mound of robot parts and opened the door. To his relief, there was nothing out there. No raiders, no Steel Rangers, no alicorns. “Looks safe.”

Moonbeam followed the man out. “Alright, back to Tenpony. Should be a few ponies I can talk to about trading.”

“You don’t want to stick with me?” Thomas asked.

“I only tagged along this time because I would have been bored waiting,” she pointed out. “I’m not leaving the city.”

“I guess that’s fair. I’d just rather not travel alone.”

“Then, I dunno, find a merc or something,” she suggested.

“Yeah, no thanks. I’m not trusting my life to someone who’s only there for the caps,” he explained. “Better to make them feel obligated.”

“Like you did with me?” Moonbeam asked flatly.

“I guess. Quid pro quo and all that.”

“Quid pro what?”

Thomas sighed. “It means ‘I scratch your back, you scratch mine’. Or something like that, anyway.”

“So you indebt them and make the price your continued well-being?”

“I’m from New Vegas,” he said with a chuckle. “If there’s one thing that city is good at, it’s putting people in debt. And I managed to do that to entire settlements,” Thomas boasted as he fastened his mask.

“Riiiiiiiight,” Moonbeam replied skeptically. “Well, come on. We should tell your employers that this failed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Thomas led the pair away from the warehouse. “Y’know, before we go, we really should at least see if the going on the ship really is a bad idea.”

Moonbeam grimaced. “I… I guess that makes sense. Just don’t take too long, okay?”

“We’ll just take a look, I promise.”

They made their way to the ship’s gangway. It was a rusted mess that didn’t look like it would support a god, let alone the man and his companion. The ship wasn’t in much better shape, looking like a rusted sieve. All the paint had flaked off, and it leaning over dangerously, half of the bridge submerged.

Moonbeam nudged the gangway with a hoof. “Yeah… I’m not walking on this thing.”

“Not enough caps in the world…” Thomas muttered. He looked around, making sure there was no-one watching. Then he pushed the gangway over the pier into the water. “Well, time to go.”

“Did you just…?”

“There was no way in hell I was gonna go on that thing. Never mind the radigators, I don’t want to drown. This isn’t the easiest stuff to swim in,” he said, gesturing to his duster and body armour. “It would have almost definitely been underwater, too.”

Moonbeam sighed. “Yeah, I get that. So, you’re still stuck here in Equestria for a while longer.”

“Don’t remind me,” Thomas muttered. “I mean, this place is okay, as far as post-apocalyptic hellholes go, but the Mojave is actually sorta civilised. The worst you gotta be worried about is waking up naked in an alley after getting mugged.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” the mare asked cheekily.

“Heh, yeah right. It’ll be a cold day in - ED-E?” Thomas asked, cutting himself off suddenly.

“Huh?” Moonbeam looked at what the man was staring at. “Oh, a Sprite-bot.”

“A what?”

“Sprite-bot, apparently those things were everywhere before the war,” she explained, watching as it drifted lazily through the air. “They make good target practice.”

“Huh.” Thomas took a closer look at it. While it definitely resembled ED-E, the Sprite-bot seemed to have two pairs of wings bolted to its rear. That, and it was blaring out some of the most annoying music he had ever heard. “Want me to shoot it?”

“Nah, it’s harmless.” Moonbeam pressed ahead.

As the pair approached the Sprite-bot, though, it fell silent. They both noticed it, and stared at it. “That can’t be good…”

Thomas’s hand rested on his revolver, ready to blast the robot out of the air. It didn’t seem anywhere near as armoured as ED-E, and he reckoned that the 45.70-Govt. round would be overkill.

There was more than half a minute of silence, spent staring at the Sprite-bot. Just as suddenly as the music stopped, it started up again, and the robot just drifted away.

“That…”

“We were being watched,” Thomas growled. “I remember seeing something about Eye-bots, back in the Mojave. They never went past the prototype stage before the war, and there was something about cameras…”

Moonbeam’s eyes went wide. “You think that thing had a camera in it?”

“You said they were around before the war. Why else, but to make sure no-one was thinking of supporting the other side?” he asked.

“If that thing had a camera, though… who was watching us?” Moonbeam asked, unnerved by the idea.

After the disturbing encounter with the Sprite-bot, they decided to push onwards to Tenpony with all haste. If they were being watched, then they both wanted to get to somewhere with some measure of privacy as soon as they could. As they walked, they couldn’t help but look down every alley and side street cautiously, on the lookout for any unwanted eyes.

“Oh shit,” Thomas muttered. “It’s those assholes again.”

“Hmm?” Moonbeam grunted, too busy looking the other way.

“Those Steel Rangers.”

“What!?” Moonbeam whipped around and gaped at the sight of the power-armoured ponies. “Oh, fuck me sideways…”

“Calm down,” the man whispered. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We don’t have anything that can punch through their armour, though,” she moaned, watching as they approached over the rubble.

“I don’t plan on killing them,” he replied. “Let’s just keep on walking, make them think they’ve got the advantage.”

As Moonbeam followed cautiously, he noticed the man’s left hand reach casually into his duster. “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s me they want,” he explained calmly, putting his hands together. “If things looks bad, though, you can run.”

“Stop!”

“I thought I told you Brotherhood wannabes to leave me alone!” Thomas shouted back at the Steel Rangers.

“You think we’d just let a savage get away with a Pip-Buck!?”

Thomas tilted his head when he realised the voice was familiar. “Did you forget my promise?”

“There are eight of us, and one of you!” Crusader Strawberry Shortcake yelled back. “Just give us what we want!”

“What, something with a completely different coding language, incompatible with everything you own? Yeah, real fucking smart,” Thomas relied snidely.

“Listen to me you minotaur shit,” the Crusader growled, stepping closer, “we are going to get what we want. There is nothing you can say or do to stop us.”

The man glanced at Moonbeam, who took that as a sign to back away. “You really believe that?”

“Initiate Wrench, relieve him of his Pip-Buck,” Shortcake growled.

“Really? You’re sending the new guy instead? How has no-one shot her in the back yet?” he asked the other Rangers as one with a minigun approached.

“Trust me, half the base is waiting for somepony else to do that,” the initiate muttered. “Look, just give us your Pip-Buck, we’ll let you go.”

“Even if I could, I don’t have any of the equipment to do that,” Thomas explained.

“Initiate, shoot him,” Shortcake ordered. “We’ll just take it from his corpse.”

As Initiate Wrench’s minigun spun up, Thomas’s right fist connected with his helmet. Crusader Shortcake and the rest of the Rangers could only watch in horror as the stallion’s head evaporated in a cloud of gore and shrapnel.

“One chance,” he said. “That’s all the warning you’ve got. Turn back, and you won’t have to explain why you have seven dead ponies to collect.”

“Y-you… his head!” Shortcake screeched, backing away from the body.

“Is my wrist computer really worth all this blood?” he asked. “Can you really justify that?”

“Y-y-you’re a monster,” Shortcake stammered.

“Really?” Thomas asked, stepping towards her. “I’m not the one threatening to murder strangers for any bit of tech I can get my hands on.”

Whoosh!

The man ducked to the left as a rocket sailed past him. “BIG MISTAKE!” he bellowed, turning to the other rangers.

As the miniguns the other rangers wore began to spin up, Thomas let loose the thing he had been holding in his left hand the entire time.

“Grenade!” one of the Rangers yelled as it soared towards them. Some of them ignored it, while the rest abandoned the idea of attacking to try and run.

“AAAAAAARGH!”

The Rangers were enveloped in a pulse of crackling energy, shutting down their armour’s spell matrix. “Hey, look. Tinned food,” Thomas commented, pointing at the immobile ponies.

Crusader Shortcake’s minigun began to spin up, but the retort of Moonbeam’s battle-saddle cut it short. “You bitch!” the Ranger screamed, glancing at the mangled ammo feed and power cords. She screamed as a bullet tore through her leg through a lightly-armoured area.

“I warned you. I told you to leave me alone, and you didn’t listen,” Thomas growled, holstering his revolver. “Do you have any idea who I am?” he asked.

“W-why the fuck should I care?” Shortcake managed to say through gritted teeth. “You’re just s-some Wasteland fuck.”

“I’m Courier Six. And I have a message for you. Leave. Me. Alone. Or I swear, I will hunt you bastards down, one by one, and wipe your organisation from the face of this world.”

“W-why should I be scared of you?”

Thomas growled. “Why? How about the fact that two holes in my head and being buried alive only made me angry?” Shortcake tried to take a step back.

“Y-you’re bluffing,” the mare said uneasily, trying to sound brave.

Realising that the mare needed something special, he decided to dig back to something he had used once. It had worked then, he was sure it would work now.

“I will cast down your Codex in flames and bathe in the boiling blood of all those who hold it dear,” he growled, putting his face right against her helmet. “And I will make sure you are there to watch every. Single. Moment.”

Thomas pulled back. “Or, you can leave me alone and never worry about me ever again. Your choice.”

He waited a few moments for an answer. When the mare instead toppled over, unconscious, he leaned back a little in shock. “Did not expect that to happen.”

“I’m amazed she didn’t shit herself,” Moonbeam said, stepping towards the unconscious ranger. She sniffed the air. “Oh, no, she did.”

“Well, that should do it, though. Shouldn’t have any more trouble from these idiots.”

“You fuckers!” one of the immobilised ponies scream. “You’ll regret this! No-one fucks with the Steel Rangers!”

“Oh really?” the Courier asked, walking towards the mare that had spoken. “Well, no-one messes with the Courier and lives.” He pulled out his revolver and put it at the base of her neck, where her armour was thin. “And you just did.”

As Thomas stepped away from the corpse, Moonbeam gaped at him. “You murdered that pony.”

“Proves I’m serious,” he said.

“It proves your fucking nuts,” she countered.

“I’m the Wild Card. Besides, who knows how many Wastelanders’ deaths she’s responsible for?” he asked, reloading his weapon.

“I…” Moonbeam struggled to find words, walking beside the man as they left the Rangers behind.

“I could’ve dismembered her,” Thomas pointed out. “Or hung her. This was merciful.”

“But what purpose did it serve?” the mare asked, struggling to understand his logic.

“A warning. A deterrent. Now they know what’ll happen if they cross me again,” he explained. “Only next time, I won’t leave any survivors.”

Author's Note

Thomas is nice. As long as you don't make him really angry.

Go check out my Pokémon crossover. It could use some loving.

Welcome to Dodge

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Welcome to Dodge

Goooooooood morning, everypony! DJ PON-3 here, with some news to keep you warm out there in the wastes.

Well, I’m sure you remember that strange dude I told you about? The one that looks like a minotaur? We finally have a name to put to the face, not that anyone’s ever seen it. Courier Six. I’ve got no idea why he calls himself that, or what it means. But, if you guys run into any other Couriers, let me know. Might be able to set up a reunion, the DJ said with a chuckle.

In other news, things have been really loud in the vicinity of Dodge the last few days. After some unknown force decided to push the residents out, the Steel Rangers in the area have been desperately trying to reclaim the area. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, Rangers helping us normal wastelanders? It doesn’t add up. But look at it this way: the only reason they’re doing it is because whoever forced out the residents have some tech they want. But hey, if they manage to win, good on them. Just as long as they let the townsfolk back in. Either way, stay away from the area. No telling just how trigger-happy both sides are.

Today’s weather is cloudy with a slight chance of rain. Now, to take you away, here’s Sweetie Belle with Sunshine. Because we can all hope, right?

The DJ’s voice was replaced by slow, gentle music and a mare singing. “I miss Mr. New Vegas,” Thomas muttered, turning his Pip-Boy’s radio off.

“Hey! Turn it back on!” He turned to see a brown earth pony glaring at him.

“Shut up, Bingo,” another pony said. Thomas glanced at the dull red unicorn. “It’s just the same ten songs over and over again.”

“But Sunshine is my favourite,” Bingo muttered, the stallion sighing.

“I’ll turn it back on later,” the man said. “For now, let’s keep going.”

“Really?” the unicorn asked. “Didn’t ya hear what he said?”

“Yeah, but I don’t exactly got a choice,” Thomas drawled. For some reason, he found it easier to talk like this around them. “Y’see, my payment depends on whether or not I get this thing my employers want. At the very least, they want to know that I couldn’t find it.”

“What are ya looking for again?” the unicorn asked. “Are ya sure ya couldn’t find it somewhere else?”

“Sorry, Bargain,” the man said. “Top secret stuff.”

“Top secret stuff? What are ya, a Ministry Mare?” Bargain asked him, a note of amusement in his voice.

“Are we really gonna have this conversation again?”

“Are you gonna tell us anything?”

“No.”

“Then I guess we’re done talking.”

There wasn’t much else they could really do, though. The walk to Dodge, as it was now known, was a long one, about three weeks. It reminded Thomas of his trek to Zion with Happy Trails and his meeting with the Burned Man. He just hoped that this world didn’t decide to have something similar waiting for him.

There wasn’t much to look at or do, either. All around them was dirt, rocks and dead or dying vegetation. He’d learnt the hard way not to let a bloatsprite get too close, after it had nearly taken a finger. Apart from that mishap, though, the trip had been peaceful. Bingo and Bargain didn’t have a pack brahmin, but took turns pulling the cart filled with their wares. At first, this struck Thomas as odd. After a while, though, he could see the logic.

“How much further is it, anyways?”

“Not too much farther, maybe twenty minutes,” Bargain answered casually.

“Hmm,” Thomas grunted in response.

The next fifteen minutes passed by in tense silence. Both stallions looked around nervously as they tried to find whoever was responsible for evicting the townsfolk, while Thomas just stared at the horizon. “Something’s not right,” he muttered.

Bingo unhitched himself so he could use his pistol more efficiently. “I know what ya mean, it shouldn’t be this quiet.”

“Well... we should be able to fight off most things,” Bargain said with a nod towards Thomas. “We’ve got Courier Six there.”

Thomas rolled his eyes under his mask. He really just preferred the shorter title, and he had no idea how the DJ had managed to get the longer one in the first place. “Just keep lookin’.”

All three of them spun around when they heard what sounded like hoofsteps. “We’re not alone, are we?” Bingo said around his gun.

“Probably not... just keep a lookout for - ”

There was a loud pew! as a pink beam burned its way through the unicorn’s ratty leather barding. As Bargain dropped, Thomas jumped behind the cart, dragging Bingo by his tail. “It’s fucking Zion all over again!” the man shouted.

“Bargain!” Bingo shouted around his gun, struggling against the man’s grip.

“Calm down, or you’ll get yourself killed as well!”

“You killed him! You bastards killed him!”

Thomas could only watch as Bingo slipped out of his grip and jumped into the open, firing his pistol in unbridled rage, managing to take one of the attackers down with a lucky shot. The lasers that struck did nothing to deter him until a stray beam hit him in the jaw, sending his pistol to the ground. The stallion didn’t even have a chance to glance at it before a dozen more beams perforated him.

The man stared at the broken, bleeding pony for a few moments. “You fuckers want me!? Come and get me!” Thomas screamed at the top of his lungs, ignoring the lasers as he rose up from cover, SMG in hand. He didn’t even bother to fire in bursts, instead holding down the trigger and pointing the gun in the general direction of an attacker.

The attackers, surprised by the sudden onslaught, ducked behind their own cover. What followed were a few incredibly tense moments as both sides waited for the other to act first. Thomas used the opportunity to switch to a better weapon and run through what he knew about his attackers.

They were all wearing armour that was either the same as or incredibly similar to the ponies that had attacked him in Manehattan. That, the laser weapons and their horns meant that the only realistic possibility was that they were from the same group. But why were all eight of them unicorns?

He didn’t have much chance to think any further when a laser beam left an ugly melted spot on his helmet. “Jesus!” he shouted, ducking down further. If these laser weapons were like anything he knew from his Wasteland, all that had to happen was for the shooter to get lucky and he’d be a pile of ash just waiting to get blown away. Luckily, he had something like that of his own.

Rising from cover he aimed his magical shotgun, the Assistant, at the nearest unicorn. Moonbeam had decided that the magical energy weapon would be better in his hands, and he was glad he hadn’t argued. He watched with grim satisfaction as a unicorn let out an anguished scream that turned to gurgling as the plasma melted her into a glowing green puddle.

“He has plasma!” he heard one of the unicorns yell as he ducked back down.

“Keep firing!” He was forced back down when the beams focused on him again. He had to rethink his strategy. The cart wasn’t going to last much longer under the barrage, and he knew his armour was capable of taking a few shots before he had to worry about disintegration. All he had to do was get close enough to one of them to make firing too risky…

Firing a shot at the largest cluster of unicorns, he charged the nearest one, a stallion with a pink coat and white mane. The face-concealing helmet did nothing to muffle his scream as Thomas pushed him over before firing point-blank into his barrel, the emerald fire melting his armour like ice.

Before the other unicorns could react he fired at them again, some of them screaming when the plasma pellets struck. Every second he would fire, suppressing them as he stepped closer. By the time he had run out of ammo, he was within punching range.

The unicorns could only scream and try desperately to hit the man as Thomas’s Displacer Glove removed body parts and pulped flesh. He threw dirt at their faces, kicked their legs out from under them, even threw a corpse at another pony to distract them. Every dirty tactic he could think of, he used it against them.

Eventually, he stood alone, covered in blood that wasn’t his. Around him were the broken and mangled bodies of six unicorns, each one either missing limbs or with exposed organs. As the man panted, he looked around. He was sure there had been another. So where were they…?

The man fell with a yelp something burned through his pants, leaving a horrible wound in his leg. “All I need to do is drag your corpse back to HQ and they’ll reward me,” a cultured female voice said, poking him in the back with her rifle.

Thomas raised his hands and turned around slowly, to avoid aggravating his injured leg. The mare in question was wearing armour identical to her dead comrades, but her golden mane and alabaster coat were clearly visible. “Won’t you get a bigger reward if I’m alive?”

The mare snorted. “After what you did to my friends?” she asked harshly, jabbing him in the gut.

“You’re angry, I get that,” Thomas replied, waiting for the right moment.

“Damn right I’m fuckin’ angry!” the mare yelled, her accent slipping into something a bit more savage. “I’m gonna rip out ya spine and flog ya withit! Now take off that fuckin’ mask so I can sees ya face!”

“How about you go fuck yourself with that rifle?” Thomas asked back. He carefully lowered his hands, making sure to perform the action as slow as he possibly could. If he got it right, he would be able to get a shot off with his pistol before she could react.

“Hey! Keep them claws where I can see’em!” she yelled, jabbing him again. “Try anything funny and I’ll shoot ya dick off!” She lowered her rifle, aiming it right at his crotch to show she was serious. That made him stop, and made her smirk. “That’s what I thought. All yous are the same, one hint that I’m gonna hurt you down there and - ”

Thomas leapt back when something struck the mare in the jaw, sending her tumbling and her rifle clattering to the ground. Whatever it was had left her jaw hanging onto the rest of her head by the muscle alone, a grotesque sight as she let out a wordless moan. Mercifully she was struck again, this time the projectile killing her.

“Thank Celestia we found you!” Thomas turned to see three other ponies approaching him. Two of them were in leather barding, one levitating a rifle in their magic. The third was wearing the power armour that he knew belonged to the Steel Rangers. “Wouldn’t be good if Courier Six got killed.”

“As much as I appreciate the help,” he said, limping over to them, “this is the strangest rescue party I’ve seen.”

“You mean the Ranger?” the unicorn asked, flicking his red mane out of his eyes. Under his barding Thomas could see that he had a brown, almost dirt-coloured coat.

“The Steel Rangers in the area and the residents of Dodge have a long-standing agreement,” the Ranger explained.

“We hand over anything interesting we salvage, they stop raiders and wildlife from attacking the town,” the third pony elaborated. The dark brown mane wasn’t very odd, but Thomas was a little surprised to see a set of dirty yellow wings on his sides.

Thomas decided to limp closer. “Well, again, thanks. I don’t suppose you know anything about what happened to Dodge?”

The Ranger snorted. “We lost three dozen trying to hold them back,” she said sadly. “We had to retreat to one of the old farms outside the town. For some reason, they seem content to let us rot.”

Thomas frowned under his mask. “Great. I need access to one of the warehouses in the town. Guess that won’t be happening.”

The pegasus laughed. “Don’t count on it. They pushed us out, but they ain’t gonna keep us out.”

“Dodge survived the war, we’ll survive this,” the unicorn added proudly.

“That’s enough, you two,” the Ranger said commandingly before turning to Thomas. “Think you can walk?”

“I’ll be a bit slow, but I can manage,” the man replied.

“Good. Hitch me up to that wagon, and I’ll pull it. Pit, Bee, help load the bodies into it. Grab their rifles too.”

As the unicorn and pegasus did that, Thomas turned to the Ranger. “The two I was with, Bargain and Bingo, what’re you gonna do with them?”

“If the farm’s owner doesn’t mind, we can give them a burial. Failing that, we’ll burn all the bodies,” she explained.

“I guess that makes sense.” Thomas limped alongside her and quickly hitched her up before collecting the Assistant.

“Thanks. Busy, get up there and make sure we’re not walking into an ambush,” she commanded. The pegasus nodded and briefly took flight before landing again moments later.

“Unless they found a stockpile of Stealth-Bucks, I’d say we’re clear.”

“Then let’s move.” Their small procession moved across the dusty ground, each member silent as they scanned the area.

The pain in Thomas’s leg made it hard to keep track of time, but before long they found themselves at a large fenced off property. To one side was a large farmhouse, and off in the distance was what looked like a warehouse. Beyond that were trees. More trees than he had ever seen in one place. Admittedly, most of them were shrivelled black things, but it was something.

“Welcome to Cherry Hill Ranch,” the Ranger said as they walked through the gate.

Under Contract

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Under Contract

“I never got your name,” Thomas said calmly, wiping away the blood caking his clothes as a pony treated his leg.

The Steel Ranger stared at him. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said cautiously

“What, because of those assholes in Manehattan?” the man asked.

“If the reports they sent are true, you murdered an Initiate while she was unable to fight back,” the Ranger replied. “As the branch in Manehattan is one of the most influential, most of our other branches have you designated as K.O.S.”

“K.O.S?”

“Kill On Sight,” she explained. “The only reason we haven’t done the same yet is that we know the Manehattanites are a bunch of self-righteous morons.”

“Huh. The only reason I killed that one was to prove a point. Guess I should have realised it would backfire,” Thomas conceded. “Still, when people keep threatening to kill me every time I run into them, I’m gonna retaliate.”

“The Elder here thought that was the case, but the report only mentioned that you attacked them. Good to know you had some justification,” the Ranger said. “Still, not justification enough.”

“You won’t kill me,” Thomas stated, smirking under his mask. “And your Elder won’t allow anyone else to either.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You need me,” he said. “I can fight. The locals? They probably know how to handle themselves against raiders or wildlife,” he conceded. “But against another fighting force, outgunned and outnumbered? They don’t have a chance. No offense,” he added to the pony tightening his bandages.

“None taken, you’re completely right,” the mare admitted.

“And you don’t have enough Rangers, or enough power armour for all of them.”

The Ranger sighed angrily. “You’re completely right. We had to leave a lot of our best gear behind in the attack. We don’t have enough armour or guns to go around, our ammo stockpiles are low, and we need every edge we can get.” She stared at him. “Fine. You’ve bought yourself some time. I guess if you help us reclaim Dodge the Elder will let you go.”

“So I’m a prisoner now?” Thomas asked. “Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Not a prisoner,” the Ranger said hastily. “More like… under contract.”

“Merc work?” the man asked. When the armoured pony nodded, he nodded back. “Okay, that I can live with.”

“Done,” the pony doing his bandages said, stepping away.

“Thanks,” he said, digging into his duster as he stood up. “This should cover it.” The mare’s eyes went wide at the small pile of bottlecaps.

“Th-thanks!”

As the mare rushed out to grab something to hold his payment, Thomas and the Ranger stepped outside of the tent being used as a general surgery. “How bad is the situation?”

The Ranger turned to him. “Why should I tell you?” she asked warily, leading him through the small collection of campfires and mats.

“You want my help, right?” he asked. “Then I’m going to need a bit more information. Surely you’ve been keeping an eye on those assholes, right?”

She sighed. “From what we’ve managed to discover, most if not all of them seem to be unicorns. Energy weapons seem to be the norm, mostly laser. There was some plasma in the initial attack, but we haven’t seen any since. Limited numbers is my guess,” she added with a shrug. “As for their armour, it appears to be a variant of power armour, but unlike anything we have records of. For all we know, they manufacture it themselves, though where is anyone’s guess.”

She pushed open the door to the farmhouse before continuing. “If I had to guess, I’d say they attacked Dodge to get at the Ministry warehouses. Lots of things in there we can’t risk letting somepony like Red Eye getting.”

“Red Eye,” Thomas growled quietly as he was led into a small office.

“Have you been living under a rock?” the Ranger asked incredulously, mistaking his tone for confusion. “The Slaver King of Fillydelphia?”

“I know who he is,” he growled. “I’ve heard enough. And I swear, if I ever meet him I will rip off his face.”

“O… kay then?” she replied cautiously, his reaction catching her off guard. “Anyway, this is the Elder’s office. Temporary office, anyway.”

“Right,” Thomas said, taking a moment to compose himself. “So, where is he? Or she,” he added hastily.

The Ranger walked behind the desk and removed her helmet, revealing a soft pink coat and a cropped, cherry-red mane with brighter highlights. Her left eye glowed blue, while her right was a dull green. “I am Elder Cherry Blossom,” she stated calmly. “I am in charge of the the Steel Rangers in the region . And you, Courier Six, are going to help us reclaim Dodge.” Her helmet hit the wood with a solid thunk.

Thomas blinked. “This was your plan, wasn’t it?” he asked. “To see how I would act around you.”

“The best way to see what somepony is like is to be around them,” Cherry Blossom explained with a small smile. “And you seem like a decent enough stallion. Or whatever you’re called.”

“Man.”

“I’m not sure I can trust you,” she continued, “but I am willing to take the risk. You were right, we need your help.”

“The only reason I’m willing to help is because I need to get into one of the warehouses,” Thomas explained.

“Help us reclaim Dodge and you can take whatever you want,” she offered. “We can write it off as lost in the attack.”

Thomas smirked under his mask. It was clear this mare was desperate. She had said that the Rangers were relied upon to protect the town. The fact that they had failed was clearly weighing heavily on her, and she wanted to make things right.

“Ma’am, you have a deal,” he said, putting his hand out in front of him.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed as she leaned over the desk, grabbing his hand with both forehooves and shaking it vigorously. The power armour-augmented hoofshake left his entire arm numb, something she noticed. “Sorry,” she said as he rubbed his arm to get the feeling back. “It’s just nice to have something go right for a change.”

“Just… don’t tear my arm off, okay?” he asked. “Not gonna be much good without it.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling at him gently. “Now, follow me,” she ordered, leaving the room.

“Where are we going?”he asked as he followed.

“I have a meeting with several of my senior Paladins and Scribes about the situation,” Elder Cherry Blossom explained. “Since you’re helping us now, it only feels right that you get to join. What’s more, you have some experience fighting them yourself, if what I saw a few hours ago is any proof.”

“They’re a bunch of fanatic assholes, not the first time I’ve seen folk like that. And if this world keeps its record going…” he muttered to himself.

“Anyway,” the Elder said, deciding not to ask whatever he meant by ‘record’, “here we are.” She opened the door, revealing a large room with a large table. Around it were several robed ponies and two in armour, who turned and began to prepare their weapons to fire.

“Stand down!” Cherry Blossom yelled. “He is working with us, and he only attacked the Manehattan Rangers because they attacked him first.”

“Sorry,” one of the armoured Rangers said, his missile launcher ejecting the missile back into the loading mechanism. “I’m Paladin Jacket Potato, and this is Paladin Potato Bake.”

“Nice to meet you,” Potato Bake said, nodding at Thomas as his miniguns spun down. “Sorry about that, we’re all on edge.”

“No problem,” Thomas replied calmly. “You two brothers? Your voices sound the same.”

Jacket Potato laughed. “Yeah, we are. Not that hard to figure out, especially with the armour off.”

Cherry Blossom cleared her throat loudly. “If we could get on with why I called you here…?”

“Right,” Potato Bake said, nudging his brother out of the way. “Apart from the initial attack on Dodge, we haven’t seen any of them approach the farm. “

“None?”

“None,” Jacket Potato repeated.

“The entire time, they haven’t sent any scouts or raiding parties or anyone to harass you?” Thomas asked in disbelief. “And that doesn’t strike you as odd?”

“Oh it does,” the Elder replied. “Those seven that attacked you? First time we’ve seen any of those horned bastards outside the town that wasn’t part of one of their patrols.”

“I guess I’m Kill On Sight for them as well,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea who’s in charge?”

“We’re still working on that,” a robed unicorn said. “The only thing we can say with any certainty is that they are not Unity cultists. Otherwise we’d be dealing with alicorns as well.”

“Hooray for small mercies,” one of the Paladins muttered, Thomas couldn’t tell which. “Who’s in charge doesn’t really matter. What I’m more interested in is their tech.”

“Of course you are.” Thomas muttered.

The pony glared at him. “I mean that they appear to have power armour of their own. All our armour is hand-me-downs and whatever we can scavenge from old stockpiles.”

“Don’t forget those magical energy weapons,” one of the Scribes butted in. “It turns out that they have an internal battery that is recharged by a small spell talisman in the armour. But we should be able to modify them to take spark batteries.”

“That’s our weapon shortage figured out,” the second Paladin said. “At least for now. But I’m not putting any of our Rangers in their armour. No telling what surprises they might have.”

“We haven’t found anything,” a different Scribe said, “but it wouldn’t surprise us. The spell matrix is a lot more advanced than anything we use.”

“How tough is it?”

“Not much tougher than sheet metal, without the matrix. With it, large calibre rounds and FMJs are our best bet.”

“What weapons do you have, anyway?” Thomas asked.

“Most of our armaments consists of miniguns,” Jacket Potato said. “We also managed to bring along a few missile launchers and grenade machine guns, and for some reason Knight Close had a Balefire Egg Launcher rigged up to his saddle.”

“We are not letting him use that,” Potato Bake said flatly. “The collateral damage will be intolerable.”

“And we only have the one Balefire Egg anyway. All the rest, we had to leave behind.”

Thomas didn’t know what a Balefire Egg was, but he did know that balefire weapons were used instead of nuclear weapons in this world. “Okay, so no weapons of mass destruction,” he muttered.

“Until we have a better idea of their fortifications, we can’t even launch an attack. We’re stretched thin enough as it is,” one of the brothers said.

“Unless we know we can wipe them out in a single attack, we can’t do anything,” the other said.

The elder looked between the two Paladins. “Great,” she sighed. “So we’re stuck here until we can get more information.”

“So, send out a scouting party or two,” Thomas suggested.

“Do you really think we haven’t tried?” Potato Bake asked. “We can only get so close to Dodge before we get shot at. The civilian volunteers aren’t having much better luck.”

“You don’t have binoculars?” Thomas asked incredulously.

“In the evacuation, we barely had time to grab what we needed,” one of the Scribes said. “We’re low on ammo, food and medical supplies.”

“Those merchants you were with? We were about ready to shower them with caps,” Cherry Blossom said sadly. “Now, though…”

Thomas sighed. “Look, I’ve got some experience with performing recon. Learned from a professional. That, and I know ways to go unseen and unheard. You need information about their fortifications, right?”

“Are you volunteering?” the Elder asked.

“Sure. We’ll call it the first part of my contract with you,” he suggested. “I’m not going alone, though. I’ll need someone who knows their way around.”

“How did I get roped into this?”

“Shut up, you’ll give us away,” Thomas muttered back.

He and the pegasus Busy Bee, who had been volunteered to perform recon, kept close to the boulder they had walked to.

“Yeah, like they’re gonna hear us from half a mile away,” the pegasus muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Just get ready to fly back to the farm if you need to,” the man replied, looking down the scope of his sniper rifle. “Their patrols will be too busy focusing on me if they find us.”

As the pair waited for something to happen, Thomas decided to ask something that had been puzzling him for a while. “You’re a pegasus, right?”

“And?” he asked, hostility filling the pony’s tone.

“I just heard stories about how most pegasuses live above the clouds,” the man clarified. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

The stallion snorted. “I’m a Wasteland pegasus. We weren’t all lucky enough to get up there before they closed the cloud barrier. My grandparents were in a Stable, though, Stable 38. Something to do with altering plants to grow without pollination or something.”

Thomas’s focus on Dodge wavered momentarily as he had a few flashbacks to the verdant claustrophobic nightmare that had been Vault 22. “Did anything bad happen in there?” he asked, fighting back the images of fungus-covered corpses rising up to kill.

“What? No, they just abandoned the place after the reactor died. Hell, it’s why Dodge is actually a place where ponies live. Everypony moved in there and fixed the place up,” the pony explained airily. “The Rangers moved in about five years after that.”

Thomas nodded slightly. “And you were born there… twenty years ago? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four,” Bee corrected. “How’d you guess that?”

“Luck. Hmmm,” he muttered, “that’s strange.”

“What is it?”

“Tell me what you see,” the man said, passing the rifle to the pony.

The stallion looked through the scope for a few seconds before talking. “Three of those unicorns, one of them pulling a cart. So?”

“Didn’t the Rangers say they only left the town to patrol the area?”

Busy Bee blinked. “Huh,” he responded as he lowered the rifle. “That is strange. What do you think’s in the cart?”

“Something worth investigating,” Thomas muttered. “You think we should take a look?”

Busy Bee looked conflicted. While a part of him did agree with the Courier, that something like this had to be looked at, he didn’t want to put himself too far into harm’s way. He certainly didn’t want to end up like those traders had. “Stay here. I’ll get a few Rangers, see what we can do then.”

“By the time you get back it’ll be too late,” the man pointed out. “We either move now or lose the opportunity.”

Busy Bee let out a whine. “This is a bad idea…”

“It could be an even worse one to let them get away with whatever the hell they’re moving.” He pulled his rifle out of the pony’s grip and looked down the sights. “Your call. I can make the shot, take out the one pulling it.”

Bee glanced around as he tried to think of the best course of action. “Do it,” he said eventually.

“Taking the shot,” Thomas muttered before pulling the trigger. “Right in the neck,” he boasted as the rifle ejected the spent bullet. He kept quiet as he pulled trigger twice more, lowering the gun when he was done. “They’re all down. Come on, before more of them show up.”

Thomas and Busy Bee ran as fast as they dared towards the now-abandoned cart. “What do you think’s in there?” the stallion asked.

“No idea,” Thomas panted. “Weapons, ammo, food. Hell, maybe even be something that’ll give us an edge.”

“I hope so, we need it.”

Before long, the pair had made it. “Looks clear.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Thomas muttered, looking around nervously. “What’s in there?”

“Gimme a sec,” Bee muttered, ripping off the thin cloth cover. “Uhh…”

“What is it?” the man asked.

“It’s a unicorn. A mare.”

“What?” Thomas turned away from his vigil for a moment. “You sure?”

“Yeah, stallions don’t look this pretty.” the pegasus replied. “Usually.”

“Anything else in there?”

“A battle saddle, a few ammo boxes, nothing much.” Busy Bee turned to face Thomas. “Why the hell are they moving this mare like this?” he asked.

“No idea. Reckon you can pull it back to the farm?” Thomas asked back.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.” Busy Bee got to unhitching the dead unicorn. As he shoved the corpse out of the way, he turned to the man again. “Hitch me up, then jump in.”

“You sure you can manage?” the man asked as he quickly did up the straps.

“Yeah, just get ready to shoot if you have to,” the pegasus said as the man hopped in.

As they left the scene, Thomas glanced at their cargo. He looked again when he realised he knew who he was looking at. “Ah shit.”

“What is it!?” Bee asked panickedly. “They here already!?” The pegasus picked up his pace.

“No, it’s just - woah!” The man was interrupted when the cart went over a large hole, jostling the cargo and knocking the mare awake.

Moonbeam blinked a few times as she tried to remember what had happened. When she looked up, it was to see the familiar form of the Courier. “Oh you’re fucking with me.”

“Moonbeam?”

“I fucking hate you,” she muttered.

Author's Note

Look, it's Thomas's favourite gun-horse!

Diplomatic Relations

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Diplomatic Relations

The mare glared at the man as Busy Bee pulled the cart back to Cherry Hill Ranch.

“I hate you.”

“Really?” Thomas asked flatly, wincing a little as he adjusted his seat. “And I just thought you enjoyed punching me in the balls.”

“It’s because of you that I’m out here in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowhere!”

The man snorted in amusement. “I’ll have to remember that one. And how is it my fault?” he asked.

“Those unicorn fucks took me because they thought I knew where you went!” Moonbeam yelled.

“And you didn’t say anything?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” the mare replied hesitantly. “I mean, it’s not like it was a secret or anything.”

“So if you told them, why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” Moonbeam groaned in exasperation.

“We’re nearly there!” Busy Bee panted.

“Good.” Thomas turned back to Moonbeam. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got caught up in this.” When she just scowled at him, he sighed. “Well, I tried.”

“Everypony at the Library either thinks I’m dead, enslaved or brainwashed by Unity,” she pointed out. “Those bastards got me at least ten days ago, and - ”

“Ten days?” he questioned, interrupting her. “It took two whole weeks to get here.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she asked back harshly. She barely glanced at the sign to the old farm as they passed beneath it. “Look, I just want to get back to Manehattan and let everypony know I’m not dead or worse, okay?”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.” Moonbeam turned to the voice and let out a scream as she scooted as far away as she could. “Ma’am?” the Ranger asked.

“Courier?” the mare hissed. “What is that Ranger doing here?”

“He’s helping.”

“Helping with what!?” she asked, looking at the Ranger fearfully as the armoured pony tilted his head in confusion.

“Taking back Dodge.”

Moonbeam blinked. “Wait wait wait. Rangers are helping wastelanders?” she asked, sounding incredibly confused. “What the fuck?”

“Most of us were raised in the town,” the closest Ranger explained, stepping closer now that he was sure that Moonbeam wasn’t going to have a panic attack. “We even give ponies who want to join a fair chance.”

Moonbeam blinked again. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Those unicorns that abducted you have taken over the town. I need to get in, the Rangers want to retake the town…” Thomas shrugged as he jumped out. “One thing led to another.”

“I… I give up,” Moonbeam muttered, throwing her forehooves into the air. “You don’t make any sense. This whole situation doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, it makes sense. You just need to look at it differently.”

Moonbeam shot a glare at the man. “How about you shut up?”

“What’s all the noise?” Thomas turned around and saw another Ranger in full armour approach them.

“Hello, Elder.”

“I sent you two out on recon. Why have you come back with a cart and a mare?” the pony asked.

“It was all his idea!” Busy Bee shouted, pointing a hoof at the Courier.

“I saw three of them pulling this and thought there might be something valuable,” the man explained in his defense.

“So where did she come from?” the power armoured pony asked. “And who are you, anyway?”

“I-I’m Moonbeam, from Manehattan,” Moonbeam said uneasily. Then she pointed at Thomas. “And it’s his fault I’m here.”

Under his mask, Thomas rolled his eyes. “No, it’s those unicorns in their shiny armour that took you. I rescued you just now.”

“The only reason they took me is because they knew I spent time with you,” Moonbeam said angrily. “So it is your fault.”

“Isn’t it your fault for being around me?” the man asked back.

“Excuse me, but does this really matter?” the Elder asked, looking at the pair in annoyance. Then she focused at Moonbeam. “You’re here now, so I advise that you cease your complaining and get out of that wagon so you can lend a hoof.”

Moonbeam gaped at the Ranger for a moment. “I-I’m sorry, but who are you to think you can boss me around?”

“I’m Elder Cherry Blossom and these ponies are under my protection. So, shut up and do as you’re told. We do not have time for insubordination or whining. I have a town to liberate,” the elder said pointedly. “Of course, we could just leave you in there and take you back to the ponies that abducted you.”

“No! No!” The threat worked as desired, making Moonbeam jump out of the cart so fast she landed on her face. “Ow...”

“Busy Bee, take that down near one of the sheds,” the Elder instructed the pegasus. “We’ll find something to do with it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey, wait!” Moonbeam yelled as she righted herself. “All my stuff is in there!”

“Then I suppose you had best remove it,” Cherry Blossom told her rather blandly.

“What crawled up your tailhole and died?” the unicorn asked angrily as she retrieved her belongings.

“Maybe the fact that the town my Rangers and I are meant to protect was taken by those marauding assholes? Or that we lost three dozen, making it harder to take Dodge back? Or that the trust I had gained is being chipped away day by day?” She snorted. “And I thought the Manehattan chapter were stupid.”

“I’m sorry, okay, but it’s not a reason to act like a massive bitch,” Moonbeam retorted, saying the exact wrong thing. Thomas bowed his head in frustration at the mare’s idiocy.

“It’s plenty of reason, you little shit!” Cherry Blossom yelled, finally snapping. “I suggest you shut up before I get a pair of powerhooves and skullfuck you with them!”

“Moonbeam, you fucking idiot,” Thomas said as he picked Moonbeam up around the barrel. He ignored the mare’s protests as he put a hand over her mouth before she could say anything else that might get her shot. “Never piss off someone in power armour.”

Though the mare couldn’t answer, she still turned to look up at him in disbelief.

“Get her out of here before I decide to shoot her,” the Elder growled.

“Gladly.”

The man proceeded to carry Moonbeam away from the enraged Elder before depositing her on the ground. He then smacked her on the back of the head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck was that for!?” she shouted.

“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to be target practice,” Thomas said loudly. “I’ll just take you back to the Elder and - ”

“No!”

“Then shut the fuck up and listen.” He kneeled down so they were face-to-face. “You need to not antagonise these folks. They’ve lost practically everything and the last thing they want or need to hear is your complaining. You still have a home to go back to. They don’t have a clue what’s going on in the town. There might not be anything left for them to go back to, so try and show some fucking empathy, alright?”

Moonbeam took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just… those assholes who took me kept going on about torturing me. I don’t think they were serious, but…”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make sure that those assholes aren’t gonna bother anyone every again.” Thomas stood up and looked around. “Stay here, I’ll get your stuff. I don’t think the Elder wants to see you right now.”

“You’ve kicked a radwasp nest, Courier,” Elder Cherry Blossom said angrily as he walked back towards her.

Thomas couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I managed to set it on fire before I even got here,” the man retorted. “Those unicorn pricks have been after me because I managed to do… something in Manehattan,” he said, avoiding giving any details.

“If I’d known you were going to pull a stunt like that I wouldn’t have let you leave.”

“And my friend would be in there, with those fuckers doing god-knows-what,” Thomas replied. “This way, I know she’s safe and I can work towards getting her home.”

“Um…” They both turned to see Moonbeam standing there, looking awkward. “I wanted to apologise.”

“Oh?” The Elder tilted her head in confusion.

“Yeah. I just… I got abducted, and threatened with rape and - ”

“They threatened to rape you?” Thomas asked in a growl. “They threatened to rape you!?”

“I… don’t think they were serious?” Moonbeam said, backing away as the man radiated pure fury. “They just wanted me to talk. Even after I told them everything - ”

“They didn’t do anything, did they?”

“What!? No!” Moonbeam yelled. “All they did was tie me up, knock me out and drag me out here. Can we get back to what I wanted to say at first?” she asked timidly.

“Right. You two kiss and make up, I’ll go find some food.” The man walked away as both mares looked at him in shock and disgust.

Thomas had managed to find a pack of playing cards, and had decided to kill some time with a game of solitaire. While the cards were practically the same, the Jack, Queen and King were absent, instead replaced by the Baron, Countess and Duke. Apart from the minor confusion, though, nothing significant happened for several hours.

He looked up when a power armoured pony poked their head in and called out to him. “What is it?” he asked distractedly, turning back to his cards.

“One of the unicorns is here,” the earth pony said uneasily. “Making demands.”

“What? Oh, I need to see this…” Thomas put his cards down and followed, deciding that this a much better way to pass the time.

As he stepped outside the farmhouse, he saw the helmetless Elder stomp past furiously. “If they think they can come here after kicking us out of our homes, they have another thing coming,” Cherry muttered.

“What do you think they want?” Thomas asked as he joined her.

The mare snorted. “The obvious answer is the cart you stole. But we don’t know if they know you’re here. Try and stay out of sight, at least until they’re finished talking.”

“All right then.” Thomas immediately peeled away to the left, digging into his duster’s interior pockets.

“What do you want?” It was clear from her tone that she wanted nothing more than to see this pony die.

The unicorn, in his strange power armour, snorted disdainfully. “That’s hardly any way to speak to someone who came here peacefully,” he said haughtily.

“Cut to the chase. I’m a busy mare.” It took all of Cherry Blossom’s willpower to not leap forwards and throttle the stallion, just to wipe that smug expression off his face. The fact that he was being flanked by two more armed unicorns helped stay her hooves.

“Fine. We suspect that you have something of ours. A cart.”

“Why would we steal a cart?” the Elder asked, doing a good job of playing dumb.

“It’s not about the cart, but what’s inside it,” the unicorn elaborated. “All that matters is that is incredibly valuable, moreso than you could possible imagine.”

“You still haven’t explained why you think we have it,” she replied flatly.

“Apart from the fact that you are the closest possible group? How about the tracks? The ones we are currently standing on?” the stallion pointed out.

“You have no proof that the tracks are from your missing cart,” Blossom responded. “Do you have any more ‘evidence’?” By now a group of refugees and Rangers had gathered, curious to see what was going on.

“I suggest you tell your lackeys to stay back, Elder,” the stallion warned, the title sounding like an insult. “My fellows aren’t the most… lenient. They get too close, and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

“Answer my question.”

“Fine. There was a tracking beacon on the cart. Unless somepony here decided to pick up a spell talisman smaller than my hoof out there a few hours ago and bring it here, then you have our property.” The stallion smiled menacingly. “Has that refreshed your memory?”

“Suppose we have your cart,” the Elder said, stalling for time. “What’s so important about what’s inside it?”

“I am not at liberty to say. But if we don’t see our property within the next ten minutes, we will raze this pathetic little camp to the ground, and lobotomise the survivors,” the stallion growled threateningly.

“Lobotomised?” she asked, not liking what she was hearing.

“You don’t think we just executed everypony that didn’t get away, did you?” he asked. “No, we’re not just going to throw away perfectly good muscle. We aren’t raiders, after all.”

Elder Cherry Blossom turned tail and walked away.

“We’ll be waiting,” the unicorn said.

The Elder made her way back to the farmhouse, doing her best to keep her steps steady. The moment she walked in, though, she jumped. “He’s lying,” Thomas said as the door swung close.

“How do you know?” she asked sharply. “And how did you get in before me?”

“I spend a lot of time around gamblers. I know when someone’s bluffing, hiding something good, hiding something bad, or is planning on betraying you. As for how I beat you,” he held up his Pip-Boy and detached something from it, “I have my ways.”

“You said he was lying?” she asked.

“Yeah. Not sure if he was lying about survivors, or about lobotomising them, but either way he’s full of brahmin shit.” Thomas pushed himself away from the wall and walked across the room, his footsteps echoing. “What we need to do is send a message that we won’t be intimidated.”

“What do you propose we do?”

“They want their wagon, right?” he asked. “We give it to them. Throw something on top to cover what’s inside.”

“We can’t send them away with an empty wagon,” the mare retorted. “They’ll check it before the leave.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Thomas said with a smirk. “When they check, I’ll give them a shotgun rhinoplasty.”

“A what?”

Under his mask, the man rolled his eyes. “After I take out two of them, we need someone else to knock out the third.”

“To deliver the message,” Blossom muttered, following his train of thought. “But how will that show them that we can’t be intimidated?”

“This isn’t exactly… orthodox, or sane, but hear me out.”

“I see you decided to listen to reason,” the unicorn said smugly.

“Shut up and take your crap.”

“Fine.” The three unicorns in their strange armour watched as the Ranger unhitched herself. “Flash, Beacon, take a look inside. Make sure it hasn’t been tampered with.”

The other two unicorns marched up to it and ripped away the canvas cloth covering the wagon. “It’s empty,” one of them said.

“No it’s not,” the wagon said. A blast of emerald fire came from nowhere and smote one of the pair in the chest, melting its way through her armour and out her back. Before the second pony could respond, something solid slammed into her jaw, sending her onto the ground. Before she could get back on her hooves there was another blast of emerald fire, this one removing three of her legs.

“Messy,” Thomas said as he flicked a switch on his Stealth-Boy, deactivating the device.

“What the - ?” was all the third unicorn managed to get out as a Ranger slammed into his side, sending him flying into a fence post.

“He unconscious?” Thomas asked as he jumped out of the wagon.

“Well he’s not moving,” the Ranger that had just subdued the unicorn replied, poking the pony in question.

“Good enough for me,” the Elder said. “Bring him in, so we can do this next part.”

“Someone get me a saw,” the Courier said as he loaded the bodies back into the wagon.

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” Despite being asked repeatedly, the man kept his mouth shut as he slowly pulled the cart away.

When the unicorn woke up, his body felt heavy. His surrounds seemed a lot darker, and there was no sign of his fellow unicorns Beacon and Flash. “What happened?” he asked as he pushed himself up.

“You’re going to deliver a message.” He looked up and jumped back in shock, falling onto his rump as the armoured biped stepped into view. He only just noticed the searing pain on his haunches. “You might want to be quick, too, because I’m pretty sure the last thing you need is to get infected or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you got slammed into that post, it broke a few of your ribs,” the Courier explained casually. “We don’t exactly have the best medical equipment here, so we don’t know if we did it right.”

“Oh.” For a moment, he was lost for words. “Why?”

“Simple. We need you to get back to your bosses alive.”

“Where are the unicorns that came with me?” he asked.

Courier Six simply turned and made a gesture to somepony in the distance. As a pony pulling a cart came into view, he spoke up. “Now, when you get back, you tell whoever’s in charge that they have fucked with the wrong person. Any attack on these ponies is as good as an attack on me. And as a general rule, I don’t leave survivors.”

“Where are my friends?” the unicorn asked stubbornly as the other pony quickly unhitched himself.

“Take a look,” the masked biped said, gesturing at the wagon.

The unicorn walked around to get a better look, and nearly threw up. “Y-you monster!” Inside the wagon was a mess of severed limbs, organs and blood. Flash and Beacon had been hacked apart, before being arranged in the back of the wagon in the most gruesome display possible. He couldn’t decide which was worse, that their heads, positioned so that they were looking directly at him, had no horns, or that he could see parts that looked as though they had been skinned.

“That’s just a taste,” the Courier stated as he stepped closer, revealing his chest and arms slick with blood. “A small sample of the horrors I plan on unleashing.” The man brought his left hand up and looked at the two things he was holding with mild interest. “Might make a necklace,” he muttered.

“Y-you’d wear those as some sort of sick trophy!?” the unicorn exclaimed.

“Met a man once, a bounty hunter, collected fingers. This isn’t that different, way I see it,” Thomas said calmly as he put the horns into one of his many pockets. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he added when the stallion’s horn began to glow.

“Why not?” he spat.

“There are half a dozen snipers, each one with your head in their sights. I give the signal and…” The man trailed off ominously. “I suggest you run off back home, little pony. Don’t forget what you came here for,” he added as he walked away.

“I liked it better when you just made creepy threats,” Moonbeam said as the man entered a small tent. “That…”

“Threats only get you so far. Sometimes, you gotta show them the consequences.”

“I hope we haven’t thrown away good tech, Courier,” the Elder said disapprovingly. “Because if this doesn’t work -”

“It will,” he reassured the older mare. “If drugged up cannibals can put together a proximity mine, I can put together a photosensitive trigger.”

Bright Shine stumbled past the fortifications in Dodge, his gruesome cargo in tow. “Th-they killed them. Killed them,” he stuttered.

“Killed who?” somepony asked.

“Beacon. And Flash.”

“Holy shit,” somepony muttered when they caught a glimpse of what he was pulling. The sounds of retching filled the air.

“Get him to the doc.” Bright Shine was dimly aware of the harness being removed and him getting pulled away.

“It’ll be okay,” the mare leading him said.

“They… they said some of my ribs were broken,” he said in a daze. “Something about an infection.”

“I’ll help you get your armour off, okay?” the mare said soothingly.

He didn’t know how long it took to get there, but he eventually found himself before one of the doctors. Bright couldn’t remember his name. “Get him on the bed,” the old stallion said, “and help me get his armour off.”

“What’s wrong?” Bright asked dimly when they stopped and stared halfway through.

“Sweet merciful Queen…” the doctor muttered.

“Those… those monsters,” the mare said.

He looked at where they were staring and gaped. His cutie mark, an eight-pointed crimson starburst, was gone. Instead there was nothing but raw bleeding flesh where he had been skinned.

“J-just get some bandages, and help me disinfect the wound,” the doctor ordered. “You, get up here.”

Bright obeyed the command, too far into shock to even think of anything. His mark was gone. His best friends were dead. Those two facts were all that mattered. He didn’t even feel any pain as they cleaned up his wounds and did what they could to save him.

“Those are some terrible stitches. Cauterise, give me some help here, would you?” As they went to work on his chest, undoing the clumsy work of those pathetic primitives, he decided that he would make them pay. Especially that damned Courier. “What the fuck is that?”

“That was a lot bigger than I was expecting,” Thomas said in awe.

“How much explosives did you put inside that pony?” Moonbeam asked in shock.

“I wasn’t there for that, I just said to get in as much as they could. What did they do, tear out half his stomach and one of his lungs?” he asked rhetorically. “Seriously, the only way they could have gotten a bigger boom was to stick an artillery shell inside him.”

“So… what now?”

“Without any doctors, any injuries will slowly kill them. But they might be able to get reinforcements,” he added thoughtfully. “I guess the Elder will have a long talk about it in the morning.”

Author's Note

This Thomas is not exactly the same as the one that features in Wayward Courier. Oh, the majority of their history, actions and morality are the same, but the devil is in the details.
And I said it before, this setting lets me demonstrate just why angering this man is a very bad idea...

History

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

History

“Okay, Courier, now what?”

“They’re scared. They don’t know what else we might do.”

“So, you plan on letting them stew in their own paranoia?” The Elder shook her head. “Unacceptable, we need to retake Dodge as soon as possible.”

“I never said anything about letting them stew.” Thomas got up from his seat in the little dining room-turned-council chamber and started pacing. “They have the upper hand in both tech and numbers. If you want to take back your home, we need to cripple them.”

“What do you have in mind?” Jacket Potato asked, his helmeted head bobbing.

“Our doctors are not carving up another pony to turn him into a living bomb,” Elder Cherry Blossom said, cutting the man off. “Any more damage to the town is unacceptable.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest doing it again. Besides, just how much did they stuff inside the guy?” he questioned. “I’ve seen mortars with smaller explosions.”

“Where the hell have you seen mortars?” Baked Potato asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” the man said dismissively.

“Do I have to be here?” Moonbeam asked quietly. Never before had the mare felt so out of place, surrounded by figures in power armour that weren’t trying to kill her and ponies in dusty, century-old robes looking at her with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “The last time we split up you got abducted.”

“Anyway,” one of the Scribes said loudly, “what are you going to suggest?”

“It involves the water supply.”

The Scribes turned to each other and started muttering. “What do you mean?” Baked Potato asked.

“We can rely on them needing water,” the man pointed out.

“Depriving them of water is gonna be out of the question,” one of the Scribes said loudly.

“Okay. And you are?”

“Taffy,” the mare replied, brushing her salt-and-pepper mane out of her eyes. “I was the one in charge of the water purifier.”

“Then you’re who I need to talk to.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Moonbeam asked the room at large.

“Considering your last idea, this one isn’t that bad.”

“What was wrong with my last idea?” the man asked as they left the room.

“It was the kind of thing I’d expect a raider to come up with,” the mare shot back. “And why did you take all their cutie marks?”

Thomas sighed. “I guess it’s part of my upbringing. A… tradition, I guess.”

“Oh?” Moonbeam nodded her thanks when he held the door open for her.

“Yeah,” the man replied as he stepped outside. “We weren’t exactly tribal, but we were definitely a bit more savage. When the NCR came, we knew better than to fight a group better armed so we sorta accepted things. Didn’t hurt that things were a lot quieter after they showed up, didn’t have to fight off other villages trying to raid us for supplies. And we could do a bit of trading, mostly leather.”

“You mentioned them before, didn’t you, the ‘En-See-Ar’. What are they?”

“New California Republic. As far as I know, the only post-War country along the entire west coast. Pretty big too, last time I checked a map. Basically, our little town decided to sign up for protection. We had to pay taxes, but seeing we didn’t need to spend as much repairing the buildings, it evened out.”

“That… sounds like a protection racket.”

The man couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess it does, doesn’t it? But we also got help from the Followers of the Apocalypse, helped us get a few crops growing, taught us some first aid, even taught some of us to read and write.”

“Why would they call themselves that?” Moonbeam asked. “Seems… contrary.”

“I asked about that. Something about following in the wake of the apocalypse and trying to undo the damage, restoring lost knowledge. Not that it really matters much,” the man added with a shrug. “Couldn’t change everything about us.”

“How does this tie in to the whole ‘skinning ponies’ thing?”

“Basically, when we killed something, we had to bring back some proof, something that was definitely from what we had just killed. Usually, that meant pelts, stingers, teeth… When a few NCR bounties came in, we started bringing back scalps and hands. They didn’t like that, but it didn’t stop us.”

“That’s… kinda messed up,” Moonbeam noted, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

“When you grow up with it, it’s completely normal,” the man replied with a shrug. “Hell, one bounty I took a few months back needed heads as proof of death. And that was a member of the NCR military asking for them.”

Moonbeam snorted. “No wonder you were fine with turning somepony into a walking bomb.”

“That was something I picked up from raiders,” Thomas admitted. “Met a group that would capture travellers, slap bomb collars on them and watch them run. They didn’t find it so funny when I returned the favour,” the man said, chuckling darkly.

“Great, I make friends with an alien and he’s a fucking lunatic…” she muttered, putting a bit more distance between them.

“We’re all a little crazy, Moonbeam. It’s called being normal.” Thomas laughed again. “Besides, one of the doctors seemed a little too happy with my suggestion. Strap someone onto a table and I bet she’d be happy to show him his insides.”

“Great. Remind me to stay away from wherever the doctors live.”

With nothing to do for a few hours, Thomas and Moonbeam had decided to take to weapon maintenance. The man had to teach the pony how to go about it, having to learn himself how to properly clean a battle saddle. They both looked up when a pony pushed open the flap of their tent.

“Howdy ma’am.”

“Zombie!”

Thomas turned to glare at Moonbeam, who had scooted back as far as possible. “Sorry about my friend, she was dropped on her head as a foal.”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay,” the ghoul replied, smiling sadly. “Guess I’m a little too used to this kind of treatment.”

Thomas sighed. “That’s just not right.”

The ghoul’s smile became a happy one. “Nice to meet someone who cares.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Ghouls are just like us smoothskins,” he replied, using the derogatory term neutrally. “Everything that matters is still there.” Thomas looked over the ghoul, taking in the important features. All that was left of her mane and tail were strands of crimson hair, and there were only scarce patches of her pale yellow coat remaining.

“How can you be so friendly to that?” Moonbeam hissed angrily.

“Moonbeam, you keep this up, I’ll kick you out. Now apologise.”

“What!? Why!?”

“Because a ghoul is just the same as any other person. They got dealt a bad hand, and they are making the most of it,” the man replied angrily. “I don’t care if you don’t like ghouls, but treat them with some respect. Okay?”

“Okay, okay!” the mare said hurriedly, not wanting to make the man any angrier. “I’m sorry!”

Thomas turned away and back to the ghoul. “What are you here to see us for, ma’am?”

“I just wanted to give my thanks for helping the Rangers take back Dodge Junction,” the ghoul replied, slowly lying down. “I must say, you weren’t what I was expecting, though, from what the radio said. I was expecting something a bit more fearsome.”

“You’re looking at the mastermind behind the ‘turn a pony into a walking bomb’ plan here,” Moonbeam pointed out.

“Oh, that’s nothing. We had plans to turn the town into an irradiated crater if the zebras ever showed up,” the ghoul replied. “Thank Celestia it never came to that. I just hope we don’t need to go through with it now.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am, we’re making sure it won’t come to that.” Thomas put the battle saddle down. “I never got your name.”

“I must be forgetting my manners in my old age,” the ghoul muttered to herself. “Cherry Jubilee, darling. I was the boss before the war, and the ponies still treat me like I am. I know the area, so the Rangers and townsfolk listen to me and the other workers.”

“You mean there are more of you?” Moonbeam asked.

“I’m not sure I like your tone, young lady,” Cherry Jubilee said, turning to glare at the other mare. “I can get the Rangers to escort you off of my property if you don’t start showing some respect.”

“What!?”

“Moonbeam, how about I tie your mouth shut?” Thomas offered. “That way, you don’t have to worry about saying anything stupid.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I offered, but my brain didn’t want to go along with it,” the man replied with a shrug. “What?”

“I… You know what? Fuck it, I don’t want to know,” Moonbeam muttered, turning back to her gun.

“That sounds like an interesting story,” Cherry Jubilee noted, putting a rotting hoof to her mouth to try and hide her amusement.

“Yeah, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“That’s a shame. The ponies here need something to keep them distracted and a story like that would go a long way,” the ghoul pointed out.

“I guess. How did you plan on destroying Dodge?” Thomas asked, trying to change the subject.

“Back before the war, the town was called Dodge Junction. When the MAS and MWT started doing things, we managed to… coerce a few ponies. We gave them bits, and they supplied us with the knowledge and materials to create a small balefire megaspell.”

Moonbeam had unfortunately chosen to take a drink a few moments earlier. “A WHAT!?” she asked after she sprayed Thomas with water and spit. “Are you insane!?”

“That sounds like the stupidest idea ever,” Thomas said, taking a moment to recover. He wasn’t entirely sure just what was meant by the word ‘megaspell’, but it being used in the same sentence as ‘balefire’ was enough to tell him that it wasn’t a good thing. “How did you even afford that?”

“Before the war, I was the richest businessmare in the area. I had stocks in Ironshod Firearms, Stable-Tec, Robronco, Splendid Valley Mining… every major company, really. That’s not counting just how much I made myself. It wasn’t that hard to grease a few hooves and get what we needed.” Thomas couldn’t help but draw a few parallels between her and Robert House.

Cherry Jubilee sighed. “We were desperate and scared. Everypony was. It was a miracle we were able to hide what we were doing from the Ministry of Morale.”

“So… what happened to the megaspell?” Moonbeam asked.

“We stored it here, on the ranch. Of course, we used the same cellar as a bunker when the megaspells started going off. Dodge Junction didn’t even get hit, but there was enough radiation to make sure we stayed inside for a few months.” The ghoul chuckled ruefully. “We never thought to use our geiger counters inside.”

“That’s why you’re all ghouls, then?” Moonbeam asked.

“Reminds me of Necropolis,” Thomas muttered.

“It’s not so bad, though,” Cherry Jubilee said. “Maybe one day the ground will get fertile enough to start growing things again. And I’ll be able to see it happen.”

“So… you still have it? The bomb?”

“We have the shell. The unicorns that made it didn’t do it right, and we ended up with a bomb that leaked balefire radiation constantly. The cellar is lethal to non-ghouls, though. It’s also why nothing grows here anymore. The radiation turned the soil barren,” she explained. “Ironic, really. I tried to save everypony and killed us all instead.”

“Life has a funny way of turning out like that,” Thomas agreed sadly. “The harder you try to protect someone, the easier they get ripped away from you.”

“I didn’t actually lose anypony,” Cherry Jubilee said carefully. “We all died, but we became ghouls instead.”

“None of them turned feral, did they?” Moonbeam asked suddenly.

The ghoul rolled her eyes. “Do you really think the Rangers would have brought everypony here if there were ferals? Young lady, I will tan your hide if you keep this up,” she added sternly.

The unicorn started stammering, not knowing what to say in response to this threat. “Moonbeam, seriously, just… shut up. You’re making yourself look about as smart as a chem addict who tried snorting dog shit.”

“Sorry for raising a legitimate concern!” Moonbeam yelled defensively.

“Except it wasn’t,” Thomas pointed out. “You’re just being a bigoted bitch.”

“Why do you even care?”

“When you grow up in a place that people consider almost tribal, you get looked down on by everyone when you go to a proper town,” he explained. “You’re dressed a little differently, you don’t know how something works. They see that, and they use that. Make you feel stupid, make you feel unwelcomed. Got arrested more than a few times for punching those idiots...”

“Courier Six?” The three turned to see a Ranger Scribe in dusty red robes poking his head in. “We need to discuss a few things with you.”

“Right.” The man stood up. “Moonbeam…”

“All right, all right, I’ll try and be polite.”

“No,” he replied, “don’t try. Just do it.”

The man left, leaving Moonbeam with Cherry Jubilee. “Umm…” the unicorn said uncomfortably.

The ghoul sighed. “I’ll leave, if you want.” She slowly got onto her hooves. “I don’t exactly have any reason to stay here and - ”

“No!” Moonbeam yelled suddenly. “No, don’t. I - I’m sorry, really. Everything I’ve heard about ghouls is that they just want to kill and eat you, that they’re just animals,” she explained awkwardly. “Never actually met a friendly ghoul before. Only ran into ferals.”

“That doesn’t justify your behaviour,” Jubilee replied flatly.

“I…” Moonbeam sighed. “I get that. It’s just hard to try and forget everything I’ve been taught my whole life.”

“I can relate,” the ghoul said with a smile. “Before the war, I had ties with more than a few companies in the zebra empire. After war was declared, I had to sever all of those ties or get branded a traitor. It didn’t feel right, betraying friends I had made. I knew that zebras were decent folk, and seeing the propaganda that Ministry of Image pumped out…” Her brow furrowed at the memories. “‘Better Wiped than Striped’. What a load of complete shit,” she spat.

“Umm…” Moonbeam was a little alarmed at how quickly the ghoul’s mood had changed. “I’m… sorry?”

“Don’t apologise unless you’re responsible for that… that shit they shoved down the throats of every foal,” Jubilee relied harshly. “I remember foals, couldn’t be older than seven, boasting that they were going to go fight the ‘evil’ zebras.” She snorted angrily. “It wasn’t the zebras that were evil, though.”

“Uhh…” Moonbeam was at a complete loss for words.

Jubilee let out a dry laugh. “Sorry, dear. Sometimes thinking about the past brings back bitter thoughts.”

“Okay,” the unicorn replied carefully, the ghoul’s actions not doing much to change her views.

Author's Note

Backstory, ho!

Painless

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Painless

Saltwater Taffy, the mare who had been in charge of Dodge’s water purifier, looked at the Courier. “I’m still not sure about this,” she said as she led them through the camp.

“Don’t worry. It won’t go wrong,” Thomas answered reassuringly.

“You do realise that now you’ve said that, it will?” she asked angrily. “Besides, who’s to say the purifier won’t just filter out what you put in?”

“We add it after the water’s been purified,” the man said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I can’t remember if the purifier will allow that,” the mare argued. “If we have to dismantle the damned thing to do this, then it’s not happening. No-one here knows to how do that.”

“Really?” Thomas asked, sounding a little surprised.

“All the instructions are back in Dodge,” Taffy explained. “If I had those, and a few more Scribes, then I’d consider trying.”

Thomas nodded. “Fair enough. No point in doing this if you have to abandon the town afterwards.”

“Exactly.” The unicorn nodded. “If we’re lucky, they don’t even know about it.”

The next minute passed in silence. “Tonight,” the masked man said suddenly.

“What?”

“We do it tonight. We leave it any longer, we lose any chance we might have to get in there without attracting attention.” He turned to look at her. “I’m gonna need some Rangers as well, just in case the place is guarded.”

“Right. Umm… Do you want a sharpshooter?” she asked.

“Yeah. If we don’t take them out before they can contact their friends, then the whole thing becomes a waste of time. Still, it wouldn’t be a complete lost cause,” he mused.

“The more we kill now, the less we fight later?” Taffy questioned.

“More like another warning,” Thomas said darkly. “I’m gonna need some grenades and some sensor modules.”

“Why am I here again?” Moonbeam asked, looking between the Scribe, Thomas and the three Steel Rangers. One of the power-armoured ponies had a large anti-machine rifle rigged to her battle saddle, a large metal box at the end of the barrel indicating that it was suppressed. The other Rangers simply had a pair of miniguns.

“I trust you. And another pair of eyes is always a good thing. And why did no-one tell me you guys had an anti-materiel rifle?” Thomas asked.

“The Elder’s under a lot of stress, of course she’d forget something. Now come on,” Taffy said, nervously checking the laser pistol she’d been given. Draped over her robes was a set of saddlebags, the contents clinking as she moved. “The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get back to bed.”

“Just tell me where to shoot,” Knight Tomato Salsa, the sniper they’d been assigned, said.

“Hopefully we won’t need to,” one of the other Rangers said. “We’re just here as a precaution.”

“Stop talking, you’ll give us away.”

“We haven’t even left yet,” Moonbeam pointed out, gesturing with her hoof to Cherry Hill Ranch, ten feet behind her.

“What did I just say?” Thomas countered. “Taffy, lead the way.”

The six-strong group crossed the desert in silence for an hour, the lights of the refugee camp disappearing into the darkness. Moonbeam was the first to break the silence. “Courier?” she whispered.

“What?” he whispered back.

“I don’t like being out here. It’s too… open.”

“It’s not that bad,” the man replied calmly.

“I grew up in Manehattan,” Moonbeam explained. “Buildings everywhere, y’know? I was taught to always look up for snipers and to watch for shadows. I can tell where a pony is just from a shout three blocks away, even after it gets echoed around like crazy, but here?” she asked. “I don’t have a clue. I’m practically useless.”

“Just stick close to me, then,” Thomas said. “I’ll keep you safe. And you’re not useless.”

“Thanks.”

“I thought you said something about no talking?” Tomato Salsa asked pointedly.

“Shut up,” Taffy replied. “We’re getting close. Salsa, get your scope out, you should be able to see it.”

“A’ight.” The scope’s mechanism whirred, positioning it over the left half of her visor. “Turn the low-light optics on and… Yep, they’re there. I can see three of them.”

“Fuck,” Taffy muttered.

Thomas put his hand into his duster and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out the scope of his sniper rifle. Flicking the switch on the side of his helmet, he put the scope to his eye, using it as a makeshift telescope. “Easy enough. Which one you gonna take out first?”

“All three,” the Ranger answered.

“Oh?”

“Just gotta wait for the right moment…”

The group waited in silence as Salsa tracked her targets. After several minutes, Moonbeam decided that she would be the first to break it. “What is she waiting for?”

PAFF! went the suppressed anti-machine rifle, the spent casing shooting out of the side. “Wow,” Thomas muttered.

“Thanks,” the markspony replied smugly.

“What just happened?” Taffy hissed.

“One bullet, three kills. I would’ve tried taking them down in three shots, hoping they wouldn’t notice until it was too late,” Thomas explained.

“Patience is a virtue. You always have to strike when you can do the most damage.” Salsa’s scope retracted back so it was no longer obscuring her view.

“Salsa, get your scope out again and keep an eye on things. Mousse, stay here and cover her. Salt, you’re with us.” As the sniper’s equipment came to life, Taffy turned to the Courier. “Now we get to find out if we can pull this off,” she said. “Oh Goddesses I hope we can,” she added under breath.

“At the very least, we’re thinning them out,” Rock Salt pointed out as he stepped forward. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

The man nodded. “Let’s get moving, the longer we wait the more time somepony inside has to figure out that something’s wrong,” Thomas muttered, sticking the scope back into its pocket. He pulled his shotgun from its sling on his back and made sure a shell was chambered.

“I really need some armour-piercing ammo,” Moonbeam mumbled to herself.

It took another ten minutes to get to the purifier at a quick trot. It was housed in a small concrete hut about a hundred yards from the shore of a lake. The lake seemed to glow a little in the dark, a sign of its irradiated state.

“How… fucking... far... were… we?” Moonbeam panted.

“Not that far,” Salt responded.

“You’ve got… your fucking power armour,” the unicorn pointed out. “You could gallop for hours and not feel a thing.”

“Moonbeam’s… right,” Taffy panted in response. “Oh Celestia… I’m... out of shape.”

“Yeah, you are,” the scavenger said. “I’m wearing barding, ammo boxes and… and a battle saddle. At least I have an excuse.”

“Shut up… okay?” the Scribe managed to wheeze. “Courier… Salt… take point.”

“Fine. How are we gonna do this?”

“I open the door, and if anyone comes I’ll take a little off the top,” Thomas answered. “After that, you go in and clean up the rest.”

“Good thing I packed my FMJs,” Salt replied, an obvious smile in his voice. “Okay,” he whispered as they got near, “do it.”

Thomas counted down from three in his head before pushing the door open with the Assistant. When nothing else happened, he motioned for Rock Salt to go in.

The Ranger’s miniguns spun up as he charged in. “SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS!” he yelled, his helmet’s speakers amplifying the volume to eardrum-bursting levels.

The two unicorns in the building were on the ground, covering their ears as they screamed in pain from the sonic assault. Rock Salt’s room-sweepers quickly put them out of their misery. “Not what I was expecting,” Thomas admitted as he looked around the stallion and saw the bloody mess he had made. “Still, not gonna argue with results like that.”

“Thanks.”

“What the fuck was that noise!?” they heard a voice say. They quickly found the source, a two-way radio in one of the corners. “Dammit, I think we just lost contact!”

“Ah shit. Salsa, Mousse, get ready, we’ve got a major problem coming our way,” he said into his helmet’s radio. “Yeah, reinforcements. No, haven’t got a number. Or an ETA. All right.”

“Taffy?” Thomas asked as he poked his out the door.

“I heard,” the Scribe said unhappily. “Fuck it. We’re here, I’ll see what I can do.” She pushed past the Courier and went to the very back of the shack, to one of two large… Thomas took a good look at it. To him, it resembled a large generator, a large half-cylinder that seemed to be built into the ground. Attached to it was a terminal, and behind that were what seemed like nozzles where someone could attach things, like bottles. They were both attached to pipes that went under the walls.

“Okay, let’s see…” Taffy muttered as she turned the terminal of the left machine on. “Good, they didn’t change the password. Need to open the secondary input valves and…” The mare swore. “Of course, the mechanism’s jammed. Why wouldn’t it be!? Rock Salt, find me a toolbox!” she yelled. “Now!”

As Salt scrambled to do as she asked, Thomas ducked back outside. “Moonbeam?” he asked.

“I think I see something coming,” the unicorn muttered uneasily.

“Here they come!” Rock Salt shouted as he charged outside. “Salsa’s gonna provide support, but we gotta take care of most of them ourselves,” he explained.

“Moonbeam, get inside,” Thomas commanded.

“What?”

He looked down at the confused unicorn. “You don’t have anything that can punch through their armour. We do,” he explained. “If Taffy asks for help, give it to her, all right?”

“R-right.” Moonbeam rushed as fast as she could to the shack.

“You think that’s gonna do any good?” the Ranger asked.

“One less thing to worry about,” the man replied. “We need to get some cover.”

“Salsa’s opened fire,” Salt said. “Taken out five already.”

“How many are there?”

“Salsa, how many?” the stallion asked into his radio. “Shit. At least twenty left.” He paused for a moment. “Now it’s less than twenty,” he corrected himself.

“And how far away are they?”

“Salsa, give us an ETA,” he said into his radio. “Three minutes.”

“Then we might not need to worry about them,” the man said hopefully.

“Half the group just peeled off, heading for her,” Salt said, shattering the man’s optimistic thoughts. “We’re on our own now.”

Thomas put the Assistant’s stock against his shoulder. “That helmet’s got a light attached to it, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“When they get close enough, turn it on,” he suggested. “You might blind a few.”

“And make myself a nice big target,” the stallion muttered unhappily.

“I dunno about you, but I’d say that green fire is gonna be a bit more tempting to shoot at,” the man argued.

“All right, I’ll do it,” Salt replied, sounding reluctant about the prospect of making himself a target.

“Your armour can take a few hits, right?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather not have to explain to the Scribes that they need to feed what little scrap we have into this to repair it,” the Ranger countered angrily.

Moonbeam closed the door to the shack behind her, muffling the argument going on outside. “What are you doing here?” Taffy asked.

“Staying safe. Protecting you. Or something,” she added. “Need help?” she asked, not liking feeling useless.

“Pass me that wrench,” the Scribe said as she wrestled with the purifier, pointing aimlessly with a hoof at the toolbox. “If I can just loosen this fucking thing then… I should be able to…” Gunfire and screaming drowned out the rest of what she was going to say.

“Oh shit, it’s the Courier!” they heard one of the unicorns shout. “What’s he doing here!?”

“MY DICK! HE KICKED ME IN THE DICK!”

“I don’t wanna know,” Moonbeam muttered as she tried to find the wrench.

“Thanks,” Taffy said as she snatched the tool out of the other mare’s magic. “Come on, come on,” she muttered.

“WHY WOULD YOU SHOOT HER THERE?!”

“Yes!” Taffy shouted triumphantly as she jumped down off the purifier. “Okay, opening secondary input valves… Moonbeam! My saddlebags!”

“CRY SOME MORE!” roared Rock Salt, having turned on his helmet’s loudspeaker again.

Moonbeam looked around for a moment before finding them, lying discarded under a bench. She pulled out the contents and looked at them briefly. “Isn’t this overkill?”

“Better safe than sorry,” the Scribe said. She unscrewed one of the large bottles, each one roughly the size of an anti-vehicle rocket and slotted it into one of the valves. “One down…”

“MY OVARIES!” they heard a stallion scream.

“WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST OUR-”

BOOM

“Done!” Taffy hammered away on the terminal’s keyboard. “Okay, now we just need to let the machine do its job.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I hope you guys are done,” Thomas said as he opened the door before limping through it, “because we are.” The fighting had done a lot of damage to his duster, the lasers leaving great big holes in it. Everything below the waist had been disintegrated, leaving a disgusting smell that made Moonbeam gag. His body armour had suffered as well, now covered in ugly welts.

“Whether we’re done or not won’t mean anything if this doesn’t actually work,” Taffy pointed out. “We just used up some really important medical supplies for this scheme of yours.”

“Three huge bottles of Med-X just feels like overkill to me,” Moonbeam muttered.

“Better safe than sorry. Besides, won’t it be easier to just walk into town and haul away the dead instead of fighting?” Thomas asked.

“On paper, maybe. A Med-X overdose doesn’t seem like much fun to clean up,” the scavenger mare replied.

“Taffy!” Rock Salt shouted as he barreled his way into the purifier shack, some of his armour plating melted in places. “We need to get back to the Ranch, now!”

“What? Why?” the Scribe asked.

“It’s under attack!”

“What!?” Moonbeam looked at the Ranger in shock. “Who?”

“Who do you think?” Thomas asked. “How bad is it?”

“I-I dunno. I’m not getting anything from the Ranch. Salsa saw the lasers and explosions,” Salt explained nervously. “Shit shit shit! We need to get back!”

“Calm down!” Taffy yelled, not sounding very calm herself. “Calm down!” It wasn’t clear if she was telling that to the Ranger or herself.

“Rock Salt, tell Salsa and the other guy to move,” Thomas ordered, taking charge of the situation. “Have them attack the unicorns from behind.”

“R-right.” Salt quickly repeated the instructions to his radio.

“We need to move,” Taffy suggested, pointing out the obvious..

Elder Cherry Blossom let out a frustrated scream as he battle saddle unleashed another barrage of missiles. “These are my ponies! I will not let you fuckers take any more from me!”

All around her were the screams of falling unicorns and Rangers, explosions and zaps and gunfire as weapons fired into the night. To her left were Paladins Jacket Potato and Baked Potato, each one letting loose into the attackers.

“We got the civvies and Scribes to safety!” the Elder heard somepony say in her earpiece. “They’re holed up in one of the old warehouses!”

“Stay there and keep them safe!” she ordered.

The Rangers were doing an admirable job for having been caught on the back hoof again. Unfortunately, the attackers had numerical superiority, and the Rangers were getting beaten back.

“Elder, Knight Danger Close is asking for authorisation to use the B.E.L!” she heard.

She paused for a moment as her saddle reloaded. If something wasn’t done quickly then the unicorns would win. Of course, there was something she actually wanted to know. “And where the fuck did he get his hooves on a balefire egg!?”

“He said he had it hidden!”

“Where!?”

“Uhh… you do not wanna know,” came the uneasy reply.

It took all of her willpower to not facehoof. “Just… Let him do it. Rangers!” she yelled out. “Fall back! Get to cover!”

As the Rangers did that, she saw the unicorns look behind to their comrades and motion them forward. “We have the upper hoof!” she heard.

“No you don’t,” she muttered as she ran past Danger Close.

His modified B.E.L sat on his back, the rail resting against the back of his head. Four stakes, one on each side of his body, were planted in the ground as the weapon loaded itself. “Hey, assholes! Sweetie has a gift for you!” he bellowed through his loudspeaker. The unnaturally black egg flew up the rail and into the air, the B.E.L letting out a strange, haunting wail.

The lasers stopped for a moment as every unicorn stopped to watch the egg. It seemed to pull in light, making it a patch of pure darkness in the already dark sky. Most of them had no idea what they were seeing, but those few that did immediately tried to run. It was futile.

“Yeah!” Danger Close shouted triumphantly over the deafening explosion. “How do you unicorn fucks like balefire!?” he asked the rising mushroom cloud that swept over where the unicorns had stood. Those who had been unfortunate to be right to next to the egg when it had detonated had vanished, not even so much as ashes remaining. Those who had survived but had been close to the epicentre had been reduced to charred flesh and warped metal, their faces twisted into displays on pure agony. Those who had been further away had been burnt and flung through the air, sending some hundreds of feet away.

The other Rangers stared at the scene with a mix of awe and horror. “Holy shit…” They weren’t the only ones.

“Y-you…” one of the survivors managed to get out as she shakily got to her hooves. “You monsters!” Her battle saddle made a few pathetic whining noises as it failed to fire. “Fucking - ” The mare’s back half suddenly vanished in a cloud of metal and gore, silencing her.

“What in Celestia’s name did we miss?” the Rangers heard Tomato Salsa ask over their radio channel.

“Ma’am, did we just see a balefire explosion?” Mousse asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

“Yes you did, Knight. Things were bad, we had to end the fight decisively and quickly,” the Elder explained. “I just hope it was worth it.”

“Is that all of them?” she heard one of her Rangers ask. “Are they all dead?”

“I see movement, looks like he’s trying to get back onto his hooves,” Salsa said. “I’m not sure how he plans on doing that with three broken legs,” she added.

“Round up the survivors,” Cherry Blossom ordered. “Hopefully we can get some information out of them.”

Thomas, Moonbeam, Rock Salt and Saltwater Taffy just stared in slackjawed shock. “What the fuck just happened?”

Author's Note

This chapter brought to you by Things That Should Put Me On A Government Watchlist!

Fallout

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Fallout

Moonbeam had to struggle to keep her meal down as she walked through the gate. The blast had knocked the old sign off, and there was a corpse leaning against one of the posts. That wouldn’t have been noteworthy, except that half its armour was melted to it, its coat was all burnt away and the explosion had left the pony missing an eye, literally boiling it in its socket. What flesh was visible had been melted by the intense heat, hanging down the other side of its face in a twisted likeness of an eyepatch.

Not far from the one body was another corpse, which Thomas made to pull away. He grabbed the legs, but the body didn’t move. The flesh on the legs, however…

Moonbeam looked away as she lost her battle, throwing up all over her hooves. Thomas made a sickened noise as he backed away, trying his best to get rid of the melted flesh on his gloves. “It’s the fucking Divide all over again…” he mumbled.

The Rangers around them were either indifferent to the destruction, or better at hiding it. Bodies were being moved, weapons were being salvaged, orders were being barked. “Did… did anypony survive?” Moonbeam managed to say, wiping at her mouth for a moment.

“There were a few,” a voice said from the darkness. “No idea how badly irradiated they are, though. Doubt most of them will survive.”

Thomas and Moonbeam pushed past the working ponies, eventually making way to the only armoured Ranger not doing anything. “What the fuck?” Thomas asked, gesturing behind him to the horror they had just walked through.

“I know, okay?” Cherry Blossom said angrily. “You don’t think my Rangers haven’t given me enough crap for this?”

“You used a… a balefire weapon. Why?” Moonbeam asked quietly.

“We were gonna get overrun! I… I had to authorise it. I had no choice…” she muttered bitterly. “I had no choice…”

Thomas looked around. “Was it worth it?” he asked. “All this… death?”

“They were gonna die anyway.”

“Yeah, but… like this? This is just wrong.”

“This is the line for you?” Moonbeam asked, looking up at the man. “You cut off cutie marks, you turn a pony into a walking bomb, but balefire? That’s when you decide that it’s too far?”

“Tell me how you feel after you accidentally blow up an entire settlement,” he shot back quietly. “There’s nothing right about using weapons like this, even when you have no choice.”

“It wasn’t the right choice, but it was the right one,” Blossom spat back. “If doing… that means I don’t lose my Rangers, then fine. I’ll live with that. I have to.”

“I hope you can, Elder. It’s not easy, living with something like this on your conscience,” the man said as he walked away.

“Thomas?” Moonbeam poked her head into their tent. She found the man sitting on the ground, a needle in one hand as he repaired his duster.

“Yeah?” he asked, not turning around.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked back. “We crippled their forces and compromised their water supply. That’s a victory.”

“Thomas, come on,” the mare said as she stepped in. “It’s pretty obvious you don’t like what you saw out there.”

“Of course I didn’t,” he snarled. “Nothing justifies using that sort of weapon on anyone.”

Moonbeam couldn’t help but be shocked at the sheer emotion on his voice. He sounded like he was ready to burst into tears. “Uh… There there?” she said awkwardly.

“Leave me alone,” the man said.

“Look, Thomas, I wanna help.”

“Why?”

“We’re friends, you idiot,” the mare pointed out. “It’s what friends do, and it’s just weird seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Depressed.” The got close and nudged him with her nose. “You’re usually smiling, or making distasteful jokes. Come on. You can tell me.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” Thomas asked. When the pony shook her head he sighed. “All right, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“It can’t be that bad, right?”

“It’s worse.” Thomas took a deep breath. “The Divide. Makes the Sierra look downright pleasant. Windstorms that’ll rip the skin right off ya. Pockets of radiation so bad they’ll kill you in minutes. And the Marked Men…” The man shuddered. “The storms flay them constantly, but the radiation heals them. It leaves them in constant agony, uniting them in the one thing they’ve known for years.”

Moonbeam sat there, staring at him agape. It sounded far worse than anything she’s heard about in Equestria. “What… what the fuck happened? Why is the Divide like that?”

“During the war, it was a missile base,” he explained. “Hundreds of nuclear missiles, just waiting to be launched at China. One day, about five years ago, all the warheads that got buried… they went off. Ripped the entire place apart, destroyed the settlement that had managed to carve out a home in there.”

“That… that kind of thing doesn’t just happen,” Moonbeam said uneasily.

“Yeah. It doesn’t,” he agreed.

The pair sat in silence for a while. “So…” Moonbeam said. “How?”

“Me.”

“What?”

“I said me. I’m responsible.”

Moonbeam looked at the man, confused. “What? No, there’s no way you’d do something like that,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Right?”

“Not deliberately.” Thomas sighed. “I didn’t know what I was delivering. It was just another job.”

“So… you’re beating yourself up over something you didn’t really have any control over?” the mare asked. “Really?”

“Oh no, I’ve accepted what happened. It wasn’t easy, but I did. Somehow. No, what haunts me is what I saw. It…” Thomas paused. “What was out there was nothing compared to what I saw then, but it was enough. Enough to make me remember.”

Moonbeam sat there in silent contemplation. Eventually, she just settled for hugging the man, wrapping her forelegs around his waist. “It’s okay, Thomas.”

“I don’t need a hug, Moonbeam,” the man said flatly. “Thanks, though,” she added, patting her head.

“What were you doing, anyway?” she asked after this continued for a while.

“Fixing my duster.”

“Yeah, but what with?” she questioned.

Thomas cleared his throat. “I… don’t have much to fix it with. You probably don’t want me to tell you.”

“I’m a big mare, I can take it,” she said with a smile.

“All right, I warned you.” He held up a scrap of what looked like cloth.

“Okay, I don’t get…” She stared at it for a moment. “Oh Goddesses what is wrong with you!?”

“I did warn you,” he pointed out.

“Cutting off cutie marks as a trophy is one thing, wearing them is just fucked!”

“I’m not gonna go and ask the ponies here for things. They have nothing, it wouldn’t be right,” he pointed out.

“Just… Couldn’t you at least have the marks facing inwards?” she asked.

“The way I see it, this counts as intimidation.” Thomas lifted up his half-fixed duster. So far, he’d sown in five different cutie marks to undo the damage. Moonbeam looked at the nightmarish patchwork in disgust. “Anyone crazy enough to wear someone’s body parts isn’t someone you wanna make mad, right?”

“You already are mad,” Moonbeam argued. “Completely insane.”

The next day dawned, showing to everypony the extent of the damage. Aside from the twenty-foot deep crater, there were numerous scattered limbs that hadn’t been picked up, as well as pools of metal that had once been armour. The ground in and around the crater had been charred, in some areas the dirt becoming glassy. It was a gruesome sight.

Thomas glanced at the destruction and shook his head. The ponies around him gave him a wide berth as he purposefully strode towards the farmhouse. He was glad that he had left his duster in his tent, he didn’t want the other ponies to see it just yet, though he still had his helmet on. He reasoned that was why he was being avoided.

As he made to open the door, it swung open, slamming into his outstretched hand. “Motherfucker!” he exclaimed, cradling his bruised fingers.

“Oh. Sorry, dear,” said a gravelly voice.

The man looked up and nodded curtly. “It’s okay ma’am, I’ve had worse. Just unexpected.”

Cherry Jubilee just sighed and walked past. “If you’re sure you’re fine…”

Thomas watched curiously as the ghoul walked off, muttering something unkind under her breath. “Hmm.” Deciding that it was none of his business, he pushed his way inside the building. What he didn’t expect to hear was sobbing.

“I-I-I’m a terrible p-poneee…”

The Courier opened a door and found the Elder leaning against her helmet, tears running down her face. An empty bottle of what was either vodka or absinthe sat next to her on the desk. “You okay?”

“D-do I l-look okay to you?” the mare asked, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“All right, let it out,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes under his mask. “Come on,” he added, motioning for her to come closer.

Cherry Blossom stumbled from her chair towards the man. It was only before she lunged at him that he realised that, apart from her helmet she was in full armour. “Oh shi - ” It took everything he had to not topple over when she barrelled into him.

She missed his strained grunts as she bawled openly onto his shoulder, practically soaking his shirt. As she sniffed loudly in his ear, he patted her awkwardly on the back. “This is worse than Veronica,” he managed to wheeze.

“I-I-I used a b-b-balefire weapon! What was I thinking!?”

“You had no other choice,” Thomas said, doing his best to sound reassuring while being slowly crushed by several hundred pounds of distraught pony. “You did what you had to do.”

“Then why do I feel like shit?” she sobbed.

“Just let it all out,” he said, adjusting his footing to better take the weight. “Listen to me,” he said calmly. “I know what it’s like. It’s not easy. But there’s no point dwelling on it. All you can do is accept that it happened and move on. Don’t let it eat at you. The ponies outside this building need you. You have to be strong for them.”

“B-but how? How can th-they trust me after that?”

“Go out there. Be strong. If they see you doubting yourself, they’ll doubt you as well,” he instructed calmly. “You’re a Steel Ranger. Heart of fire and nerves of steel, right? You need to show them that. Those ponies need someone to rally behind, to show them that what they’re fighting for is right. And you can’t do that by getting drunk and hiding from them.”

“I… I…”

“You’re the Elder. Half the ponies here think that you’re made of steel. You need to go out there and show them that it’s true.”

“You’re… you’re completely right. I… I can’t just sit here and do this. They need me.” Elder Cherry Blossom pushed herself off the man and took a deep breath. “Th-thank you, Courier. I needed that.”

“No problem. I’ve… well, I’ve had a bit of experience,” the man replied, thankful that his lungs were no longer being crushed. “I’m not saying everyone here will immediately shower you with praise or anything. But if they see you trying to make amends, trying to make things right, well, that’s all you’ll need.”

She nodded. “Again, thank you Courier. The last thing we need is… well, you saw.” She cleared her throat. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anypony about what just happened, though.”

“Of course.”

“What is it?” Cherry Blossom called out when somepony knocked on the door.

“Ma’am,” a voice said from the other side, “some of the survivors are waking up. We thought that we might be able to get some information out of them.”

“I doubt they’ll just give anything up,” the Elder said.

“We figured as much. We were hoping for authorisation to… coerce them, ma’am.”

Author's Note

This chapter did not move in the way I expected. Nice to know I can surprise myself.

Strange Coincidence

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Strange Coincidence

Thomas had found the number of stares he got as Moonbeam led him through the Library distracting. Sure, he could understand why, to them he was unique and exotic, something that had to be seen to be believed. He just didn’t find it very comfortable. He couldn’t remember how many turns he had made as he followed the mare, so he knew that he would need help getting out from wherever she was leading him.

“And this is where I live,” she said, leading him through a door marked ‘Private Reading Room 75’. “Mayor Script decided that because I brought you here, you have to live with me.” There was no enthusiasm in her words, making it clear to Thomas that she was upset with the arrangements.

Her room was spartan, only a mattress and a few books lying on top of the moldy carpet. In one of the corners was a small pile of ammunition and gun parts, and a tattered map had been hung on one wall, covered in scribbles and notes. “Any chance of a mattress or something?”

“We’ll have to grab one from storage later,” the mare replied. Her horn glowed and her armour began to undo itself. It fell to the ground, revealing a symbol on each flank. It looked like a small bag, filled to the point of bursting. “Need to go back out tomorrow,” she muttered.

‘Hm,” Thomas hummed, looking at the strange marks. “Never seen tattoos like that before.”

“Tattoos?” Moonbeam asked. She followed his gaze and understood. “Oh. No, that’s my cutie mark.”

“What?” Thomas asked, trying not to laugh. He was really grateful that he still had his helmet on, it was easily the most feminine thing he had ever heard.

“Right, you’re an alien, you wouldn’t know. Basically, it shows what I am best at.”

The man’s head tilted quizzically. “So, you’re a pack beast?”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “No, I’m the best scavenger the Library has. No point finding supplies if you can’t bring them all back, right?”

Thomas nodded, agreeing with her logic. “So that’s what you were doing, scavenging?”

“One of our scouts found an old food store. The entrance had been blocked off before, but something moved the rubble. Probably an alicorn,” she added with a shrug. “Anyway, they sent me to pick up enough supplies so we don’t starve in two weeks.”

Thomas couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. “That is a big responsibility.”

“What we don’t eat, we trade for fresh food. Well, fresher,” she clarified. “That and meds. Always need RadAway and healing potions.” Moonbeam frowned. “Hope there’s a first aid kit in there, I think Sawbones said we were running out of bandages too.”

“Yeah, those are always - wait. RadAway?” Thomas reached into his duster and pulled out the day-glo orange packet. “You mean this?”

“What the hell is that?” the pony asked. “That’s not RadAway. RadAway has a straw, not a needle.”

“Wait, you drink RadAway here?” the man asked, his confusion growing. “You don’t pump it into your body?”

“What, no! It’s not like Hydra or Rage! You’re crazy.”

Thomas just stowed the RadAway in his duster. “Huh. Drinkable RadAway. That’s what crazy here,” he muttered.

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “Are you just gonna stand there?” she asked. “If you don’t want to sleep on the floor, you’re carrying the mattress.”

Thomas undid his helmet and pulled off the rebreather. “Fine. Might pick up a few books too. Maybe a map.”

“Yeah, sure. Just don’t break anything. Head Librarian Spectacle hates it when a book gets torn.”

“What’s the worst he could do?” Thomas asked with a smile as the mare led him away.

“Well, she could break your legs and throw you out the window. And that’s if you get food on the book,” the pony explained. “You don’t want to know what she’ll do if you set one on fire,” she warned.

“That’s... a bit excessive.” Thomas looked at the mare weirdly.

“Actually, seeing as it could be the last surviving copy in Equestria, it really isn’t.” Moonbeam shrugged. “I don’t exactly agree with it, but I don’t get a say in anything. I just collect the groceries.”

Thomas didn’t respond, happy to follow silently and and look around. The Library was definitely in good shape. There wasn’t any rubbish on the floors, the lights above were brighter than half of the ones in buildings he had gone into before his encounter with Benny, and the interior doors had even been repaired. It was a little hard for him to believe that this was a settlement in the middle of a ruined city.

His eyes roamed to one of the bookshelves they passed. All the titles were in perfect English, though he’d happily wager his helmet that it was called Equestrian here. Some of the titles were a little odd, such as ‘Advanced Magical Theory’ and ‘Applied Weather’, while others were a lot more mundane, like ‘Radio Repair for Beginners’ and ‘Radiation and You’. Many other titles adorned the shelves, but he ignored them as they approached their destination.

Sitting at a desk, glaring at a smaller pony that Thomas assumed was a child, was a female unicorn. Her coat was the colour of dust, her mane and tail a strange shade of purple that reminded him of dusk. What stood out to him was that not only was her mane done up in a bun, there were two short lengths of rebar going through it.

“Miss Spectacle?” Moonbeam asked as they approached. The child made a run for it the moment Spectacle looked up.

“That’s ‘Head Librarian’ to you, Moonbeam,” she replied sharply. “What are you looking for?”

“My... friend here is after a map, among other things.”

Head Librarian Spectacle looked at Thomas, eyes going wide. Then she smiled. “Moonbeam, could you tell me what something right out of the fiction section is doing standing in front of me?”

“Wait, what?”

“Fiction section?” Thomas asked, sounding unamused.

“Oh yes.” Spectacle got out from behind the desk revealing that, aside from a tattered blue dress she wore, her lower left foreleg was missing, somewhere between the knee and hoof. In its place was a table leg that had been cut down and reinforced with scrap metal. “You should find this interesting.”

As they followed her, Thomas leaned down a little. “How’d she lose the leg?” he hissed.

“Raiders, twenty years ago,” Spectacle replied. “I can hear every word you say,” she added. Thomas decided to keep his mouth shut.

A few minutes later, having gone through a few doors, they were in another room with bookshelves. The walls had once been painted in bright colours, the faded images of happy ponies prancing about still visible. On one of the walls was an old poster with the image of a unicorn, her colours long since lost to time, with a number of books levitating behind her. The words ‘Reading is Magic’ were barely legible.

“Wait here,” the head librarian instructed them. She was back within thirty seconds, a number of books floating behind her. “This is the one,” she said, a specific one moving towards Thomas.

He grabbed it and squinted as he tried to read the worn words. “‘The Menagerie of Mythical Monsters’?” he asked. “This can’t be good.”

As he flipped through the book, Moonbeam turned to Spectacle. “Okay. So what are those other books?” Then she saw one of the spines. “Oh fuck. Not that. Really?”

“What, don’t you like your namesake?” Spectacle asked, sounding genuinely hurt. “Besides, it’s fitting.”

Moonbeam grabbed one of the books. “It’s a fucking miracle, is what it is. I mean, what are the odds?”

“Odds on what?” Thomas asked, rejoining the conversation. “And what the hell is this about ritual sacrifice?” he added, pointing at the open page. “Maybe tribals, but every community I’ve been to doesn’t do that kind of thing. And cannibalism being a good thing?”

“Well, I always thought that would be wrong. I’d have been more concerned if it was accurate. Besides, that’s one interpretation.”

“And what is with this picture?” he asked, flipping the book around. The creature pictured could be called a human in the same sense that any four-legged creature could be labelled a pony. All the main features were there, but the details were completely wrong. The eyes were too far apart, the ears were monstrously huge, the mouth looked full of sharp fangs and the arms were so long the knuckles dragged along the ground, despite the ‘human’ standing completely upright. It was like looking at a cruel mockery of a man.

The head librarian sighed as she grabbed the book. “Like I said, an interpretation. One of several. The one in these books, for example - ”

“Oh Goddess,” Moonbeam muttered into her hoof.

“ - is a much kinder take.” One of the books behind Spectacle floated out as she glared at the younger pony.

Thomas reached for the book, but his hand paused inches from the cover. Smiling, he turned to Moonbeam. “Is that you on the cover?” he asked, snorting in laughter.

The book was titled ‘The Moonbeam Chronicles: Volume One’, and there was definitely a pony on the cover that had Moonbeam’s midnight-blue coat and powdery blue mane and tail. The only difference was that the Moonbeam on the book lacked a horn.

“Fuck off!” the unicorn snapped, snatching the book out of the air. “I got enough of that crap growing up. Don’t know why my parents decided to name me after that series...”

“Watch your mouth,” Spectacle reprimanded. “We don’t want foals picking up that kind of language.”

“Too fucking late!” a young voice cried out from the other side of the room.

Spectacle stormed off towards the source of the voice. “When I get my hooves on you you’ll wish you had never been born!” she screeched.

The panicked cry of “Oh shit!” was accompanied by a pair of smaller ponies running out the door at the far end of the room, Spectacle on their tails.

“Get back here!” The older mare disappeared with the rest of the books floating behind her.

Moonbeam let out a weary sigh. “We get in trouble when we hit somepony with a book...”

Thomas decided it would be best to ignore that little spectacle and opened the book. A few pages in, there was an illustration. There was the pony from the cover, and she was approaching something. It definitely had the same shape as a human, and even the face had all the features done in the right way. It was even clothed, albeit in something more fitting for a tribal. The only thing that was wrong was the brown coat of fur it had.

“That’s... huh.”

“The universe is fucking with me,” Moonbeam stated.

“So you were named after a character that met an alien, and you just happened to meet an alien?” Thomas asked, turning to the mare in confusion.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I know odds, this... this shouldn’t be possible.” Thomas slowly closed the book. “What the hell is going on?”

Thomas reclined against one of the walls of Private Reading Room 75, flipping through a surprisingly intact tourist’s guide to Manehattan. The only really vital thing was the fold-out map, but the rest of the book was surprisingly informative, giving the man an insight what the ruined city had once been like. From that, he had been able to take a few guesses as to where else a possible settlement was. So far, he had chosen the Statue of Friendship, just off Manehattan’s coast, and the city’s Ministry of Arcane Sciences’ hub as the most likely candidates.

It hadn’t been enough to take his mind away from the incredible series of extremely improbable circumstances that concerned his arrival. The word ‘miracle’ was a much more fitting word, that was for sure. The Transportalponder sending him to an alien world? One where they spoke and wrote perfect English? And the first native he met was one that happened to be named after a fictional character that travelled with an alien?

It certainly wasn’t the first time strange things had happened to him, but every one of those had in some way been Thomas’s fault, the result of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. The Sierra Madre, Zion, Big Mountain, each of those was because he had done something stupid. The Divide, well, that was different. He pushed those thoughts away, the less he dwelled on that the better.

The point was, this was beyond everything that had ever happened to him before, and that made him nervous. Why was he in Equestria? Had something been responsible, or was it just the most unbelievable series of flukes to ever happen? Given how temperamental half of the Big Empty’s technology was, both were equally valid possibilities. And if he had been brought here, why? Was he expected to get rid of every raider gang in the ruined city and help found a new nation, with the Library as its capital? He snorted at that, finding the idea of being another Chosen One ludicrous.

He wasn’t given any more time to dwell on the issue because Moonbeam happened to come back. “Stupid fucing council.”

“Hmm?” Thomas grunted.

“They won’t let me take anypony else to help! How the fuck am I meant to get the supplies if I run into any more raiders!?” The mare angrily flopped down onto her bed and sighed. “There’s no way I’ll get those supplies now.”

“Why can’t they send someone else?” Thomas asked, closing his guide and looking at the despondent pony.

“They’re either needed to help protect the Library, or scavenging themselves. And Pickup is in the infirmary injured too...”

“You have an infirmary?”

“We have an entire section dedicated to medical practices, surgeries and spells, of course we have an infirmary,” Moonbeam replied with a roll of her eyes. “All the beds and stuff were scavenged, but it’s probably one of the better ones in this city.”

Thomas nodded absently. “Back to the matter at hand, how about I come?”

“What?”

“You said you don’t want to go alone. You know I’ll keep you alive.”

Moonbeam glared at the man. “Only because you need me in your debt,” she stated bitterly.

“Not exactly.” He shrugged. “By getting food for this entire settlement, I’ll have the entire place needing to repay me.” Thomas sighed as he reached into a pocket within his duster.

The pony’s mouth hung open at she digested his statement. “Y-you - !”

“That’s not it,” he muttered, pulling out a bullet casing. “Where is it?”

“You want to hold everypony here hostage for what you want?” Moonbeam asked in disgust. “How can you be so heartless?”

“You think I enjoy doing this, being this much of a bastard?” Thomas snarled in response. “I have a city to get back to, one that needs a stable hand. People there need me.” Thomas turned to Moonbeam as he pulled his hand out. The mare flinched away instinctively. “I need this fixed if I ever want to get back home,” he said, carefully holding the Transportalponder out for her to see. “Do you know if anyone here has the skills to fix this?”

The unicorn leaned in cautiously, as though the man would decide to lash out and strangle her. When that didn’t happen, she looked at the strange device. “You said you needed something fixed earlier. What... does it do?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.“ Thomas replied. “It teleports me, from one place to another.”

“Then... how did you end up in Manehattan?”

“That;s not important,” Thomas replied, ignoring the mare’s question, stowing the broken Tranportalponder back into its pocket. “If no-one here can fix this for me, then I’ll simply use them to find someone who can. All that matters to me is getting home. Now, give me your gun,” he commanded. “I’m not helping you until I can be sure you won’t get killed because of that piece of junk.”

Author's Note

I am well aware of the potential shitstorm of introducing humans as some sort of myth/made-up creature. But aren't the ponies we know and love the same thing?

End of Act I: Thank you for visiting Manehattan

Same Shit, Different Wasteland

End of Act I: Thank you for visiting Manehattan

“Did you hear that?” Thomas asked quietly.

“I think so…” Moonbeam muttered. She turned her head, scanning the buildings for possible vantage points. The city was a sniper’s dream, especially if they had wings like a griffon. Raiders had taken potshots at her before, and it was near impossible to fire back without a rifle of your own.

“Okay, we’re about half an hour from Tenpony,” the man said. “If we hurry, we can cut that to, what, twenty minutes? Fifteen?”

“Probably. We need to keep - hurrk!” Thomas had grabbed her by her barding and pulled her into the shadow of a building. “The fuck!?” she choked out, rubbing her throat.

“I saw a flash in one of the buildings,” he explained. “A scope. Sniper.”

“Oh.” There was a snap and a crack as a large chunk of the masonry not far from them exploded into a cloud of gravel and sand. “Shit!”

“Was that gauss?” Thomas asked, pulling out the scavenged sniper rifle from his duster.

“Gauss?”

“Fucking magnets,” he growled.

“What are we gonna do now?” Moonbeam asked. “Wait the sniper out?”

“No, the bastard’ll have a nest up there. We need to take him out.” Thomas quickly reassembled the rifle with ease. “Moonbeam, can you give me some of your ammo?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” she muttered distractedly, opening one of her ammo boxes. “Just don’t take too many.”

“Shouldn’t need more than five rounds.” He quickly slotted the bullets into the magazine and loaded the rifle. “Moonbeam, can you levitate my helmet out there?” he asked, taking it off.

“Okay.” As she did that, Thomas walked slowly about twenty feet away. As his helmet left the cover the building was providing, the man stuck the rifle out and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long when his helmet fell to the ground with a new hole bored right through it. Half a second later, he fired a single shot and waited.

“Did you get him?” Moonbeam asked loudly, unable to see where he had fired at.

“Wait for it…” he said, seemingly following something with his eyes.

“Huh?” Moonbeam screamed when a body landed on the other side of the street, impaling itself right onto a piece of rebar that happened to be sticking up.

“Okay, that wasn’t planned,” Thomas said quietly. “Did that just happen?”

“Holy shit some warning would’ve been nice!” Moonbeam yelled, her heart trying to break her ribs as it pounded away.

Thomas ignored her as he stepped over to the body, scooping up his helmet. “Tch. Was hoping he’d miss,” he muttered as he inspected the hole. He put it back on and shrugged. “Oh well. Now then… Huh.”

“What is it?”

“Take a look at his armour,” he said quietly. “It looks… weird.”

As she got closer, Moonbeam had to admit that he was right. It looked like a bizarre hybrid of the Steel Ranger’s power armour and her own combat barding, with what appeared to be a small spark generator built into the back. From what she could tell, it was rigged to a small spell talisman, though what it was for she couldn’t tell. The unicorn was also wearing a helmet with a heavily-tinted visor and a strange antenna on one side.

“Hey? You okay?” a voice said suddenly. “If you don’t say anything we’ll have to investigate,” it said warningly.

“We’re about to have company,” Thomas muttered.

“Who was that? Shit, the shooter’s been compromised.” The voice from the helmet cut out in a blast of static.

“Great,” Moonbeam said as she looked around warily. “You were right about us being watched.”

“Stay quiet and hide,” Thomas muttered, looking around. “The sniper was in that building,” he said, pointing at the doors across the street, “we should be able to get in.”

“Good idea.” Moonbeam galloped over and pushed the door open, recoiling as a pair of guns opened fire from inside. “Shit!”

“He must have activated the security system.” Thomas stepped past and pointed his revolver in. Before he could fire, though, Moonbeam emptied her magazine into the room. “Really?”

“You said you need to conserve your ammo,” she pointed it reloading her SMG. “I don’t need to.”

“Fair enough. Did it work?” he added, poking his head around. “Nope,” he said as a barrage of bullets tried to ventilate him.

“Do you have any pulse grenades left?”

“Ceiling’s too high,” he pointed out. “Too much of a risk, trying to time it right.”

“Stupid pre-war architecture. Well what are we gonna do?”

“Surrender.” Man and mare turned around to see three unicorns looking at them. Their armour was the same as the dead sniper’s, and their weapons had a very familiar boxy shape to them.

“Oh fuck,” Thomas muttered.

“Surrender?” Moonbeam asked. “You’re all crazy.”

The unicorns looked at each other before pointing their weapons at Moonbeam. “I dunno, from where I’m standing I reckon you are.”

“Guys, guys, we’re all adults. Let’s talk this out like adults,” Thomas said, nudging Moonbeam back. “The way I see it, here are your options.” He cleared his throat. “Number one: Fuck you I’m the Courier.”

The head unicorn tensed. “Really? You too?”

“Look, a few hours ago I killed two Steel Rangers and put the rest out of action,” Thomas said, dropping the jovial tone. “You do not want to fight me.”

The unicorn scoffed. “Those relic-hoarding rustbuckets?”

“Look, how about you tell us who sent you and why? Huh?” Thomas asked, casually drawing his Sequoia. “That way, my friend and I can be done with this crap.”

“Your actions have set back our plans in the region by months. An entire war camp, destroyed!”

The man blinked. “Did I piss off Caesar again?” he muttered.

“If we can’t take you alive, then we’re to bring back your head.”

“And you plan on doing that with energy weapons?” Moonbeam pointed out. “Hope you brought a jar.”

“Enough of this!” one of the other unicorns said loudly. “We’re here for a reason, are we not?”

“Of course.” The lead unicorn cleared his throat. “Will you come quietly?” he asked Thomas. “Or will we have to - ”

“Fuck you, I’m the Courier,” he said calmly as the unicorn dropped, a fresh hole in his neck. He was forced to jump to the side when the other two opened fire, filling the space he had just vacated with pink beams

Moonbeam jumped in the other direction. “What now!?” she yelled, hiding behind a pillar.

“Kill them!” Thomas yelled back, behind a pillar of his own.

“No shit!” she yelled back, blind-firing with her SMG, the bullets bounced harmlessly off their armour.

Thomas stepped out from behind his cover and sent a blast of emerald fire and plasma in their direction. One of the unicorns screamed as the blast melted part of his armour. The second shot reduced him to a glowing green puddle.

As the remaining unicorn turned to reduce Thomas into ash, Moonbeam seized the opportunity. She crab-walked out and emptied both magazines of her battle-saddle at him.

The main difference between power armour and what he was wearing was that power armour sacrificed mobility to protect every part of the body, regardless of how non-vital it may be. Unfortunately, the unicorn’s legs had very little protection, allowing Moonbeam to cripple him.

“You will suffer!” he screamed as he pointed his laser rifle at her. Before he could fire, though, the underside of a boot met the side of his face.

“Yeah, no,” Thomas said, nudging the dazed pony with his boot. He watched as the unicorn tried to speak. “Damn, I broke his jaw,” he said angrily. “Now he’s useless.”

“Well, kill him so we can leave already,” Moonbeam said nervously. “Before more of them show up.”

“Hmmm…” Thomas rubbed his chin in thought. “Let’s see how bullet-proof you are, shall we?” he asked, picking up the unicorn by his armour.

“What are you doing?” Moonbeam asked. Thomas didn’t answer, instead bodily tossing the unicorn into the lobby they had tried to enter earlier. “Did you really need to do that?” she asked, cringing at the screams and gunfire.

“Saves us ammo,” he replied with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you just, I dunno, stomp his head in?”

“The blood would have taken ages to clean up,” he pointed out. “Now come on, before more of these idiots show up.”

“Hang on,” Moonbeam said, grabbing their laser rifles. “These should be worth a bit, right?”

“Probably. Now come on.”

Thankfully, the rest of their trip to Tenpony passed by peacefully. “Well…”

“So... is this where we go our separate ways?” Thomas asked Moonbeam.

“Looks like it,” Moonbeam replied as the pair towards one of the restaurants.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” he said. “It was fun.”

“Not sure that’s the word I’d use to describe assaulting a raider base, nearly getting killed by robots and watching you torture a slaver to death,” the mare muttered in response.

“Interesting, then,” the man shrugged. “Are you really sure we should split up?” he asked.

“This is about those weird unicorns, isn’t it?” she asked back. “Honestly, I think they were more concerned with you. Sure, my colours aren’t common, but they’re definitely not unique. I can hide easier.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Thomas replied, taking a seat at one of the tables. “Still, this whole thing feels wrong. And it proves that those raiders were anything but,” he added. “You heard what they said.”

“What can we do, though?” Moonbeam asked, leaning back in her chair. “We don’t know where they’re based. And I’m happy not knowing. I’m a scavenger, not a hero.”

“What if they attack the Library?” he asked pointedly. “They were willing to attack Tenpony, who’s to say they would have stopped there?”

Moonbeam just stared at his masked face. “You’re a dick.”

“So you’re going towards Dodge Junction?”

“Why you askin’?”

“Need to head that way myself,” Thomas replied, nodding calmly at the pony. “Need another gun?”

Author's Note

Be sure and tune in next time for the exciting continuation of Thomas's adventures in the Equestrian Wasteland!