Fallout: Equestria: Close Call

Chapters

3: In Which Means Are Found for the Ends, and A Mystery Wound
4: In Which Friendships Are Made, and Alliances Fragile
5: In Which Equinity is Discovered, and a Nation Deceived
6: In Which a Journey Lengthens, and Distraction Abounds
7: In Which a Friend is Lost, But Another is Gained
8: In Which the Plot Thickens, and Blood Thins
9: Home
10: In Which Roles Are Reversed, and the Innocuous Turns Imperative
11: In Which an Enigma is Wrapped in Mystery, and Bonds Torn Asunder
12: In Which Escapes are Great, and a Mystery Solved
Home
2: In Which a Rescue is Unwelcome, and an Innocence Lost

3: In Which Means Are Found for the Ends, and A Mystery Wound

Chapter 3: In Which Means Are Found for the Ends, and a Mystery Wounds

“Nec mortem effugere quisquam nec amorem potest.”
"No man is able to escape from death or love."
-Syrus, Maxims

Sixteen hours. Not even sixteen hours had passed since I’d stepped outside the grey walls of Stable 81, and already I have taken the life of another. Not a ghoul, not some random wasteland creature, but a living, breathing, thinking pony. Is this what the ruined husk of what was once Equestria holds for me? I’ve been beaten, kidnapped, attacked, and almost killed since stepping into the great outside, and there are no indications that the rest of my expedition will turn out any differently. Ponies out here don’t really live-they survive. Every day for these ponies is about nothing more than making it to the next day. I must say that my initial excitement is waning-my only savior being a thirst for knowledge; a thirst for the truth about what happened here and why, a thirst which must be quenched before I may return to my stable.
What more will it cost me, though?

* * *

“You look like you need a friend.” Repeated the tinny voice. This…machine, floating in midair through a combination of mechanical wings and what I assumed was magic, had no eyes that I could see; only a speaker on its face which it spoke through, but I could feel it watching me, waiting for me to answer. I just sighed, shaking my head, before hardening my stare and asking in what I hoped was a voice of authority and toughness, and not that of a barely held-together stable pony,

“Who are you? What do you want?” Maybe if I sounded serious and hardened, it would leave me alone? Not try and kill me?

No such luck, though-the thing just laughed in my face. An odd sound, considering the machine spoke with no intonation. “Well, Mr. Tough Guy, you can call me Watcher, and I want to help you.”

I snorted bitterly. “Yeah. Help. Like Sunny, who beat me unconscious and is holding me hostage? Or those ponies who tried to kill me earlier? Or maybe like those twins who want to do Celestia-knows-what to me? I don’t need your ‘help’. Now go away, or I’ll-“

“Kill me?” The spritebot interrupted, and I stammered while it continued. “I…heard about what happened in Falmalla. Not even two days out of the stable and you’ve had to kill somepony.” Believe it or not, the monotone voice still managed to sound…sad.

“I-it was an accident, I swear!” I countered, “I didn’t mean to-“

“To what? Defend yourself? As much as I hate to say it, sometimes…sometimes killing somepony is a necessity. An unfortunate one, but one nonetheless.” The bot seemed to dip, as if sighing. “There are few good ponies left anymore. I’ve met some, a couple recently, but the Wasteland erodes them to a point where they’re no better than the common raider. Either that, or they’re dead.” Somehow, I couldn’t help but agree. “But,” it continued, “if you have friends, ponies whom you can stand by, and who will stand by you, then together…maybe you could make things better.”

I nodded, drinking it all in. Friends? Well there was Insusurro, and…that was it, really. Sunny was more of a kidnapper than a friend, and I hadn’t really met many others yet; I would have to keep a lookout. But the little spritebot had a point-while the murder of ponies was deplorable and really only punishable by the harshest laws of the land, that pony had been himself trying to kill me. While certainly far from something I should constantly strive for, perhaps at times, especially in the Wasteland, taking a life was simply the only way to survive. Something suddenly struck me though… “Wait, how’d you know I killed somepony? Or that I came out of a stable?” I asked incredulously. The little spritebot responded with a musical number involving what I believe were tubas and at least one accordion, bobbing away into the night. Huh?

* * *

I can move my head.

The other ponies still argue about the shadows on the wall. There have been very few for quite some time-much less than before.

“There has been revolt!” Says one pony, “The slaves have overthrown their masters, but lost many in the struggle.”

“Foal!” Interjects another pony, “It is the masters who exterminated the slaves; that is why there are so few.”

“You are both wrong!” A third admonishes, “There has been famine or disease; that is why there are so few left!”

I listen to neither of them; as I said, I can move my head, and I am too busy moving it. I can see my hooves-they are still bound. But I turn my head, and I see a path. The path leads to a small light. I try to move towards it, but my hooves are bound by heavy chains. When I look up, there is a pony in front of me. Her hooves are not bound, and her gaze is stern. “Be
strong.” She says, as the light envelops everything.

* * *

“Well you certainly look chipper this morning. Finally pass that stick out of your ass?” Sunny said to me the next morning, sounding sarcastic yet looking confused. There was a ghost of a smile on my face-the first real one since I left the stable-and I was feeling better. Not good, mind you, but better than I had been. That had been a strange encounter with the spritebot last night, but that combined with…I guess I could call it a dream, as much as I could remember, I felt strangely better about things. Not good, I mean, I still knew in my heart that killing was wrong, but I wasn’t catatonic with guilt anymore. I just shook my head, stepping outside while she finished getting ready. It would be another day or so before reaching New Falmalla, apparently. I sighed, taking in the air as I looked around. Just as before, all that lay before me was a broken, dead Equestria. Few sickly plants grew, and the landscape was dotted with ruins. Now that I didn’t have a random mare beating me over the head with plywood or a crippling sense of shame, I had a chance to reflect, and to possibly get my bearings. My PipBuck’s map told me that we’d moved east from Stable 81, and had been heading north since Sukawaka, with a turn west at Falmalla, almost moving in a half circle until we were directly north of my old home. It was good that I had this to go by; there were stories of ancient Zebra tribes using the sun and stars to guide them in unknown lands-only problem with that was the ever-present cloud cover obscuring all but the most hazy view of the sky; I wondered if it ever let up? Looking south, I could see a great range of mountains, but not much else. I’d read once about Canterlot; had it survived the war? Given the state of the rest of Equestria, I could only assume it had been destroyed as well, sad a thought as it was. To the east a massive tower could be made out, if only barely. I didn’t know what it was, but I could tell that it would be in my best interest to stay away from there…and that I would most likely be paying it a visit in the future. To the west lay the ruins of a large city-Whinnyapolis, I assumed, and while I couldn’t see, I could hear what sounded like a pronounced churning. I smiled-there was so much to learn here! All that was in my way was a pony who wanted to sell me to ponies who wanted to…do something to me.

“Let’s roll.” Came the bored voice of Sunny from behind me. I followed her dutifully, keeping an eye out for enemies as yet another question bubbling to the tip of my tongue.

“Why Sunny?” I asked simply. “Why what? I told you, the megaspells destroyed everything and you are my ticket to a new life.”

She answered slowly, looking back at me with marked confusion. “No, I meant, why did your parents name you Sunny?”
Sunny stopped, blinked a few times, and just stared at me as if I’d grown a fifth leg. Wait, had I grown a fifth leg because of radiation? A quick check showed me that I still in fact had four legs, and I looked back up at her.

“Seriously?” she asked. At my lack of an answer, she replied simply, “Because of my bright and sunny disposition. What kind of a question is that?” She continued to walk, and I followed. “Why did yours name you…what was it? No Balls?”

“Close Call.” I offered, annoyed, “And I have no idea; they never told me before I left. It was just a question.”

“Yeah, a stupid one.”

* * *

As far as my eyes could see stretched the Whinnyapolis Ruins; a massive city whose scope I never would have thought possible. It was one thing to read about cities in books and stories, but…damn. It was almost as staggering as the realization that it had all been destroyed in a matter of hours. In the distance loomed the decrepit spikes of ruined skyscrapers, and to my right I could hear that churning again, the same sound I’d heard at the gas station. Now what in Luna’s name could make
a sound like that-

The sea.

To my right, and coming right up to the city itself was a marvel as odd, glorious, and terrifying as the open(ish) sky. An expanse of blue extending past the horizon. Before now, the most water I had ever seen in one place had been in a cup or a toilet, but this…this was alive.

My reverie was broken, however, by a small circle of cold steel pressed against the back of my head. “That’s enough sightseen’, No Balls. Let’s go.” Ah, yes. Business before knowledge, it seemed. I don’t know what that Watcher character was talking about friends, but somehow I didn’t think this was it. Sunny took the gun away from my head, but still kept it out as we approached New Falmalla.

New Falmalla wasn’t walled, per se, at least not walled by pony hooves. Considering the situation, there wasn’t really a point. New Falmalla wasn’t just a collection of old homes; it was a chunk of the city that some ponies had decided to call home. Quite a large chunk, it looked like. I couldn’t see much from here, though. I could, however, see two oddly similar-looking ponies in old business suits. I stopped, Sunny stopping beside me. “Gentlecolts.” She said with a nod. I just stood there, hoping their vision was based on movement.

“Sunny.” Said one.

“Always a pleasure.” Finished the other. They both smiled and nodded in unison. You know, they spoke separately, but I still couldn’t tell which pony was talking.

“We assume that-“

“-You’ve come to deliver-“

“-Our friend here?”

“We don’t want-“

“-Any trouble, dear Sunny.”

“Neither do we.” Sunny said simply, nonetheless keeping her firearm out and ready. The twins merely smiled that blank, unassuming, more than slightly creepy smile of theirs. “Yes…however, we are afraid-“

“That due to your…”

“…Uncouth actions last we met-“

“-We’ll be taking you as well.”

Our mouths dropped open in unison.

“We apologize-“

“-For any-“

“-Inconvenience.”

“No!” Sunny shouted, “No, you can’t do that! We had a deal!” Despite herself, her eyes betrayed more fear than anger as the twins just gazed on, smiling. “You won’t take me!” She screamed as the pistol came up. Guns were loud enough as it was without them being fired right next to your head! I closed my eyes and screamed, my own cries seemingly drowned out by gunfire.

“Dammit, Sunny! Sunny?” I called. There was a groan, and when I opened my eyes, it was as if I were back outside Stable 81. The twins were gone, and in their place were more ponies trying to kill us. Only difference was this time, Sunny was wounded on the ground, and it wasn’t ghouls attacking us this time. No, this time, we were being attacked by armed bandits. “Sunny!” I shouted as a very rough-looking pony with spiked shoes broke from cover to charge me. I leapt to the side as he halted, pivoting hard and throwing out a deadly hoofkick. Almost instinctively I ducked, my limbs almost moving on their own to hit the spots where his legs met his body with solid strikes. He crumpled on top of me, trying futilely to make his hooves do more than twitch, and me trying futilely to move out from under him. Sunny was trying her best to get up, still firing, but there was a lot of blood, and a lot more ponies to contend with. Through sheer luck and the ethereal help of a little orange pony in my mind I managed to wriggle out from underneath my opponent, who was gaining more and more feeling in his legs. A kick to his ilia stopped him from doing much more than sobbing, however, as I sped to Sunny’s side. “Hey! We have to get out of here, right now!” I shouted, trying my best to help me and her run…somewhere! She swatted me aside, gritting her teeth against the pain and blood loss.

“Close your eyes!” She shouted. Close my eyes? What was she talking-

“Ex virtute stellarum!” By the power of the stars! From Sunny’s horn erupted a blinding light, catching me-and more importantly, our enemies-off guard. While they staggered, shouting profanities and rubbing their eyes, it only took me a few seconds to blink away the multi-colored stars-the blast must have been directional. No time to think though; after her spell, Sunny finally collapsed!

No time to think, only to act. Take Sunny? Leave the pony that beat me unconscious and tried not once, but twice selling me to a deplorably creepy pair of twins? This would have to take a lot of thought; thought I was going to have to partake in while I bit down on her mane and dragged her…somewhere. Not fast enough, though-the others were recovering, and they would be on us in minutes. Damn it, I was a scholar! I wasn’t Maintenance or Security! Reading required only the strength to put on my glasses in the morning, nothing else! A little orange pony told me to be strong, that I could do this, that I needed to do this. With much grunting, groaning, and internal cursing, I lifted Sunny onto my back as gently as I could and half-trotted, half-stumbled toward the remnants of Whinnyapolis. Bullets ricocheted around us; they were catching up, and fast. Just a little farther… I thought, Just a need to get…in…here!

I ducked into one of many burned-out, bombed-out-looking buildings and watched as the bandits gallop by, cursing and firing into the distance. I let myself breathe for a moment, shifting the weight on my back to the ground. The weight grunted weakly, and I jumped. “Shit, hold on!” I panicked, fishing out a purple healing potion and pouring it down her throat. She coughed, and I poured another. The hole in her stomach slowly closed before my eyes, and her breathing became less ragged. She was still awfully pale-looking, but considering the amount of blood she’d lost before I was able to get her here…There wasn’t much more I could do but wait. I sighed, taking my brief respite to look around. We were in an old office building, “Robronco Administrative Headquarters-Whinnyapolis” according to the faded letters on the wall. The front desk was, amazingly, still intact, though held little in the way of salvage-a few caps and a coffee cup. Still, if ponies used bottle caps for money, then a cap saved was a cap earned, I guess. One of the two stairwells leading up was unblocked by fallen debris. I could even see an occasional light or two flickering upstairs. “How does this place have power…?” I muttered to myself. I jumped at the sound of gunfire outside; it wasn’t anywhere nearby, but damn, that sound sure carried. It did remind me of one thing I needed to do before exploring anymore; as carefully as I could, I dragged Sunny behind the front desk, hopefully out of sight of anypony else who might want to snoop around.

* * *

Who in Luna’s name secures an office building with robots!? Who!? “Halt, Zebra scum! Surrender and be annihilated!” Crackled out the synthetic voice, positively dripping with patriotic and murderous fervor. The thing looked like a weird spider; floating in the air with many legs on a round body, most of these “legs” ending in some sort of weapon. One shot red beams, another shot green ones, and there was even a flamethrower! Oh joyous day! I leapt into an empty office, barely dodging red and green lances of death as I rolled into the opposite wall. Farther down the hall I’d just escaped from lay my first, and so far only, attempt to disable a robot with my bare hooves. I’d had to hop on top of it and convince its buddy to fire at the both of us. Needless to say, I wasn’t in any shape to try and take out the other one. Everything had been fine until I’d gotten to the fourth floor; that’s when the robots had shown up. Some small, most likely insane part of me chimed that security meant there would be actual loot up here. No time to address said insanity; spiderbot followed me in, screeching more anti-zebra epithets and throwing red and green bolts all over the place. Oh, hey, flamethrower, welcome to the party! I dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged again, thanking Celestia and Luna on high that when it came to combat or life in general, I focused more on maneuverability than strength. I couldn’t keep this up forever, though.
Turns out I didn’t have to. My nostrils filled with the scent of cordite, and my ears were once again assaulted as several gunshots rapidly discharged into the floating monstrosity. It dropped, smoking and sparking, as Sunny stepped into the room.

“There’s more coming.” She said with a quick look back to the hallway, “Check that terminal-there might be a security shutdown command or something.” She still didn’t look too well, but I wasn’t going to tell her that right now. I could already hear the gentle hum of levitation talismans, as well as the slow, ponderous thumps of what could only be a different kind of bot. I could only imagine what those ones did, and didn’t want to find out, so when I saw the terminal Sunny was talking about, I went right to it.

It was locked.

“It’s locked, I need a password!” I told her. The noises were getting closer, now coupled with more exclamations of “Die, Zebra scum!” and “I love the smell of roasted bush meat in the morning!”

“Well then hack it! Aren’t you an egghead?!” She shouted back, her pistol barking and spent round clattering to the floor.

“I’m a linguist!” This only earned me a growl and a look of “If these things don’t murder us, I’m going to murder you”, so I sat down and began to work. If I remembered correctly, all I had to do was pick the correct password from a list of words. I had four tries before I would have to log out and try again; if I guessed wrong a fifth time, I’d be locked out for good. “Lesse…pants? No…docks? Really? Nope…tries? No…”

“Hey, take your time, it’s not like there’ murderous killbots trying to murder or kill us or anything!” Came a shout from the hallway. The shout was soon followed by a dry click, and “Fuck!”

“We have you now, you striped bastards!” Celestia’s grace, if I weren’t so terrified I’d be annoyed! “Shut up!” I screamed, slamming my hoof on the keyboard. There was a ping, and I was in! “Locks? Irony…” I muttered, selecting the “Disable Security Parameters” option and breathing a sigh of relief as the machines powered down. Sunny let out a breath as she stepped back into the room. “Well, that was a-“

“Don’t…” Was she really going to…?

“-Close Call.”

Ugh.

* * *

Other than the security shutdown, there wasn’t much else on the terminal. There was a command to open the safe under the desk, which yielded a few prewar bits, a few bullets for Sunny’s pistol, and a recording. I downloaded it to my PipBuck and hit play:

“If anypony hears this, this is Sprocket, Vice President of Robronco Public Affairs, Whinnyapolis Branch. The building is in lockdown after the latest Zebra attack. Per company policy, I have repeatedly attempted to contact the company HQ in Hoofington. Upon having received no answer from either them, or the Fillydelphia branch, I hereby assume authority as outlined in the Robronco Employee Handbook. Due to lack of basic supplies and shielding, I am lifting the lockdown and taking what ponies were in the building to the Ministry Of Arcane Science’s hub in Old Town. For liability purposes, I would like to note that there are non-Robronco employees amongst us, and they have agreed to this action and signed the proper forms in triplicate. Once there, I will…will…Sprocket’s voice became shaky, and I could hear her take a breath before continuing, “I’ll pray that the Zebras didn’t actually…they couldn’t have…”

The recording ended there, but I had quit paying attention halfway through it. “The MAS hub, of course!” I exclaimed. Sunny looked up at me, confused. She’d been setting up camp and cleaning her pistol; apparently we were staying here tonight.

“I think you’re the first stable pony I’ve met who knows about the ministries.” She said flatly.

“Ministries? There was more than one?” Sunny just shook her head, and I continued, “Stable 81’s records show that half of the funding for the stable was put forward by the MAS. Dunno why, even though one could assume our objectives fell under the term ‘Arcane Sciences’.” Her eyes were starting to glaze; it was an expression I had seen many times, mostly during my guest lectures in 81’s school. “Point is, if I can get there, I can probably get some answers about what happened.” I amended.

I was rewarded with a snort. “I told you what happened: the bombs fell, everypony died. End of story.”

“It’s not enough.” I countered, “I need to find out why it happened. We know nothing of what happened in or to Equestria after the sealing of the stable; I was tasked with finding said information, and that’s what I’m gonna do. I can’t just go back and tell them ‘shit’s fucked’. I can’t, and I won’t.” It was true. I knew what had happened; I’d known since shortly after coming out here, but I couldn’t just leave it at that. Whatever reasons those creepy, disappearing twins wanted me for-that was merely icing on the cake. Speaking of… “So where does that leave us?” I asked, “Still going to try and trade me for caps? Maybe third time’s the charm?” Was I being a tad vindictive? Only the Goddesses would know.

Sunny just shook her head, her eyes not meeting mine. “About that…I’m sorry. I’m spry I tried to turn you over to those two freaks. I should’ve known they’d welch.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now. Probably just trot into a feral nest or something. It’ll be better than if they caught me.”

“You could come with me.” I suggested. Sunny looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Seriously. From what I can tell, you’re dead anyway. You said I was the only thing keeping you alive. What do you have to lose? You also owe me your life, remember.” A little orange pony in my mind seemed quite put out at the last part. True, it may not have been the best way to ask for somepony’s help, but I needed her if I were to stay alive more than twelve hours.

“You’re right, I do…” She answered quietly, “And I don’t. This was my last chance…” Sunny drifted off, looking into the ether, eyes glistening. She sniffed, laying her head on her hooves. I just looked away, pulling my little orange friend out of my saddlebags. I needed a name for her…Appleflank? It was a nice one…

“Ow.”

“What?”

“I feel like somepony just kicked me.”

* * *

The next morning we were out and about, navigating through the ruined skeleton of a city. Well, we weren’t so much navigating as wandering in a general direction. It was slow going, streets more often than not being completely blocked by rubble. What wasn’t blocked by rubble was blocked by red bars on my E.F.S. I wasn’t the best at fighting (nor did I have the desire), and Sunny really didn’t have the ammunition for another prolonged firefight. Or any firefight, really. One never realized how useful all those little features were until they needed them. Sunny, it turned out, had never actually been this deep into the city ruins; the farthest she’d ever gotten was New Falmalla.

“I’m from New Pegas, originally.” She’d said when I asked her. “Played a little too hard, pissed off the wrong ponies, tried to come up here to escape…didn’t work.”

“New Pegas?”

“A city way south of here. Gambling town, why?” She looked at me, then at my PipBuck. “Are you fucking recording this?” She demanded, sounding more than a bit offended. I just nodded.

“Of course,” I explained, “I told you, I want to know as much as I can, past and present. Even in my stable I record everything. Don’t want something important to be lost to something as erratic and unreliable as memory!”

Sunny just glared at me, and I hit the “stop” option on my recorder. Sunny nodded, turned around, and resumed walking. “Put on some DJ PON-3; I need some music right now.” She was angry, I could tell. Why she was angry, however, was a mystery to me. It was just a recording-I’d recorded the rest of our conversations, the few of those we’d had, at least. I wasn’t going to tell her that part, though. Nor was I going to tell her the next time I began taking my oral notes on postwar Equestrian life. I ignored the little orange pony in my head as I asked, “DJ who?” Another glare. “I swear, I’m not recording, I just have no idea what you’re talking about.” I responded, waving my hoof. The glare didn’t subside; Sunny merely turned around spoke to me over her shoulder. “What do you think? He’s a DJ-runs a radio station out of Tenpony. That thing does pick up radio stations, doesn’t it?” I looked down, scrolling through my PipBuck screens until I found the broadcast menu. The only radio frequency I’d ever had to save was the Stable 81 broadcast. If we had felt so inclined, we could have tuned in for some ethnic Zebra music or tidbits of Zebra culture or history. I was out of its range now, but there was one frequency which I could reach. I tuned in, and immediately wished there was a volume control.

“Good morning, Post-Apocalyptia!” Boomed a deep, masculine voice from my speaker, echoing across the wastes, full of energy and spirit. He went on, not losing any of his…mojo, I guess? “How’re y’all doin’ today? Aside from the radiation, raiders, gangs, ghouls, and what have you? Seems we have-you guessed it-a bit of news! Now I know I don’t talk about our Northern neighbors in Whinnyapolis a lot, but hoo-ee, has there been a development or two for you folks! Now, most of you aren’t probably old enough to remember the last time they showed their identical heads; but for those of you who are, or for those of you who want to live relatively horror-free for the rest of your lives, the Twins are back. But yet, a ray of sunshine for your Average Joe Pony: they appear to have made their appearance after a certain pony appeared…out of a stable! Yes, fillies and gentlecolts, we have yet another stable pony out and trottin’ around-with two creepy stallions hot on his tail! Keep a lookout for Mr. Egghead, and if you see him, head the other way! If y’all need any more incentive, he’ll be traveling with a certain unicorn we all know and love. And kid, if you’re listening, good luck-you’ll need it. And Sunny, if that’s you with him, I’ll see ya in hell. That’s all for now, my little ponies! This is DJ PON-3, giving you the truth…no matter how bad it hurts.”

I looked at my companion, holding up my hoof while my PipBuck began to play some song I wasn’t paying attention to. “What did you do to these ponies?” There was also the stuff about how we were to be avoided, which definitely didn’t help things along; what had I gotten myself into?

“He started it.” Was all she had to say. I opened my mouth to argue, but she silenced me. “Did you hear that?” Sunny whispered. I shook my head, but looked at my E.F.S. anyway, and shut off my radio. There were a ton of red bars, and now that I wasn’t listening to the DJ, I could hear gunshots to our right. They looked alike they were grouping around something.

“Looks like a bunch of raiders or something shooting each other. Nothing to be worried about.” I said quietly. I looked at my E.F.S again, but this time, I saw what they were grouping around: a single white bar. “There’s somepony there; friendly.” I noted, “Come on, let’s keep going. They’ll be able to distract them long enough for us to get away.”

Sunny wasn’t paying attention-at least, not to me. She’d climbed up over the remains of yet another city building that had fallen to its side sometime in the past two hundred years. “Not somepony,” She called down to me, “It’s a Zebra.” I almost tripped scrambling up beside her. Zebra? Out here? Improbable, but so was a pony being so mutated by radiation they turned into a zombie. And yea, verily, so it was, there was in fact a Zebra locked in a firefight with some very deadly-looking ponies. I couldn’t really see her; she was using a park bench as cover, popping out to fire the occasional red beam of energy. Her attackers, however, I could see very well. There were three of them left, and they were closing in.

These were what Sunny and DJ PON-3 must have meant by raiders. Their barding looked like leather, only…not. It was cobbled together, patches sewn hastily together, with what looked like blood seeping out of the stitching. I could almost swear one of the patches had a cutie mark on it. Cutie Mark levitated a rusty pistol, her friend a shotgun, and another had…was that a rocket launcher? “So are we leaving or are we helping?” Sunny asked, and for me the answer lied in the whoosh of a rocket, and the concussive blast that resulted from it hitting the Zebra’s cover. I saw a black and white shape go flying, and I was scrambling down the other side of my cover. Sunny followed soon after, pistol barking. Shotgun went down with one in the brain, and Rockets dove out of the line of fire. Cutie Mark stood her ground, though, and fired back. I leapt aside and inside her range-or so I thought. As I prepared to kick, the pistol swung around, and the only thing that kept my brains on the inside of my skull was the condition of the weapon. It jammed, and I kicked it out of her rotten teeth. Two rounds in her chest, courtesy Sunny, put her down.

Another whoosh, another explosion, this one right behind me! I flew forward, landing hard on the hard scrub of what used to be a garden. I could barely hear Sunny curse as another missile whooshed past her. It was alright, though; all I had to do was get inside his range and he couldn’t shoot me! Too bad my legs were jelly, as was the rest of me at the moment. Did getting blown up do this to everypony? I looked up-turns out I was about to find out again! He took aim, and promptly turned to glowing ash. I blinked, looking over at Sunny. “Another special talent you didn’t tell me about?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Ask your friend. ‘S what happens when you hit somepony in the right spot.”

I looked to the small row of benches, one having been decimated by Rocket. The last white bar was behind the other benches-hopefully it would stay that way. If he really was a Zebra… “Satin salue? Quaeso egredi, quaeso!” I called, taking a slow step forward.

“What the fuck are you saying?” Sunny asked, trotting up beside me.

“I’m trying to get her to come out, now hush.” I said, taking another step forward as she nickered.

The beam burned a clean hole through my right ear. I froze, the shock of how close I’d just come to death overriding the pain.

“Kuondoka! Mimi kamwe somo kwa sheria ya Kirumi!” shouted a voice; feminine, but deep and melodic, even with the angry shouting. Before I could stop her, Sunny was firing again, the shots pinging off of the concrete.

“Stop!” I yelled, glaring at Sunny before looking back towards the bench. “Mimi wala kuwakilisha himaya au ng'ombe wake. Je kuzungumza Kiingereza?”

A striped head poked out over the lip of the bench, eyeing us warily. There was a scar that ran diagonally across her face. Her mane was black, and longer than Sunny’s, and her ears were adorned with gold jewelry. She glared at us with deep blue eyes, more so at Sunny than at me. “You don’t represent the Empire’s cattle?” she asked. Sunny laughed, and I just coughed.

“Well at least you speak Pony. I’m sorry; I meant to say I didn’t represent the Empire or her interests. I’m a bit rusty on non-Roaman dialects. We don’t want to hurt you.” The zebra glared at my companion again, eyes narrowing.

“She shot at me.”

* * *

“So what’s your name?” I asked as we picked through the remains of the raiders. Sickening work, but I found that so long as I thought of it as an archeological dig I could keep from vomiting. The zebra had eventually come out from behind the bench. She carried nothing but a scoped beam rifle slung with rope so that it hung at her side. Perhaps she scavenged as she traveled? My ear throbbed, but I had been right about the number of potions we had-it would be smarter to save them for more grievous injuries.

“I am called Oya.” She said simply. We were…collecting together; Sunny was scavenging the other raiders. “Tell me, if you are not a part of the Empire, how do you speak our languages, pony?”

“I’m head of the Linguistics Department in Stable 81. Your language and culture is my whole life. I’ve literally been studying Zebra dialects almost as long as I’ve been walking.” I answered brightly. Of course I was recording this entire conversation; this was too good to pass up! I was almost giddy with excitement. I hadn’t felt this good since Parum showed me her cutie mark! “Close Call, at your service. My friend here-“

“I’m not your friend.” Came a response from the other side of the park.

“Fine. My companion here’s name is Sunny. But enough small talk; I want you to tell me everything! Where are you from? Are you from the Empire, a client state, or was your family native to Equestria? Where is your family now? Are your parents nearby? Perhaps a village? Ooh, do you-“

“Enough!” Oya shouted angrily, and suddenly I was staring down the barrel of what had been the pinnacle of Equestrian weapons technology. My smile, as well as about half of my giddiness disappeared immediately. “Huwezi kusema ya familia yangu kwa njia hiyo! You will not speak of my family in such a way!” she growled, “I thank you for helping me, Close Call of Stable 81, but I aren’t here for your entertainment, pony. I am on a mission, and I will not fail. Are we clear, Close Call of Stable 81?” I nodded slowly, afraid to move any more than that.

“Might I ask what mission that is?” I asked softly.

The rifle lowered, but the glare remained. It was as if she were sizing me up, trying to discern any hidden intent before speaking. “I seek two ponies; twins. I last tracked them in a town not far from here when I was attacked. Once we are done here I shall go there and face them. You will not follow. Are we clear, Close Call of Stable 81?”

I smiled, sensing an opportunity. “You know Oya…if we’re talking about the same set of twins; I might have a more exact clue as to where you can find them.” I mused. Her expression was stone, and I went on: “They’re after us. Me, in particular. Sunny, because she keeps shooting at them. Come with us, and they’re bound to show up eventually. At least, more reliably than if you go looking for them.” Oya backed down, and Sunny just coughed.

“They started it.”

* * *

“So you are sure that they will appear, Close Call of Stable 81?” Oya asked as we carefully trotted along yet another broken street. We must have stumbled upon a suburb of sorts; the ruined buildings around us were lower-no more skyscrapers. Either that, or the area had been had been particularly targeted by Zebra attacks. Streetlights, at least, the ones that were still standing, flickered weakly in the decaying sunlight, somehow still powered by an unknown source. A radroach skittered across the street, stopping when Sunny’s bullet punched through its carapace.

“Last one; hope your plan works, kid.” She said with finality. It’d been hours since the raiders, and so far we hadn’t come across any more ammunition or food of any kind-that last radroach would have to do until…well, until we starved to death, I guessed. I’d asked Oya about using her beam rifle, but turned out her last charge had been used to put a hole in my ear. I grimaced; radroach wasn’t as delectable as Sunny made it out to be.

“Well, in the three or four days I’ve been out here, they’ve shown up twice. So, yeah, I’m sure.” I said, checking my E.F.S. for any more red bars-damn, this thing was useful. “And really, Close works just fine. Mr. Call, if you’re feeling overly professional. All we need to do is keep heading north to the sea; if there aren’t ponies there, friendly ones, then awesome. If not, you said New Falmalla’s a fishing town, right?”

Sunny nodded, putting the harvested roach in her saddlebags. “Yes, but at this point, I have no idea how to get there. Doesn’t that thing on your wrist have a map?” She explained around a mouthful of radroach guts. Ew.

“We didn’t get close enough for it to register, apparently. Look, if New Falmalla fishes, then there must be fish elsewhere in the sea, right? We head to the sea, we get some fish, and we all have a bene noctem.” I explained, looking at my map just in case. While there was no sign of New Falmalla, there were a few more essentially pointless locations that had been added. There was the Robronco building, and the Fallen Ponies Memorial Park, where we’d met Oya. Nothing else yet, though. And from the way the landscape around me looked, that nothing would continue for quite some time.

* * *

“Stable 81 Expedition Log; Entry…shit, I don’t even know anymore. I really should have started numbering these logs a while ago. I should’ve bought more food in Sukawaka. I should’ve just let Oya fend for herself. Should’ve just missed Parum’s party…no, I don’t mean that. It was the happiest I’d ever seen her; the happiest I’d ever been in quite some time. No, if there’s one thing I’ve done right, it was seeing my sister celebrate a new stage in life.

“It’s been five days since we picked up Oya. Four days since we ran out of food. Three since we ran out of fresh water. I can barely speak; much less make a log entry. Sunny said that she doesn’t understand-from New Pegas, to Friendship City, to Fillydelphia…there’s always been something. But here…it’s as if when Equestria died, Whinnyapolis followed suit. What I don’t understand is how we got lost…heading north should have taken us to the sea. But…we were ambushed, turned around…but I have a compass! It tells me where to go!

“But even now, it doesn’t matter. Sunny’s gone to try and find…something-anything, and Oya…Heh, she was skinny when we met her, but now…she closed her eyes, and now I can’t get her to talk to me, in any language. If anypony finds this, and cares enough to listen to it…chances are you’re from 81, and you need to go back there. Mom…Dad…Parum…I love you. This is Close Call, Department Head, Linguistics and Literary Studies, Stable 81, saying…shit’s fucked, everypony.”

Level Up!
Perk Added: Silver Tongue-If you weren’t so good with language, you’d probably be dead right now, and you’ve learned to use it to get what you want. +5 points to Speech, as well as special dialogue options with Zebras

Author's Note

Holy spider monkeys, Batman, it took awhile to get this one out there, and I am afraid that is not where the bad news ends. First, however, I would like to thank any returning readers, as well as all of you who favorited and followed this story; you guys really help keep me going! And to any new readers I may be attracting: welcome, and thank you for reading! I do apologize for the chapter's lateness. Quite frankly, it's not quite what I wanted from it, but I've been on a bit of a brain fry lately. Partially because of Brave New World (which is flippin' sweet), but because of other things.

And that's where the bad news comes in. Chapter 4, while I shall try and start it soon, will most likely not be published until early to mid October. This is due to what we call in my line of work a "Field Exercise", which will last until the end of September. If you're confused, just imagine camping, only without fun. Or sleep. Anyhow, point is, I shall try my very best to get as much of Chapter 4 done as possible before I leave. If I finish, awesome; but I'm not going to rush it and give you all something haphazard.

Whew, that was a lot of typing. So, per usual, thank you Kkat for this wonderful world I try not to mess up too much, as well as all of you other FOE writers out there; comments and criticism, good and bad, are always much appreciated-seriously, if I'm doing something iffy, please tell me! Otherwise, everypony have a fun read, and I'll see you all later!

-Z.I.A.T.

4: In Which Friendships Are Made, and Alliances Fragile

Chapter 4: In Which Friendships Are Made, and Alliances Fragile

“De fide et officio iudicis non recipitur quaestio.”
"No question can be allowed concerning the faith and duty of the judge."
-Unknown

There was no more pain.

I wasn’t long out of the stable, and something told me I would be out of it much longer than I’d previously thought, but already I’d felt pain. I’d been shot, beaten, and shot again. My body already ached from travel; lack of sleep combined with the walking-so much walking-didn’t do wonders for a pony that’d spent his life sitting at a desk and reading. And then there was the pain in my stomach, trying to alert me, to remind me that yes, Close Call, ponies do need to eat on occasion. But I’d ignored the pain the best I could, until eventually, the pain stopped. It felt…nice. It kept my other pains at bay.

* * *

“Drink, Brother.” Gently commanded the hooded pony. I sipped on a canteen; when I’d try to take a full drink, she’d taken the canteen away. She took turns passing the canteen between us-me, and my traveling companions Oya and Sunny. We were holed up in yet another burned-out, bombed-out building somewhere in the Whinnyapolis ruins. Based on the formerly glass-covered countertops and registers, it must have been some sort of store. Should’ve figured it hadn’t been a grocery store. When we’d come in here, we had been a bit too preoccupied with slowly dying of hunger and thirst to look around and say for sure. We’d collapsed near the entrance. Sunny had somehow found the strength to leave-I’d thought she’d finally given up and abandoned me. Turned out, she’d gone to look for help, and had found it in a passing Purity Sister. Said Sister was now slowly nursing us back to health, at least enough so we could travel. I felt a bit better, still hungry, but no longer at death’s door. “Once you and your friend are stronger, I’ll take you to Harbor. There you can get the help you need…if you have the caps, of course.” She said, passing the canteen back to me.

“How, uhm, Sister?” I asked, setting the canteen down after a few sips. “We were going north the entire time, and never even hit the sea. At least, I think we were…”

“Were you following the sea?” She asked, a visible smile appearing on the little part of her face I could see, “Or the Tower?”

“No, I was following my compass.” I said, wondering the hooded sister was going with this. She nodded knowingly before nursing Sunny. “A PipBuck compass, or any compass for that matter, will not work here. If you are new to this city, you need only know that the sea is always North; the Tower, always East. Many a traveler has died trying to navigate through here, just as you three very nearly have. Just like I nearly did.” The last part she added quietly, as if it were more to herself than to any of us. I just nodded. “Water is north, Tower is east. Got it.” I noted, and then added, “Where exactly is that tower?”

Even robed, I could see the mare shiver. “We in the Brotherhood and Sisterhood of Purity dare not speak its name, lest we find ourselves drawn to it…” she said quietly, “But…in order to assist those who are lost…the Tower, Shadowbolt Tower, lies to the East, in the Dark City. Some say Canterlot is death, that entering that poisoned city is suicide. However, while it will give you a relatively quick death, the Dark City is a slow poison; of a pony’s body, and of her soul.” Sounded interesting; but it only reaffirmed the feeling I’d gotten when I’d first caught glimpse of it. Canterlot sounded like a readily available source of information as well. The Sister was probably just speaking out of supersttion-we’d planned for situations like this before I set out from 81. I let the matter slide-no point in upsetting my savior, right? Instead I stood up, still feeling slightly woozy. Nonetheless, from what I had experienced, the Wasteland didn’t have free medical care, and every bit count. A thought struck me. ”Hey, you have any caps, Sister?” I asked as the cash register gave a chime and opened. Four bits, nice.
“It is a truly sad day when somepony is saved, only to turn around and resort to the evils that plague our land…” she answered, “I am afraid that I do not have much; just what is in my bags, and the clothes on my back. I wish I could give you the moon, but alas, it is not to be.”

I shook my head, trying my best not to smile. “I’m not robbing you. A Brother in Sukawaka wanted me to deliver a message to a Sister in New Falmalla. I figured you’re a Sister near New Falmalla, so if you had caps, I was just gonna hand it over to you.”

“What is it?”

I reached into my saddlebags, and pulled out the small package, setting it on the ground. “Looks like a holotape.” I said, poking at it with my hoof. The Sister turned to me, then to the package. “Thank you Brother; I shall see that you receive payment when we arrive in Harbor.” She said, sounding relieved that we weren’t going to try and mug her. Honestly, Sunny and Oya had no ammunition, and all three of us were still half-dead from starvation and thirst; what in the name of the Goddesses were we going to do? Of course, those raiders hadn’t seemed too well-fed, and in the absence of bullets had no problem trying their damnedest to pummel a pony to death with their bare hooves.

I looked at my companions, blinking a few times. While Oya had been essentially naked the entire time we’d known her, this was the first time I had seen Sunny not obscuring her flank with her saddlebags. I didn’t know why; it wasn’t anything weird or embarrassing. Against her brown hide lay a golden bolt of lightning-no cloud, it wasn’t like Butcher’s-just a single bolt of light. Given the spell she’d used to escape at New Falmalla, I wasn’t surprised. I was, however, surprised that she would hide it like she did. I made a mental note to ask about it later; in the stable, we earned our marks through schooling and exposure to almost all the different departments, and I wondered how ponies earned their cutie marks in the Wasteland.

Speaking of…now that I had a chance to actually look at her, I had to contain a resurgence of giddiness. A glyphmark, a real glyphmark! If I had said it once, I’d said it a million times-a picture was one thing, actually seeing it? Score! Oya’s mark, like all Zebra glyphmarks, wasn’t so much a solid image, but a sort of rearrangement of her stripes. Hers were arranged in a spiral, like a whirlpool. What did that mean? How did she get it? More and more questions, all which had to wait to be answered later, sadly. We needed actual food and rest, and I needed to move on with my expedition. Oya needed the twins, and Sunny…Sunny needed to try and get a life back, I guessed. “Are we ready to go?” I asked the room. Oya nodded, and
Sunny just stared ahead; I took that as a yes.

* * *

Harbor, as a settlement, was akin to New Falmalla, as well as what I assumed most settlements here were like. It was carved into the city; with ponies merely occupying the broken structures, as opposed to tearing them down and building their own. “Stable 81 Expedition Log: Firstly, I need a new name for these; it’s getting to be a mouthful to say every time.” I said into a microphone, attached to my PipBuck by a small wire. I paused for a thought, and then added, “All proceeding logs will be referred to as S.T.E.E.L.s, for time and ease of recording. Now, the settlement of Harbor is, literally, the remains of a Whinnyapolis harbor, set in what appears to have been an industrial sector of the city prewar. Judging by the buildings and the size of the remaining docks, I posit that these docks were for freight, with the warehouse ponies settling and building homes around said warehouses. From what I can see, the bulk of Harbor consists of four of these large warehouses positioned side by side behind the docks, as well as some commercial development further inland. The easternmost warehouses’ roof is mostly missing; it serves as a market for the settlement. The frame for the roof is intact, however, and it appears the residents use a heavy canvas covering for rainstorms. The inside is divided into sections using whatever’s available, mostly wood, in some cases entire shelters are assembled in such a way. Though I haven’t yet been inside, I presume the other warehouses are used for, well, housing. Ponies in Harbor take a working boat and fish the sea; if I can, I’ll investigate how they found or retrofitted their vessel. On a related note, ponies here seem to have a disturbingly high-protein diet. Perhaps I’ll give fish a try?” With that, I turned off the recorder and stowed my microphone. I was sitting at a table outside of one of the stalls, which an enterprising pony had turned into a café. No coffee or tea here, though; just slightly irradiated water, Sparkle-Cola, and something called Sugar Apple Bombs. The water was, well, water, but I would have to take careful precautions not to bring anything like the cola or breakfast cereal back to Stable 81; it would cause a riot. The only way to be safe was to ingest as much of it as I could. I was feeling much better now that I had food in my stomach. The Sister had departed for New Falmalla after making sure we safely arrived, after paying me, of course-the Gelders kept a small stash of caps in the city for such occasions. I planned on resting here a few days, then heading out to the Ministry of Arcane Sciences hub, after getting a solid idea as to where it was this time. I prayed to the Goddesses that somepony knew; I couldn’t rely on a random pony that was willing to help happening by while I starved to death more than once. I sipped on my glass of Sparkle-Cola, taking in the sight of the post-apocalypse.

There were steps behind me. “Hey…” came a voice. I turned around, and behind me stood a very empty-looking, very drunk-smelling Sunny. I made a mental note to study just how alcohol kept for two centuries as she cleared her throat and my nostrils were assaulted by the smell of…was that licorice? She continued anyway despite my lack of an answer and
cringing nose each time she spoke. “You wanna know somethin’, No Balls?”

“Close Call.”

“Whatever. You wanna know somethin’? Of course you do. You always wanna know somethin’. It’s what you do, right? You know things. You want to know more things. It’s annoyin’, is what it is.” She sat down hard beside me, snatching away my Sparkle-Cola with her magic before I could stop her. She took a sip, and grimaced. “Fuck. Shoulda figgerd you wouldn’t drink, No Balls. You wanna know somethin’? Yeah you do. You wanna know everythin’. It’s why you record it, you invasive li’l bastard.” She said…again…with a chuckle. “You wanna know what I do? I fucking run. I. Fucking. Run. I run and I drink, and I drink and I run. I was runnin’ when you showed up. I was runnin’ when I came to Whinnyapolis. Well ya know what? You wanna fucking know what? Of course you do; you always fucking do. ‘S wha’ you do you know things an’ you wanna know things. Well ya know what? I’m fuckin’ tired. I don’ wanna run no more. I don’ wanna! Bu’ I have to. I have to ‘cuz if I stop they’ll find me an’ if they fin’ me they’ll kill me. Or worse.” Sunny laughed darkly, and finished off the rest of my cola. “So now I’m run..runnin’…runnin’ again. Runnin’ with yew. Fuck. Runnin’ with the Egghead. Fuck, mebbe I’ll learn somethin’, runnin’ with the Egghead. Fuck.” And with that, she was finally finished; at least, I thought she was. Vomiting all over my lap and passing out in it sure signaled the end of the one-sided conversation to me.

You know, I’d always sought a bit of fame. At least, I had in my stable. Hell, even accepting this expedition had partly been due to the fame it would bring me upon my return. Granted, it was also because Deduc Indagator, a not-bad looking mare in any sense, had asked me so sweetly to find out what happened to our reports, but somewhere deep inside was the call for recognition.

This kind of fame wasn’t what I’d imagined, much less wanted. Strange, I never knew so many ponies in this barren shell of what used to be a nation listened to the radio. I didn’t even know there were that many working radios! There was at least one in Harbor, however, and everypony in the place had heard the latest bit of news, and as soon as the words “Dammit, Sunny!” had left my mouth, apparently I wasn’t welcome. Not kicked out, mind, but yea, verily, there was a great closing of doors and shuttering of windows, and ponies suddenly had important business elsewhere. There was a final slam and a grunt as Oya was thrown out of a store, landing hard on her rump in the street. She stared at us; me, standing underneath a threadbare awning, my rear legs and crotch covered in vomit, and Sunny, passed out beside me, her face covered in vomit. Oya blinked, and I sighed. “Yeah, you came after that. You know how I said that those twins were after us, and were bound to show up eventually?” She nodded. “Well, turns out not everypony’s as happy about it as you were.”

“It could just be the sick all over ya.” Stated a gentle rasp. I turned around, and was greeted by a smiling blue buck that had to be at least three times my age. His features crinkled and wrinkles deepened as his smile grew. He had a little white mustache, the same color as his mane and tail. A pair of round spectacles adorned his flank, almost identical to the pair he wore. When he spoke, his voice, though carrying a slight rasp of age, still had the strength and even tone of somepony my age; the familiar rattle and broken lilt of other ponies his age was absent. “My building has one of the few working showers in this city. No hot water of course, but I’m sure right now you’ll take just about whatever you can get. Come along now.” He said before turning around and trotting towards the far exit of the warehouse to the outside. I wanted to call out after him, to ask him what his game was, and why he was willing to help us when nopony wanted anything to do with us. All I could do, though, was grab Sunny by her tail and try my best to follow. Oya trotted along next to us, her blue eyes and small smile betraying only amusement.

* * *

Turns out my previous assumptions had been wrong; not all of the other three warehouses were residential. The last one in the row had been converted into a massive museum of all things Equestria. There were massive, old paintings of the Princesses Celestia and Luna on the far wall, nearly taking up the entirety of it, with many smaller pictures and portraits surrounding them. The floor was filled with a variety of exhibits, everything ranging from a pony-pulled train car to an actual Equestrian Army tank! How he got that in here, I would probably never know, but I damn sure wanted to find out! I had been raised on everything Zebra, mostly Roaman, with only a scant background in anything Equestrian. I had a very real, very honest feeling that I could spend the rest of my natural life in here. I turned around and around, trying to look at everything at once, my previous exhaustion from dragging my comatose companion from one side of town to the other, forgotten.

But alas, there was business to be done, as indicated by a friendly, if impatient, clearing of the throat behind me. “I’m glad you like it; so many ponies these days either can’t or don’t care about the past.” Said the old blue buck, smiling warmly. “Welcome, Mr., erm, Egghead, to the Equestrian Historical Society. I am Curator, the sixth. There is a shower in my room at the far end of the building. We can discuss payment for the water afterwards. The same goes for you, young lady.” He added, nodding towards Oya. Payment? I hoped he didn’t mean the “oldest profession” kind, but I wasn’t going to pass up the chance at my first shower in, what, a week? Oya nodded curtly, but didn’t move; looked like I was first. Damn right I was! Biting her tail again, I dragged a now-groaning Sunny along with me.

The shower wasn’t hot, but I didn’t care. It just felt nice to be able to take off my barding and feel the water on my hide. It felt nice to wash away the blood and the filth. For a while I just stood there, smiling. Yet as Sunny’s groan reminded me, as nice as things could be, there was still much to do, namely, wash the sick off of Sunny and get her to wake the hell up. I sure didn’t want to drag her everywhere until she woke up again. I stripped her of her barding and saddlebags-all kosher, I swear-and dragged her into the shower. As soon as the water hit her face she was up, spluttering, cursing, and very, very angry.

“What the fuck?!” she yelled, shaking her head and groaning. I just sat there as she tried scrambling to her hooves. She looked up at the shower, looked around at the small restroom, and glared at me. You know, I was starting to get used to that glare, if not what came after it. “Did you…did you fucking strip me?!” I nodded, confused. Didn’t one take off their barding before showering in the Wasteland? Sunny’s horn glowed, and the thought to close my eyes came too late. I had thought the veiled sunlight coming out of my stable was bright. I had thought her spell was bright when we were fighting those bandits. Then, in that small, grimy, ruined bathroom, I very nearly went blind.

I took the full, direct effect of Sunny’s, well, sun spell. I staggered, blinking furiously to try and regain my eyesight, but was slammed up against the wall. I felt the point of a horn on my throat, and the snarl of an enraged pony. “What the fuck did you do to me?” she demanded. For the second time since our first meeting, the obvious rage in her voice was laced with fear. I didn’t have the capacity to think on it, though; trying not to die blanked out most of my conscious thought. “Tell me!” Sunny roared.

“Nothing, I swear!” I choked, “I just put you in the shower! Literally, we just got here, ask Curator!”

She backed off as I heard more ponies came into the room. I could only assume Oya and Curator, my vision was still nigh-nonexistent. “Is there a problem?” the buck asked. Sunny just snorted, and I heard her gathering up her bags and barding and leaving the room. I blinked some more, trying to will my vision to return. Things were still fuzzyy, but good enough for me to grope along the sink counter for my glasses. Not perfect, but it would do. Curator just raised his eyebrows and me, and I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. Now, you said something about payment?” I asked, trying to deflect the situation. Curator just cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Yes. Well, Mr. Egghead-“

“Close.” I interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“Close Call. Please, I don’t know where this DJ PON-3 got the name Egghead, but just call me Close.” Was I going to have to go through this with everyone I met?

“Very well, Mr. Call. If you’ll follow me please?” He said with a nod, leading the way back into the atrium. Sunny was nowhere to be found; it looked like I would have to find her later, and pray she didn’t shoot me on sight.

Curator spoke as we walked, or rather, he walked and I half-stumbled along after him. “I am like you, Mr. Call. I seek knowledge, not caps. As you can see…or will see, I hope…my forefathers and I have spent lifetimes trying to spread knowledge to all who are willing to learn. We’ve traveled all across the Wasteland, collecting artifacts of the prewar world.” I could almost make out him gesturing grandly to the exhibits on display. “But,” he continued, sighing theatrically. I heard Oya yawn. “Traipsing the ruins is a job for a younger explorer, a role that I had to eschew long ago.

“So I ask you, Close Call, to mount an expedition.” Now it was my turn to sigh. Wasn’t I already on one? One that had not once, but twice so far, nearly killed me? Curator, ignoring me, moved on. “My research has led me to the location of what would be a very rare, and very treasured part of my collection. Here is what I ask of you, Mr. Call: go out into the Whinnyapolis Ruins, into that blasted urban jungle, recover my artifact, and bring it back here to me.” He turned to face me as he finally finished, beaming.

“What is it?” I asked simply.

“Tu potest non esse gravis! You cannot be serious!” Oya interjected, “The last time we tried searching for a place we almost died!”

Curator nodded, “Yes, the Sister told me of your…misfortune. There is no need to worry with this; I am not sure how, but you wandered into a truly dead part of the ruins. So long as you follow my directions, you should be fine.” He explained.

“Should be fine, aside from the ghouls, raiders, bandits, and other various Wasteland surprises.” I muttered. Goddesses knew what else was waiting for me out there. “But again, what is it? Where is it? And is a shower really worth an entire expedition?”

Curator nodded. “Not just a shower, Mr. Call. What I seek is a document; the official Declaration of War on the Zebra Empire by the Nation of Equestria. If you are a student of history at all, you realize how important this is. Not just any declaration of war, but the first-and last-declaration of war ever issued. I’ve managed to track it down to the Ministry of Morale hub here in the city.” He explained, “Now, if you were to recover this for me, not only will I consider this small debt repaid, but I may be able to tell you a few things about the ponies hunting you.”

I nickered as I blinked away the last vestiges of blindness. It was a hell of a deal to pass up: go and grab a piece of paper, get free showers and information on those creepy twins. Score! “It’s a deal!”

“What about the others?” Oya interjected, motioning outside. “I am not leaving this town without supplies again. This museum is very nice, but I see no food for sale, and the ponies here do not like us, unless you are denser then I first thought.” Wow, even insulting me, the tone and rhythm of her voice captivated me. I could be as dense as I needed to be for that voice.

“I will provide the funding and the supplies. Everything an archeological expedition needs to succeed.” Curator answered with a grin, “What is it you think you’ll need?”

I sighed. This was all happening so quickly, almost too quickly. It put me on edge, to be honest. I had hoped to stay here a few days, rest and recover before trying once again to find the MAS hub. Speaking of…”Of course I’ll need directions, as well as food. We’ll need ammunition for Oya’s rifle and Sunny’s pistol; I don’t know what caliber it is, though…”

“Nine millimeter.” Sunny said, coming into the atrium, fully dressed and still looking quite put out. She trotted to stand next to me, leaning in close. “I don’t care how drunk I am; don’t ever do that again.” She whispered. I nodded slowly, and looked back up at Curator. “Really, if scavenging is an option, the ammunition’s much more important.” I said. Curator just smiled, and trotted out the door. Oya went to have her turn in the magic water machine, and Sunny and I were left alone, waiting. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry.” I said quietly. She didn’t look at me, just nodded. It could have just been my imagination, but I thought I felt a little orange pony nodding as well.

* * *

The directions had been simple: head south until we hit the former MAS hub, then head west. Which, in their defense, had worked out great! The MAS hub was my original destination, so I could have knocked out two birds with one stone, right?

Wrong. We reached the MAS hub, all right; my PipBuck told me so. But this wasn’t the grand construction I had imagined since hearing that recording in Robronco, which, although it could have been reasonably expected that it not live up to my mental images. But a hole in the ground? A literal hole in the ground? Really?

“It must’ve taken a direct balefire hit.” Sunny said quietly. Oya nodded silently, not taking her eyes off of the former site of the building. What I assumed had been a grand example of Equestrian engineering, a beacon of light in scientific darkness, had been reduced to radioactive slag, glossy and black and dead. Even after two hundred years, flames still burned, and smoke still curled from the crater, as if beckoning anypony desperate enough for salvage or caps to come die in the radiation. Even a few feet from the edge, my rad meter had begun to softly click; good thing we had anti-radiation supplies: RadAway to make any radiation poisoning go away, and Rad-X to keep it that way. I took one of the latter as a precaution, and my companions followed suit.

Turns out, I was, in fact, that desperate. Not for caps or salvage, but for answers. “This has to be the result of a more recent attack; there’s no way it could be like this after two centuries…” I muttered.

“But there is,” Oya answered, “You say you are educated in our history and culture, Close Call of Stable 81. Do you not remember what was said once our forces had unlocked the secrets to the megaspell as a weapon of war?” I didn’t remember, but that what a PipBuck full of notes was for! I keyed up the tab, taking a moment to marvel at just how much information I’d stored over the years…the stuff really creeped up on you. I did a quick search for ‘recent’ documents; ones that dealt with anything after the start of the war. “Here we go; a declaration by the Caesar to the Nation of Equetria…”

“Please tell me it’s in Pony.” Sunny interrupted with a groan. I coughed, and continued.

“I can translate it. ‘It is a balefire megaspell. It is a harnessing of the basic power of the universe. The force from which the stars above draw their power has been loosed against those who brought war to our mighty Empire. We are now prepared to obliterate more rapidly and completely every productive enterprise Equestria has above ground in any city. We shall destroy their docks, their factories, and their communications. Let there be no mistake; we shall completely destroy Equestria's power to make war. It was to spare the ponies of Equestria from utter destruction that the ultimatum was issued at Shattered Hoof Ridge. Their leaders promptly ignored that ultimatum. If they do not now accept our terms they may expect a rain of ruin from the air, the like of which has never been seen on this earth.’

“I guess they made good on their promise…” I finished quietly. They really had completely destroyed our power to make war, to make anything, really, and we had done the same to them. However, amidst all this destruction, there came new opportunities; opportunities to learn, to rebuild, to avoid something like this in the future. The most apparent opportunity, however, was for salvage. “Let’s see what we can find; no point in wasting a trip, right?” Aside from two looks that told me I had to be insane, my companions made no argument, and we carefully made our way into the crater.

The destruction had been absolute, and there wasn’t much left to scavenge. The occasional clipboard and coffee cup, the scattered cap, but not much else. How these were the remnants of a direct balefire strike, I had no idea. My rad meter clicked faster and faster the closer we got to the center, but I could see something at the bottom of the crater. Ignoring the warnings of Sunny and Oya, as well as the chattering on my PipBuck, I descended. In the very center of the crater were bones, enough for a large group of ponies. This in and of itself wasn’t out of line; I had been seeing bones nearly everywhere since leaving Stable 81.

It was that more than a few of them were wearing Robronco jumpsuits. And in the very center I could spy the tattered remains of business attire.

If these were…these ponies had just come here to die. Most likely they’d happened upon the scorched crater that had at one time been the Ministry of Arcane Sciences’ Whinnyapolis Hub. Had they climbed in, desperately searching for a sub-basement or fallout shelter? Or had they, coming upon the ruin of their last hope for survival, resigned themselves to a slow and grueling death? No, the bullet holes in their skulls said differently. The only one intact was the formerly sharp-dressed mare. Beside her was a nine millimeter pistol. The mouthgrip wasn’t the standard wood; it was pearl, inlaid with odd silver glyphs, which, in what was the strangest turn of events yet, I didn’t understand. The name “Chandrahasa” was gracefully engraved in flowing script into the slide. Surrounding it were empty magazines-Sprocket had given a quick mercy to those who’d followed her, knowing that she couldn’t have bestowed the same mercy upon herself. I put the pistol in my saddlebags, and sat down hard. I felt woozy and disoriented, and my insides squirmed uncomfortably as I stared at the prime example of a doomed venture. I heard voices behind me, but they were subdued, my mind swimming through a sea of sludge trying to process who they were coming from and what they were saying. One voice did break through the sludge, however, and as I heard Sunny yell “Close! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”, feeling her bite on my mane and drag me away.

* * *

“Seriously, what were you doing?” Sunny asked as we walked along the derelict roads. It’d taken almost half of our RadAway to purge my system-too bad it wasn’t in enough time to prevent the vomiting.

“Perhaps the expedition is one of suicide?” Oya chimed in. Honestly, I was more surprised that she’d spoken than by what she’d said. Was it just her, or did Zebra not talk much as a general rule? I shook my head, both in response as well as trying to clear it of errant worries of what that level of radiation did to a pony. “I got…distracted. Nothing to worry about.” I explained, spitting out what I hoped were the last vestiges of sick, earning shrugs in return. “Which reminds me,” I continued, pulling the pistol out of my saddlebags and tossing it to the brown unicorn, “This is Chandrahasa, it belonged to one of the ponies in the crater. I figure you would have more use for it than me or Oya.”

Sunny caught it in her magical grip, turning the weapon this way and that. “It’s almost in perfect condition…” she mused, a smile coming to her face, “I dunno how, but still…very nice. Thanks, I guess.” First Oya strung together more than a few words, now Sunny was saying thank you? For a moment I was sure that I’d died in that pit and was now in some mind-bending hell.

We were in a much denser part of the city now, having moved well away from the docks, and keeping well away from the suburbs in which we’d nearly starved. This was evidenced not so much in the structures around us, but the number of ponies which we spied shuffling around, always just out of sight. “That DJ PON-3 really has a lot of pull around here, doesn’t he?” I asked offhandedly.

“You bet your ass he does.” Sunny replied with an angry snort, “A pony who’s been around the wasteland that long knows what he’s talking about. He fucking knows everything that happens, when it happens. Ponies may be stupid sometimes, but nopony’s that special. Not even Stable ponies.”

That brought up, of course, another question, but at least this one wasn’t a new one. “How do you know so much about us?” I asked. “About who?” Sunny countered, absently firing a few rounds out of her new pistol. I really wished she wouldn’t; it hadn’t been that long since we’d all nearly starved to death.

“About us. Stable Ponies. I know there’s a few more of us out there, but have there been more? In the past?” Could there be more in the present? Perhaps other ponies had survived the cleansing balefire which had transformed the nation of Equestria-and possibly the world-into this bleached desert skeleton?

The brown mare just looked at the new weapon, her eyes unfocused. “You’re not the first one I’ve met, No Balls. There’s stables all across the Wasteland.” She answered simply. I opened my mouth to answer, but I was preemptively silenced by more gunshots. “I really like this gun.” My companion stated primly.

“And I would really like not nearly starving to death again, so could you please stop shooting at concrete buildings?” I shot back. My efforts only earned me a shrug and another test fire of her new weapon. I nickered irritably and kept walking. If it weren’t for the fact she seemed to revel in gunplay…Sunny was just about two steps up from a raider in my eyes, and my need for gunplay was soon being eclipsed by my need to not die horribly at the hands of my own companion, as temporary as she may or may not have been.

* * *

Sunny wasn’t a raider, not even two steps removed. There was no way. As callous, unfeeling, and unsympathetic as she could be, I couldn’t imagine her ever doing something like this. I wanted to apologize for even thinking it. We were stopped at a prewar restaurant, Pony Joe’s. “No, let’s find somewhere else.” Sunny had sad, “You really don’t want to go in there.” I told her to be quiet, a restaurant was as good as any a place to hole up for the night-there had to be some sort of food left, and the building itself was one of the few that didn’t look like it was about to fall in on itself. I wished I’d listened to her.

There were bodies everywhere. They lined the walls, littered the floor, and decorated the café like some macabre party. The bodies on the wall were more often than not headless and hoofless, with their chest and stomachs open like dissection subjects. One’s intestines had been pulled up and out of its body to be strung up like streamers. What I could only assume were their heads served as ornaments on the counter, and their hooves scattered across the slick floor. Congealed blood covered the checkered floor; while old, it was still slick to the wrong step. What innards couldn’t be used for décor were thrown about with almost a gleeful fury. As soon as we’d stepped in I was sick on the floor, Oya as well. Sunny grimaced, but kept the contents of her stomach. “Ex virtute stellarum…” my striped companion whispered, her voice hoarse. “You said it…” I agreed. “Still want to stay the night here?” the unicorn asked. I couldn’t answer; I could barely make the steps back out of the store. Oya wasn’t moving though; she was cemented to the floor, eyes wide and staring straight ahead. “Come on, let’s get-“ I began, before a gurgling moan caught my attention, directing my own gaze back into the grisly diner.

Coming from the kitchen was a pony, if you could call it that. The form lying prostrate on the floor, dragging itself towards us, was equine in only the vaguest sense. It shuffled forward on two legs; its back ones were rotted away, draining pus and blood behind it. Its hide was infested with mange, bare skin poking through. What small part of pale blue hide I could see was covered in scars, which pulsed and festered, some having split open and oozed yet more blood and infection. Its eyes had been overtaken by bulbous sores. “Help me…please…” the thing croaked, bloated and discolored tongue flopping around out of its mouth before falling wetly to the ground, severing itself. There was a gunshot, and the pony fell, a neat hole in the center of its forehead.

We slept in an office building that night.

* * *

“So…anypony want to talk about what happened in there?" I asked as we gathered our supplies the next morning. My E.F.S., which I hadn’t even bothered to turn on until after the diner, was clear, but I wasn’t going to write anything off because of it. A radroach skittering out of a bathroom had taught me better than that. “I’m not a pony.” Oya said simply. “Why the fuck do you want to?” Sunny said simply. I looked from one to the other. Were they being serious? “Are you two actually saying that in both of your combined years in the Wasteland, neither of you have seen anything like that?”

“No.”

“Can’t say I have.”

“What was that then…?” I muttered. What could do that to a pony? Disease? Couldn’t be; if it were a disease, then my companions would have seen it before, wouldn’t they? I brushed it off for now, swept it into an unused corner of my mind. Those eyes, though…they lingered there, squirming in the darkness of the hole I’d pushed them in, trying to claw their way
free. “Let’s…let’s just go.” I muttered, stepping out into the light of day.

The Ministry of Morale Hub was just down the block-I could see the balloons from our overnight shelter. Both Sunny and Oya had suggested we stay somewhere else for the night, as opposed to pushing on to the hub. Apparently the MoM had a bit of a reputation around the Wasteland-I didn’t know how, just look at those balloons! There were also the posters, faded, torn, but scattered around the city: a chipper pink pony with a curly candy-cane mane telling me to smile, smile, smile! And even the spritebots were apparently once used to spread, well, morale. Either way, we were here now, and I could not think of a more welcoming place in the Wasteland!

Before us stood a four-story square building. It had a brick façade, and had been painted over in what had probably been a bright pink before the bombs. On each corner of the roof floated the balloons I’d seen from down the block, and above the double-door entryway were a pair of large, (formerly) brightly-colored loudspeakers. These blared loud static and feedback, with the occasional crackling burst of “Come…-vrypony…ile, smile!” The only thing that ruined the MoM’s attempts at happiness-other than the whole fiery apocalypse thing-was the slew of bodies by the front door.

The bones I’d gotten almost used to at this point, but these bodies were fresh. The blood was still pooling around a few of them, and there were more than a few piles of ash glowing in the early morning sunlight. “Scavengers…” Sunny muttered, drawing Chandrahasa. One of them looked like she’d been torn to shreds by gunfire. What kind of weapon could do such a thing? No matter; my expeditions-either of them-weren’t going to die just because I got skittish. Trying not to step on anypony, or any of the blood, I trotted up the rotted wooden steps to the solid oak doors. On the left one was a plaque. Wiping the (fresh) blood off, I read aloud:

Ministry of Morale

Whinnyapolis Hub

Dedicated to all of our good good friends in the Equestrian Army, and to the absolutely fantabulous ponies of Whinnyapolis! This hub is crafted almost entirely from the finest Whinnyapolis lumber, and we couldn’t have done it without your help!

“They built this out of wood?” Oya asked incredulously. I snickered and turned to her, smiling. “Well sure. I mean, most of our buildings were built from steel, brick, or concrete during the war, but there’s no problem with wood. Most Equestrian homes were built from it before the war.” I explained, pushing open the door and heading in before she could answer. I looked around the derelict atrium as Sunny and Oya walked in behind me. Papers were strewn everywhere, mingling amongst the bones of the long dead. A sickly green glow emanated from a terminal on the front desk, and more feedback and static emanated from speakers spread around the ceiling. The very…heavy…looking ceiling.

There was a definite convex bow in the ceiling, and even over the broken speakers I could hear the faint cracking of wooden supports that’d been subject to too much time and abuse and too little maintenance. “Perhaps there is a reason they stopped building things out of wood?” Oya remarked. There were more subtle ways to say “I told you so” to somepony, ya know… “Looks like it’ll cave in at any moment.” Sunny chimed in, “Let’s get this piece of paper and get out of here.” I nodded silently; a certain expedience would be required here-right after I checked out that terminal! I trotted over, and as I reached the desk there was a loud boom from upstairs. The building shook, and next I knew, I was flat on the ground, pinned by a mass of wood and plaster. My ears rang, and both me and the little orange pony in my mind groaned under the weight.

Gunshots and the crack of a laser exploded from where my companions stood, with more than a few hits ricocheting off of, well, something. What were they shooting at? Better yet, what was that purring?

Celestia and Luna above, my ears! I now knew what kind of weapon could tear a pony apart-whatever the hell that was! Even more terrifying, it was aimed at my friends! Adrenaline coursing through my veins and the mantra “Be Strong” coursing through my mind, I slowly, painfully, lifted myself from the rubble from the former upper floor. The purring weapon paused for a moment, and what was left of my hearing caught the sound of something heavy turning towards me. I immediately looked back towards Sunny and Oya; the walls behind them were riddled with small bullet holes and the windows shattered, but they had both taken cover behind the building’s inner supports and were still alive, from what I could tell. My glasses were cracked, but as I myself turned, I could still see the figure that had fallen from the ceiling. Now I knew where that purring had come from….

He was a pony, or at least, pony-shaped. He was clad head to hoof in dull grey armor. There were no bare spots, no vulnerable points, nothing to it. Just armor, what looked like air hoses, and two of the biggest Celestia-damned guns I’d ever seen. Seven long barrels arranged in a circle, attached to a central unit and a belt of ammunition adorned one end of his battle-saddle. The other was what I could only reliably call a cannon. I could also call it very, very large. “Who are you?” I demanded, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. The pony didn’t respond at first; his guns just gave a little whirr as he revved the motors. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sunny and Oya backing off, the former with Chandrahasa still drawn. “No one’s going to hurt you, now who are you and what do you want?” I repeated. Did he speak Zebra?

“Like they could.” The armored mare responded simply. Wait, that was a she? “I am Paladin Gun Bunny, of the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers. Now surrender your PipBuck and your friend’s AER-12 beam rifle and be on your way, or I will have to remove them by force.”

“We’re friends?” I asked, ignoring the Knight and turning to Oya. She shrugged. “I do not know what you consider a friend, Close Call of Stable 81, but in my home you are either a friend or an enemy. Since you are not my enemy, you could only be my friend. So yes, we are friends.” I blinked. I’d never really thought of them as my friends-I hadn’t thought of anyone as my friend, not really. Parum was about the closest thing I’d ever had to a friend. Insusurro and the other ponies in Stable 81 were more…coworkers. Everyone had a job to do, and we did it. It felt…nice, to be able to call somepony-er, someone-my friend. “Oh. Well, good.” I answered meekly; I really had nothing else to say.

“We’re still not friends.” Sunny chimed in, not looking at me or Oya.

Our conversation and my epiphany were interrupted by the chambering of what had to be a massive round. “That’s all well and good, but I say again-surrender your PipBuck and beam rifle or be annihilated!” The armored mare repeated. Huh? “What do you want with my PipBuck?” I asked. It’s not like she could do anything with it, could she?
“She wants it just to have it.” Sunny explained, not taking her eyes off of our new acquaintance, “She’s a Steel Ranger-she couldn’t give two shits about whoever’s attached to a piece of tech, or what she has to do to get it, only that there’s technology, and she wants it. Fucking Rangers.”

“We are the protectors of technology. All you primitives do is misuse it and destroy it. If it weren’t for the Steel Rangers, you all would’ve probably destroyed the world again. It is our mission-nay, our sacred duty, to collect and protect the technology of the past in order to have a brighter future!” She actually posed at this, standing tall and throwing out her chest extravagantly. I exchanged looks with Oya and Sunny before turning back to her. “That makes no sense.” I stated simply.
“And I’m not giving you my PipBuck; I don’t care what you try and do to us.”

There was movement in the remains of upstairs, and another armored head showed itself over the lip of the hole. “You alright Gun Bunny?” Another feminine voice called, “Stop fuckin’ around with those tribals and get up here, we’ll try it again!”
“But they possess items which rightfully belong to the Ministry of Wartime Technology! This one has a PipBuck!” Gun Bunny replied.

“I thought those were Arcane Sciences?”

“Does it matter? You know what Maple Sausage would do to me if she found out we passed up a PipBuck for a damn safe?”
The other mare paused for a bit, and shrugged-I was surprised she could in all that armor. “Fine, kill the tribal, get their PipBuck, and get up here!”

We three “tribals” shared a look. Perhaps…? “I could get you into that safe.” Sunny said. Both Rangers looked at her, and the one on the second floor spoke. “You can get into safes?”

“Most of ‘em.”

“What do you want in return?”

“Not to die?”

The mare thought for a moment, and looked down at her partner. “Well, you’re the PIC, what do you say?” she called down. Gun Bunny snorted angrily and turned back to me. “So you get us in the safe, and we let you go? No tribal I’ve ever met has done something for somepony for what’s essentially no charge.” She asked evenly. I grinned. “Well I wouldn’t want to break your streak,” I said, “And I won’t. We’re looking for a document. The official Declaration of War on the Zebra Empire by the Nation of Equestria. It’s supposed to be in here. If you could lead us to it, I’d accept that as payment.”

Gun Bunny nickered, but nodded. “Fine. I don’t know anything about a Declaration, but if it’s important, it’ll be in the vault. You help us get in there, and I’ll allow you to remove it, if indeed it is in there.”

“The vault?” I asked.

“Yes. The entire basement of this building is a massive vault, holding relics and technology untold. We tried to get into it, but I believe the door was manufactured by none other than Stable-Tec; the thing’s impenetrable. Intelligence indicates that there is a key to the vault in the safe upstairs, but that so far has also proven to be…difficult to open by force. That key is the only reason I’m even considering letting you go. But rest assured, I will get that PipBuck. This city is big, but not so big that you can hide from Paladin Gun Bunny of the Steel Rangers.”

I rolled my eyes. “Alright, whatever you say, Paladin Gun Bunny of the Steel Rangers.”

* * *

While almost excessively armored, to the point that a damn artillery shell couldn’t crack it, all Sunny needed was a screwdriver and a bobby pin and we were in. Inside were a few old finance reports, some gold bits (which the Rangers let me keep!), and a pink octagonal gemstone. “We’ll be taking that.” Said the feminine, speaker-filtered voice of Knight Gun Bunny. The gemstone floated from the safe, and into a compartment in her armor. So she was a unicorn, hmm? Good to know. Sunny and Oya joined the Knight in heading downstairs while I hung back to survey what was left of the second floor.
Aside from the massive hole in the floor, it didn’t look much different than any other of the offices that we’d stayed in or explored in our short time traveling together. Now that I thought about it, most of those also had massive holes in the floor. No, what made this place unique was how preserved everything was. Sure, there was the general decrepit feel to all of it; but there was something I couldn’t put my hoof on.

“Nothing’s burned.” A mare said behind me. I turned to face the other half of the Steel Ranger pair. Her battle saddle didn’t have the hardware Gun Bunny did: just a pair of large beam rifles, a much higher caliber than Oya’s, if beam weapons in fact had a caliber. Looking past me at the remains of the room, she continued, “Don’t look so confused. This was a Ministry Hub; it was host to some of the most powerful protection spells ever to come out of both the public and private sectors. The talismans shielding this place must’ve only worn off in the last decade or so. I’m Honey Heart, by the way.”

“Close Call.” I replied, “The unicorn is Sunny, and the Zebra is Oya. How do you know so much about this place, Paladin
Honey? Have you been here before?”

“Knight.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not a Paladin.” Honey Heart explained with a chuckle. It sounded odd coming from a respirator. “I’m an Initiate, meaning I’ve only just begun my time as an actual Steel Ranger. As to how I know so much, I used to be a researcher for the Rangers-a Scribe-it was my job to know these things.”

I nodded as I dug through the corporate detritus, looking for valuables, clues, anything. The inside of the Ministry of Morale was in the same vein as outside: bright, primary colors everywhere, with balloons and streamers scattered about the place. Or at least, what used to be bright primary colors, and the remains of balloons and streamers scattered about the place. “So why’d you become, well, a soldier? Seems a far cry from a researcher.” Out of the many things in this blasted world I couldn’t even try to understand, this was something I could. Though not quite thrust into the role of soldier, I had very soon found myself as far removed as a researcher as a pony could be hardly three steps outside of my stable. While not quite a soldier, I never imagined I’d be fighting ponies, killing ponies, almost being killed by other ponies and the Wasteland itself; and in some deep, black corner of my mind…I feared what I was becoming because of it.

“I hated having a desk job.” She said, “Plus, there’s always more to learn and gather out here than there is in our bunker, and I wanted to see if the artifacts were actually ‘found like this’. I refuse to believe that everything is destroyed.” There was a pause before she added, “And please excuse Paladin Bunny. She gets…enthusiastic about things at times.” You don’t say.

* * *

“Four thousand caps!”

“Your life.”

“Three thousand!”

“Your life.”

“Twenty-five hundred or no deal!”

“You give it to me or I kill you. That was the deal, that is the deal.”

“What’s the problem?” I interrupted. We were in an empty room back on the ground floor-literally, there was nothing in here; no desks, no mats, no filing cabinets…just a console set into the far wall. It must have been concealed behind a panel prewar; whether it had been destroyed by the bombs or by an overenthusiastic Paladin, I neither knew nor cared. I did, however, care about the floating pink gemstone enveloped in a shifting of gold and silver magic as Sunny and Paladin Bunny struggled to retain ownership. “They have been at it since we came down here.” Oya explained, looking up from a magazine in the corner of the room.

“She’s trying to gyp me out of my caps!” Sunny argued, keeping her concentration on the gemstone, grunting with exertion as she struggled to keep it out of Gun Bunny’s grasp. I couldn’t tell if she was experiencing the same amount of trouble, but I could tell she was beginning to get annoyed. “There were no caps involved, Tribal.” She said, “The deal was you get us in, and we let you leave. There were never any caps involved.”

I sighed, trying my best not to facehoof. “Sunny, the nice Steel Ranger Paladin agreed not to kill us, and the nice museum curator agreed to pay us. Could you please just give it to her?” I explained as calmly as I could.

“You seem to forget just how badly I need caps, No Balls.”

“You seem to forget that the nice ponies you owe them to aren’t the ones hunting us down like dogs.”

“…You may have a point there, NB.”

“And you wonder why no one likes you.”

“I thought your name was Close Call…?” Honey Heart chimed in. “It is.” I replied flatly, watching as Sunny released the hold on the gem. Paladin Gun Bunny said nothing, just floated it over to the small recessed panel. “Wewe hakika gani kuwa na njia kwa maneno.” Oya commented, stowing her magazine and standing back up. “It’s what I do...” I muttered.
There was a click as the armor-clad mare gently pressed the key into its space. The floor shook, and began to descend, leaving the room above us! Gears, unattended for centuries, left to the elements by the deaths of the ponies who’d once tended them, squealed in agony as we five were jerkily transported down to the vault. I had to keep myself from dancing in
anticipation; what kinds of wonders had been preserved while the world withered and died in balefire?

* * *

Globes. Lots and lots of globes.

Paladin Gun Bunny wasn’t kidding when she said the place was massive; I could probably put two of Stable 81’s atrium in here, with room to spare. And all that was in here were shelves upon shelves upon shelves of these little globes. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them in here! “I guess the Ministry of Morale was really into…snowglobes?” I mused, looking around as I walked through the aisles.

“They’re memory orbs.” Honey Heart muttered, looking around at them as she too stepped further into the vault. “Specialized unicorns could extract memories from a pony and store them in these orbs. I knew the MoM used them for interrogation, but…there’s so many…” Wait, interrogation? It looked like a giant party in here; and how was an office for morale in charge of interrogation…? I shook the thought from my mind as I scooped a few of the orbs into my saddlebags. I had no idea how one viewed them, but I was sure a way would present itself.

“Memory orbs? That’s it?” Gun Bunny snorted, “I thought you said there was something useful to the Order down here Knight Honey!”

“I did, and this is it!” She said, taking her eyes off of the shelves in order to look (glare? It was hard to tell with those helmets) at her superior. “Do you know how much information could be stored in these? These are the memories of ponies selected personally by Pinkie Pie-“ Who was that, and how did she have enough time for all of these ponies? “-and any one of them could lead to, like, anything! Weapons caches, secret projects, anything!” Gun Bunny just nickered in response as the rest of us moved on, looking for anything else of value. I snagged a memory orb here and there, not wanting to chance missing anything important. From another area of the vault came an “A-ha!”, followed by a “Hey, No Balls, you want this?”

“For the last time, Sunny, it’s-“ I began, but stopped as I saw what she’d discovered. One of the walls had been dedicated entirely to lockboxes and safes, the door of one lying open and Sunny pointing to it. “I got bored, so I thought I’d see what was in these.” She explained with a shrug, “Don’t you collect these though? I know Butcher gave you one.” I peered in, curious as I pulled it out of the box and set it on the floor.

Magenta eyes and a defiant expression met my green eyes and confused expression. Cyan coat, prismatic mane, lean, fit body, wings at the ready…whoever this pony had been, she looked ready for action! I peered at the base of the statuette: “Be Awesome!” And by Celestia’s glory and Luna’s power, I did feel awesome! I felt I could take on anything and everything the Equestrian Wasteland had to offer! I just wanted to…to…to do something! Something awesome! Something that didn’t involve the chambering of an artillery round.

“Let’s go, Tribals.” Paladin Gun Bunny asserted. I carefully placed the statuette in my bags as I turned to face her, trying to make myself confused, yet knowing what this was about. “You didn’t get what you wanted, so now the deal’s off, isn’t it?” She just stared at us; I took it as a yes. “Paladin…” Honey Heart began, but was silenced by a look from said Paladin. “I am not returning from this mission empty-handed, Knight Honey.” She explained sternly.

“You will not be returning from your mission at all.” Oya said darkly. Her beam rifle was aimed right at Gun Bunny’s head; she’d been off positioned herself behind the pair while we were all distracted with, well, each other. The Steel Ranger laughed in her face. “Really? You think that’s going to scare me?” she snickered, “This is the pinnacle of Equestrian personal defense! The most you’ll do is scorch my armor! Go on, try it. Killing you will almost be fun.”

“COME OUT, PONIES!” Screamed a voice; no, a multitude of voices! They invaded every corner of my mind-all my senses were suddenly dedicated to processing this voice’s message! What could do such a thing? Did it use a spell? Was I finally going insane? No, that wasn’t it; I could see my friends and the Rangers feeling its effects as well. “No…not now, not now!” Cursed the Paladin. “What’s going on? What was that?” I demanded, to no avail though. All Sunny had to offer was “Fuck!”

“BY THE ORDER OF THE GODDESS, WE DEMAND YOU SHOW YOURSELVES!” Came the voice again. “What do we do?” I asked, shouting over the voice that wasn’t there. “What else can we do?” Honey Heart offered, “When the Goddess says to come out, you come out, right?”

_____________________________________________________________________________________
Level Up!
Perk Added: Fortune Finder-There was always a cheap bastard in there somewhere, and now he’s out. You find caps and bits where most ponies find nothing.

Author's Note

Whew, did this take awhile! Firstly, I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for how long it took to get this chapter finished and out to all of you! As I said, I did have my little field exercise, but luckily enough I got the occasional chance to write, and thus shortened the amount of work I had to do when I got home. So, per usual, I would like to thank you all again for continuing to read about the trials and adventures of Close Call, and if you're a new reader, welcome to the party! I'd also like to thank Kkat for the inspiration and for creating this world which we romp around in! Please, feel free to leave any criticisms (positive and negative, I am a big boy) in the comments below!

See you in Chapter Five!

5: In Which Equinity is Discovered, and a Nation Deceived

Chapter 5: In Which Equinity is Discovered, and a Nation Deceived

“Rursus prosperum ac felix scelus virtus vocatur; sontibus parent boni, ius est in armis, opprimit leges timor.”
"Once again prosperous and successful crime goes by the name of virtue; good men obey the bad, might is right and fear oppresses law."
-Seneca the Younger, Hercules Furens

A little bit about religion in Stable 81: there was none. At least, not at first. Those first stable inhabitants knew that while nearly omnipotent in their magical prowess, there weren’t necessarily Goddesses. They didn’t create the world, and had little actual effect on anywhere outside of Equestria-the war being a prime example. In any case, the diligent ponies of Stable 81 didn’t pay much mind to the Goddesses/Princesses Celestia and Luna. Our focus was on the evil Zebra Empire and her allies. That was the extent to which religion had permeated our minds. Now, over time, there had been talk of the Goddesses coming to bring us back out into civilization, and there return would be heralded by…something. I couldn’t honestly remember; nopony in the stable paid much attention to such talk.

But, I’m rambling again. Point being, when me, my kidnapper, a random Zebra, and two relics from the armed forces of a nation which hadn’t existed for at least two hundred years are commanded telepathically by a being calling herself the Goddess, I was starting to honestly wonder if my life could become any more surreal.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Out of all the times for them to show up!” Paladin Gun Bunny cursed loudly, ignoring the Zebra pointing a laser rifle at her faceplate. I looked around, no longer wondering if I were the only one to hear the voices. The only wonder was what to do about them. “Oya, could you search these safes for the declaration?” I asked, “I wanna see what this ‘Goddess’ thing is all about.” The Zebra nodded and set off, picking and opening safes at random. I began to make my way back out of the vault, only to be stopped by a heavily armored (and armed) mare. “No. No no no no no. That is not a good idea.” Knight Honey Heart protested, waving her hooves in the air and shaking her head. “Let us take care of them; this is a Steel Ranger matter.”

“She’s right. At least, the not-good-idea part. The Goddess is nothing you wanna fuck with. The best thing to do is hide and hope they move on. Or let these two kill themselves trying to fight them. Either one works for me.” Sunny added. Paladin Gun Bunny nickered.

“Well said, Knight Heart. You, tribal, are a coward and an idiot. We don’t need tribals meddling in our affairs…any more than they already have.” She replied, glaring(?) at Sunny.

“Them?” I inquired, “I thought there was only one Goddess? The voice only mentioned one.” Although I had been mentally assaulted by the sound of scores of ponies, they spoke as one-or rather, spoke as one as well as what could have only been thousands of separate ponies could speak as one. And I couldn’t help but wonder what affairs these Steel Rangers could possibly have with a Goddess. Were the Rangers that important in this shattered world? Then why had I never heard of them before a couple hours ago?

“OUR PATIENCE GROWS THIN, PONIES! BRING OUT THE ONE KNOWN AS THE EGGHEAD! WE KNOW HE IS IN THERE! COME OUT, AND WE MAY ADD YOU TO UNITY INSTEAD OF MERELY KILLING YOU!”
Well, that solved that. “Well, I guess that solves that. Shall we?” I asked. Gun Bunny just sighed, and together we headed
back upstairs.

* * *

I don’t know what the Goddess or Unity was, but I had to admit, if these three…ponies were it, then the Goddess and/or Unity was hot. And huge.

Three winged unicorns stood before we four mere ponies, elegant, regal, and at least a head and a half taller than us. Sleek black coats glistened in what sunlight broke through the eternal could cover, breaking over very toned flanks-blank ones, oddly enough! Before I could do anything but briefly wonder about how three blank-flanked winged unicorns came to exist, they again “spoke” as one.

“FEAR NOT, MY LITTLE PONIES! THE GODDESS DOES NOT WISH YOUR DEMISE TODAY, WE ONLY WANT THE PONY KNOWN AS EGGHEAD!”

“Wait, I know this language! It’s the Royal Canterlot Voice!” I exclaimed. Three avatars of forgotten royalty and here was my first chance to make a good impression! From the way my companions reacted to their commands, these three were obviously the rulers of this land, or rather, representatives of the ruler-this “Goddess”. The Steel Rangers must be a rebel faction, which is why they’re so hostile toward each other! I had a hard time figuring out why Gun Bunny was facehoofing, but it was most likely because she knew I had just figured out what was really going on! It still didn’t explain the feeling of an orange pony facehoofing while her cyan friend laughed. I strode forward, clearing my throat. “HAIL, NOBLE EMISSARIES!” I shouted, “I AM THE ONE YOU SEEK. MY NAME IS CLOSE CALL, AND I WAS SENT HERE FROM STABLE 81 IN ORDER TO MAKE CONTACT WITH YOU, O DISTINGUISHED PONIES!”

Our three visitors exchanged looks, and in my mind I could hear them talking amongst themselves. “This is the Egghead?” “It must be, he has the glasses and everything.” “But this one’s an idiot; Unity will gain nothing from him.” “We seek the Lost Ones, and we now know that they seek him. The Egghead is inconsequential beyond that.” Wait…
“YOU WILL COME WITH US, EGHEAD.” They resumed, filling all five of my senses with a cacophony of their voices, “WE SHALL HOLD YOU AND THE LOUD ONE CAPTIVE WITH US UNTIL THE LOST ONES FIND YOU. ONCE WE ARE DONE WITH THEM, WE WILL ALLOW YOU TO JOIN US IN UNITY!”

“The hell you will!” Came my companion’s own declaration. Dammit, Sunny, I’m trying to be diplomatic over here! Maybe learn something!

Yet in the next few seconds I learned more than I would have in conversation because of her outburst.

First, I learned (rather, re-learned) that artillery is very, very loud. Taking a cue from Sunny, Paladin Gun Bunny unleashed the fury of her battle saddle upon the Goddess’ envoys. A shell easily half the size of me tore through the first winged unicorn’s midsection, splitting it in half as the round continued through the second one as well. I found myself splattered with blood and bits of gore, and given nary a chance to revile in it as the shell exploded, launching me hard back into the outer wall of the ministry behind me. My body, already abused, exploded in pain as I fell upon the ruined porch. My ears rang; I could barely make out the gentle and deadly purr of Gun Bunny’s battle saddle-it sounded as though it were coming from a great distance, and blended quite nicely with the ringing which was also assaulting my eardrums.

I blinked, trying to bring the world back into focus. My vision cleared all too slowly, images almost flickering across my mind. The dust on the battlefield and the dust in my head began to settle, and what I saw (or rather, could see) astounded me:

The last winged unicorn stood unharmed, surrounded by a glowing green shield. The artillery shell that had obliterated two of the offenders had exploded against this third one’s shield! A part of my mind struggled to comprehend how a being such as this could exist, how something could have magic powerful enough to stop what would have normally leveled a building. That part was quickly shoved violently into a corner and beaten with hoses by the other parts of my mind, which occupied themselves by screaming various iterations of ohcelestiaitcan’tbekilledohcelestiaandlunaabovewe’regoingtodie in just about every language I knew.

Through the waning ring in my ears I could hear Sunny cursing, Honey Heart groaning, and Gun Bunny reloading. Was she really going to take another shot?! After the fuck-all the first one did?! I didn’t think the rest of us could take another close-range blast like that anyway!

“She’s a Steel Ranger-she couldn’t give two shits about whoever’s attached to a piece of tech, or what she has to do to get it, only that there’s technology, and she wants it.” Sunny had explained not a few hours earlier. With a flash I realized that Gun Bunny honestly did not car whether we lived or died. Hell, it probably made her job that much easier.
The beast’s horn flashed, a bolt of light striking Gun Bunny in the chest. I don’t know what spell that was, but the outspoken Steel Ranger Paladin managed only to fire another round from her cannon as she fell to the ground. The shot went wide of the creature, taking down what was left of a coffee shop behind it. The Ranger lay still-she could have been sleeping.

“Motherfucker!” Honey Heart screamed, unleashing a barrage of laser fire that had about as much effect as the artillery shell. Soon enough there was a pop, and the fire stopped. She’d run out of ammunition, if laser rifles took ammunition. Sunny’s own mirrored sentiment didn’t do much else. The only thing they accomplished was pissing the creature off.
“INSOLENT RANGERS!” She mentally screamed, “WE CAME HERE IN PEACE, BUT NOW YOU HAVE BROUGHT DEATH UPON YOU!” I cowered under the multitude of voices which continued to posture and threaten, fearing for my new friends’ lives.

But then another voice spoke in my mind, drowning out the others:

Be Strong

A second joined it:

Be Awesome

And together they gave me an idea. A probably suicidal idea, but an idea nonetheless.

The creature’s attention was on Knight Heart and Sunny, her shield still shimmering in the twilight. Slowly, I picked myself up and stepped forward. “Stop!” I shouted, approaching the remnants of the worst welcoming committee ever, “I’ll go, just don’t hurt them…”

“Hey, dickhead!” Sunny responded with all the eloquence she could muster, “You’re not going anywhere! Way I see it, you cost me five grand, so you owe me five grand. Don’t you dare try and shit out on me!” Good to know you care, Sunny.

The Goddess’ emissary actually grinned at this, lowering her shield. “WISE DECISION, MY LITTLE PONY. YOU WILL COME WITH US TO SEE THE GODDESS. THERE MAY EVEN BE HOPE FOR YOU IN UNITY!”

I wasn’t paying attention, however-I’d begun moving as soon as the shield was down. Even with their spells, wings, horns, and mind-speaking, they were still ponies, right? Biologically, or at least anatomically, they had to still essentially be ponies, right? It was this assumption that drove me underneath her (and not in the fun way), sliding on my back and kicking at where her legs met her body in a series of fluid motions. The momentum of my slide carried me out from under her just in time for her to collapse. Praying that my next assumption was correct as well, I struck at her neck, and mentally cheered as it too fell to the ground. A cyan pegasus was dancing in excitement in my mind, proclaiming how awesome that had been, as I turned to Sunny and Honey Heart.

“Is it…dead?” the speaker-filtered, yet still sorrow-filled voice asked. I began to answer when the creature answered for me.

“HOW DARE YOU, YOU IMPUDENT WORM!” Screamed a thousand voices as their vessel tried to move.

“Paralyzed.” I answered simply (and more quietly). It was the same technique I’d used on a raider outside of New Falmalla-this…thing would be unable to move for close to an hour, at least. Hopefully.

Or, you could reload your weapons and shoot it in the face. I guessed that worked too.

* * *

“Do you still live, Close Call of Stable 81? I heard explosions.” Came the exotic voice of my striped companion. She’d acquired the Declaration; at least, I assumed the ancient-looking parchment rolled up in an equally ancient-looking seal was what was tucked behind her ear.

“Yes, and somehow, I can still hear.” I responded, gently taking the parchment and placing it in my saddlebags. Now we just needed to get it back to Curator, and then onward to where his information took us, if it took us anywhere. Really, a pony would be inclined to think that the aged museum curator knew exactly what he was sending us into. But I could ask him about that when I saw him. Right now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“What will you do now?” I asked Knight Honey Heart of the Steel Rangers. She didn’t answer right away-she only knelt next to her fallen comrade, silent. Her faceplate emotionless, Knight Heart’s very being still radiated the deepest sadness I had ever (even tangentially) experienced. It was enough that I felt the need to say something, anything…

“Tó̱ra gia na katavrochthízoun flóges eínai af̱tá mia leía;
Áchri̱sto gia séna, apó af̱tó to kataraméno méra!
O̱stóso, as i̱ thysía touláchiston prépei na katavli̱theí,
Mia timí̱ i̱ zo̱í̱, den eínai o nekrós…”

And with that, I, too, fell silent. With all immediate threats eliminated, I felt safe enough to stay in one place for a while.
Sunny, however, did not. “Hey, I know this is sad and everything, but could we get moving? I’d really prefer to be gone before more of her alicorn friends show up.” Is that what they were called?

“Sunny…” I began, actually facehoofing, before being interrupted by our armored acquaintance. Honey Heart stood, and spoke with a heavy sigh:

“No…she’s right…” She said, choking on her words, “The Goddess will send reinforcements soon. We were lucky to eliminate these three in the first place. You three…” Heart sighed again, as if contemplating something that shook her very core, and continued, “You three go do whatever you were going to do. I need to get…I need to relay this new development to higher.”

* * *

“So what was all that back there?” Sunny asked, even her voice at this point alien to me. We were coming up on Harbor, having stayed mostly silent on the trip back. There was the fear of attracting anymore of those alicorn things, as well as I myself not being very talkative. The journey back I spent deep in my own thoughts; Paladin Gun Bunny’s death was far from the first one I’d ever seen, but it had been one of only two deaths on ponies I actually knew. Yet even this reflection of mortality was still locked in a bitter cerebral melee with my astonishment at seeing a living, breathing, alicorn.
According to Stable 81’s records of Equestria, there were only three known alicorns, even if they weren’t referred to as such: the Princesses Celestia, Luna, and Mi Amore Cadenza (more colloquially known as Cadence). Nopony knew exactly how these three came to be, if there were more of them before, or if knew ones would ever appear, and thus they were the subject of much research by fringe elements. Any research they managed to complete, however, didn’t make it to my stable’s archives. Stable 81 was a Zebra research stable, after all. So it was left to question: were my potential (new) kidnappers genuine alicorns, or merely poor copies created by magical radiation?

I found Sunny’s question was easier to answer. “What do you mean?” I questioned.

“Well, aside from a plan which I never would’ve believed came from you-” Hey! “-I’m asking what was that mumbo jumbo you were saying? When you were talking to the Ranger bitch?”

“You mean Knight Heart?”

“Whoever. Just answer the question?”

I shrugged. “It comes from an ancient Zebra dialect called Galician. Not Cowhili, but closer to Pre-Roaman. Anyway, there’s a story in that culture about a great war, and that passage was from the death of one of its most celebrated warriors.”

We stopped in front of the warehouse which served as Harbor’s museum as I finished my explanation. Sunny pushed open the door, shaking her head as if disappointed. “Goddesses, you are such an egghead.”

* * *

“You got it! It’s actually here! I-I-I can’t believe you were actually able to locate it!”

At the sight of our hard-earned prize, Curator displayed an energy and vigor more suitable to a much younger stallion. With the way he positively danced about like a schoolfilly, I was honestly afraid he was going to break something. Seriously, I thought I could hear his hip creaking from here. At the same time, I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm; in him I found a passion most ponies in the Wasteland reserved for murdering and/or raping each other. On another note, I had shit to do, and we had a deal.

“Yes, yes, we got it…Now you said you had some information for us?” I asked. Curator abruptly recomposed himself, still smiling widely.

“Yes. Well, let’s not rush things, shall we, Mr. Egghead-er, Mr. Call?” He began to explain, “I’m sure you and your friends-“

“We’re not friends” Sunny interjected from afar, inspecting the Steel Ranger display as if expecting it to come alive and demand all of her technology.

“-Ahem. Well, I am sure you all are quite tired from your endeavors, and I need to find a proper frame for this. So how about you all turn in for the night, and we’ll parley tomorrow, hmm? I’ve reserved top notch rooms at Harbor’s finest hotel for you.”

I groaned. I didn’t like it-I really wanted to get going-but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I did have a thought, however, as we made our way to the door: “Hey!” I called, opening one of the pockets on my bandoleer and setting it on the floor before him, “I found a bunch of these as well. An…acquaintance told us they were memory orbs, but I don’t know much about how to view them. Would you-“

Curator’s eyes lit up, that youthful vigor returning. “You found memory orbs?” he nearly squealed, snatching the globe up and examining it with crossed eyes. He continued on, mostly to himself, “Well of course, I knew the Ministry of Morale kept depositories, but not all the way out here…There must be a treasure trove, just waiting to be viewed! I can’t believe you found them!” He set it back on the floor, smiling back at me. “Memory orbs are very rare across the Wasteland; even moreso in Whinnyapolis. You and your friends-“

“We’re not friends.” Sunny, right on cue.

“-were very lucky in finding these. Now, typically only unicorns can view them without assistance, but there are means by which us flat-headed ponies may view them as well. Have you ever heard of a recollector?” I shook my head no. “It’s a device which allows a non-unicorn to view memory orbs, and is almost as rare as the orbs themselves. I myself am in
possession since you’ve done so much to further pony education, I suppose I could let you borrow it for the evening.”

Now it was my turn to squee.

* * *

“At least there’s running water.” I noted, turning the sink on and off while my companions inspected the rest of the room. The top notch rooms at Harbor’s finest hotel were, in fact, trash. At least, they were trash to me, having lived in a mostly sterile stable my entire life. We were in another one of Harbor’s massive warehouses, this one converted into a residential space, with the living spaces separated via heavy canvas hung up on wires. Our room was ritzy in that it was in a corner, and thus had access to plumbing. Nonetheless, at this point I was happy for an actual mattress. Anything was better than the ground.

“Are you going to use that all night, Close Call of Stable 81?” Oya asked, nodding towards my saddlebags. In them was
the recollector Curator had told me about, a golden crown with a receptacle for memory orbs. Apparently all I had to do was focus on the thing on my head, and I’d be able to view another pony’s memories, easy as that. Oh, this was exciting!

I shook my head. “Not all night, maybe only a couple. Curator said that it could take days to watch all of these orbs. I don’t want to starve to death while stuck in one. Also, I still have a mission to complete. While these definitely help with that, there’s still more to be done.” Oya just shrugged.

With Sunny cleaning Chandrahasa, and Oya paging through a surprisingly intact magazine, I fished the recollector out of my bags, picked a memory orb at random, and prepared myself the best I could.

oooOOOooo

I wanted to scream.

From what I could tell, my…host definitely had some extra appendages I wasn’t used to. The shock was only slightly lessened by the fact I had seen a pegasus a few days ago. The wings, however, were the least of my worries. Nay, while I had tried to prepare myself for a few differences, there was nothing that could have prepared me for the loss of my penis. It didn’t matter that somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that me and all parts of me were fine, once you can’t feel such an integral organ, you go a little nuts. No pun intended.

I was so distressed I nearly missed what my host was doing. She was reading a newspaper, the whole of her vision taken up by it. The headline, in bold black letters, read:

QUARANTINE FOR WHINNYAPOLIS?
AN INVESTIGATIVE REPORT BY GUM SHOE

The report went on to mention something about a plague and a coverup, but my host was too entranced by the name to focus on anything else.

“You know, Gummy, if you keep staring at it, your eyes’ll fall outta yer head.”

My host-Gummy, I presumed-put the paper down, looking up at her new guest. A unicorn, blue with a white mane approached and sat down, trying her best not to giggle. We were in a coffee shop, a real one, which served real coffee and had an outdoor patio and everything. Behind my guest, I could see ponies of various color and kind milled about on their own daily business, enjoying the pure, unadulterated sunshine radiating from a cloudless blue sky. Smiles were upon the faces of every pony I could see. Fillies and colts played a game in the streets as their parents shopped at the vendor stalls. This was a market day in Whinnyapolis, and it was the single most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I wanted to look at it longer, get a better view of prewar Equestrian life, but this wasn’t me, catapulted through the smoke and fire of deadly and total war back to a happier time; I was merely reliving a memory, and thus was at the mercy of the pony that had lived it, all those years ago.

“Hey Blue Step.” I heard (and felt! Somepony had a crush…) my host say with an embarrassed chuckle, “Can you believe it? All these years, and finally my name’s in print!”

Her friend, Blue Step, smiled. “I saw that! Ah, I’m so happy for you! ‘Gum Shoe, investigative reporter’!”

My host laughed out loud at this. “Who knows, maybe I’ll even be as famous as you one day!”

Their laughter lasted until the end of the memory.
oooOOOooo

I came to in darkness, and on one of the mattresses. While it had been dusk when I went into the orb, night had fallen fully by now. Both Sunny and Oya were sleeping soundly-one of them must have moved me while I was in the orb.
Removing the recollector, I thought about what I had seen. Sunny days, smiles, laughter…even in the midst of a war and possible quarantine for…something, these ponies had still held on to what made them ponies: friendship, happiness, the knowledge that no matter what happened in the world around them, they would be able to get through it together, and that everything would be sunshine and rainbows.

Only it hadn’t. Everything had ended in smoke and fire, death and destruction. Where before ponies had gathered in coffee shops to celebrate career success, and newfound fame; where colts and fillies could scamper about without a care in the world; where the sun shone warm and bright…now none of that was possible. Not with the same inherent joy or innocence that Gum Shoe and Blue Step had shown. Everything today was done out of desperation. There was no hope, there was only staving off the inevitable starvation or violent death or slow decline into insanity. Ponies dressed in scavenged armor killed each other for scraps, or sometimes even for some twisted fun, or were slaughtered by weird copies of what we once called princesses. This world was now a callous prison for those within it…and now I was in it too.
It was with a heavy sigh I lied down and closed my eyes. Sleep wouldn’t come easy, not with these new thoughts swirling in my brain. This was no longer merely a field expedition; reality had hit me, and hit me hard.

I was nearly asleep when I felt a hoof nudging me awake. My first reaction was to strike out, before the more rational part of my mind told that they wouldn’t be nudging me awake if they were trying to kill me, whoever this was. I opened my eyes to a stranger-no, not a stranger, the pony who sat at the cinderblock-and-plywood table which served as a front desk for Harbor’s hotel. “Close Call?” he asked in hushed tones.

My answer was cautious. “Yes…?”

“You have a visitor.”

Level up!
Perk Added: Toughness-You’ve been shot, blown up, and had ceilings dropped on you, but all that trauma has made you more resistant to damage! +10% Damage Resistance

Author's Note

Goddesses, this took awhile.

Firstly, I'd like to apologize to all of you for the long wait. I could offer up excuses, but when you break it all down, there really is no excuse. So I'm sorry everypony, I won't leave you all hanging like that again. I promise Chapter 6 will be much faster coming than this was.

Now that's out of the way, I'd like to thank Kkat, per usual, for creating this world that we try to fill with our own stories, and of course I'd like to thank all of you for reading this story-there are many, many out there, and you clicked on and read this one, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Also, I'm still looking for anypony who'd like to do some cover art! I have no money, and I don't care if you think you suck-if you want to draw, have at! I am also looking for an editor, so please, if you'd like to help me out, feel free to message me!

Happy reading everypony! And, as always, constructive criticism is always appreciated!

6: In Which a Journey Lengthens, and Distraction Abounds

Chapter 6: In Which a Journey Lengthens, and Distraction Abounds

“Magnus gubernator et scisso navigat velo.”
"A great pilot can sail even when his canvas is rent."
-Seneca the Younger, Letter XXX

If there is one thing I can still hold onto, one sliver of my former life, it’s my family. My family, who, even essentially trapped by the cold grey walls of Stable 81, remain safe. They don’t have to worry about starvation; they don’t have to worry about being raped and tortured for the sick pleasure of ponies driven to insanity by the broken world around them. My mother, father, and sister don’t have to worry about being shot down by an eldritch super-being in the middle of the ruined courtyard of a former government building. I didn’t have to weep over their lifeless bodies, or leave them behind as I fled the mere possibility of more death descending out of a stale, sunless sky. Even through the horrors I have experienced in my short time in the Wasteland, I can still hold onto my family. In the chaotic sea of constant strife and turmoil, to be perfectly cliché…they are my anchor. Even deep underground, they are still my closest friends and confidants. I hardly knew anypony else.

So imagine my surprise when, in the early hours of the morning, in a makeshift tent nestled in the corner of another makeshift tent nestled in the ruins of, as far as I understood, one of Equestria’s largest ports, a pony comes to me to tell me that I have a guest.

* * *

My thoughts formed slowly, having to sluggishly wade through the haze of utter exhaustion, and I didn’t answer immediately. I was put on edge, though; who would come to visit me? Or, rather, who wanted me dead/captured? As my mind began to clear, I ran through the very short list of acquaintances I’d made so far, and found none of them had any reason to see me. It’s not like I’d left any sort of dent in their lives. Well, except Sunny, Oya, and now Knight Honey Heart, but two of them were already with me, and the third was off doing whatever Steel Rangers did when they weren’t blowing shit up. As I came to the bottom of my mental list, my eyes grew wide.

There were two ponies who definitely had reasons for coming to see me. Just as I definitely had reasons for not wanting them to see me.

“O-okay. Uhm, I’ll go talk to them then, I guess?” I stammered quietly, trying not to wake my companions. I had no plan of escape or evasion, but if the manure was going to hit the fan, I figured they should get at least a couple more minutes of rest. Goddesses knew how hard that was to come by out here. The clerk pony nodded, and led me out of our little “room”. In the low light of the lobby, I could make out a small form: unicorn, female…lime green?

“Parum?!”

The unicorn filly smiled. “Luna’s nonexistent ballsack, Close, you’re a hard pony to find.”

* * *

“After you left, Deduc Indagator stopped by. Started talking about how this was going to mean new things for the Stable, how we were going to ‘rise from the ashes’ or some shit. Had no idea what she was talking about ashes for until I came out here.” Parum Sororem, my little sister, explained. It was morning now; she’d passed out shortly after arriving to give me a heart attack. We were in the same café in which Sunny had puked all over my lap not a few days before, as if to complete the surrealism. I had a Sparkle-Cola; Parum, to my (ignored) chagrin, had a bottle of Stalliongrad’s Finest and a shot glass. She still wore her Stable 81 barding, but had found somepony to augment it with armor plating, as well as a sheath of sorts for the ornate Zebra spear across her back. The armor was well-crafted, as if whoever she’d found to craft it had done it before. The weapon was simply a thing of beauty; nearly as long as Parum in her diminutive form, the shaft was beautifully hoof-crafted wood, inlaid with swirling designs reminiscent of crashing ocean waves. These designs continued onto a gleaming blade, itself accounting for nearly half of the entire length of the weapon. Both her weapon and armor bore bloodstains-whether it was hers or her enemies’, I couldn’t tell, and really didn’t want to know.

It was unreal, seeing her like this. Little Parum Sororem, who barely two weeks ago had only just received her cutie mark, was already more of a hardened Wastelander than I was. “How long have you been out here?” I asked tentatively.
Parum shrugged. “I dunno, couple weeks? I left the day after you did.” She answered, “Mom and Dad didn’t believe me when I said I was going after you. Well, I guess Mom did, but Dad sure as hell didn’t.” She giggled at this last part-giggled! As if she were just playing an extended game of hide and seek!

I lost it. “Why did you come out here?!” I almost yelled, “Parum, you could’ve been killed! Or worse! This isn’t Equestria anymore, we’re not receiving updates because of a glitch! T-there’s monsters, and-and crazy ponies, and-and-and…urrgh!” I wasn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know, but still! The Wasteland wasn’t a place for a little filly! I told her this, and she just laughed again-another girlish giggle, as if I were telling her a funny story I’d heard the other day. “What is so Luna-damned funny?” I finally shouted. My sister just shook her head, and turned on the radio function of her PipBuck. A familiar, energetic voice greeted me, as well as everypony within earshot:

“Gooooooooooooood morning, fillies and gentlecolts! It’s your master of ceremonies, DJ PON-3, here once again to bring you some-you guessed it-news!

“Seriously, what is with all these Stable ponies lately? Was there a riot? An insurrection? Somepony fart? Hot on the tail of our-ahem-beloved Egghead came yet another little troublemaker. Now, she may be just a filly, but she’s just as much of a troublemaker as her stable buddy. Not to worry though, my faithful listeners-nopony’s gonna die just by being around her-nopony who doesn’t deserve it, at least. Nah, this little Hellion waltzed right into the ol’ Falmalla Ruins and gave those raider’s what-for! She ain’t done, either: word on the street is she’s begun her own crusade against those nasty ponies. So if y’all see a little green filly with a Goddess-damned spear on her back, please, give some food or a place to stay-she’s here to help, and between the Twins and the Egghead, you’ll need all the help you can get. Now here’s some Sapphire Shores…”

She flicked the radio back off, grinning at me, saying nothing. There was no need for her to; the eminent DJ PON-3 had that covered.
I changed the subject, mentally brushing aside the fact that my little sister-who used to paint her hooves with stolen art supplies-now painted her hooves in the blood of her enemies. “Look, ‘Hellion’ or not, we’ve got to get back anyway. This is no place for you-hell, it’s barely a place for me. At this point, I’d say I’ve accomplished my mission, above and beyond the initial expectations, and thus we can happily return home-“

“No!” Parum interrupted. Pouring herself another shot and downing it, she glared at me. I had to admit, she seemed to be handling her liquor much better than Sunny had, or that I ever could. “Don’t you see, Close? Don’t you see what these ponies go through every day? I didn’t just stumble outside and happen to run into you; I’ve been out here as long as you have, and I have seen some fucked up shit! I’ve killed bad ponies by the dozens! Scores, even! I’ve seen what they do to ponies who aren’t so lucky as you and I are! Shit’s fucked, Close…and I’m not going back until it’s not fucked up anymore. I figured you’d want to help, but I guess my own brother cares more about some stupid expedition for a piece of ass than ponies’ lives.”

“Deduc Indagator is not just a piece of ass!” I countered, though I could feel the ground of my argument crumbling away underneath me. The filly had a point, as much as I didn’t want to admit it; if we’d been having this conversation just a few days ago I probably would’ve dismissed it as the overly romantic fantasies of a misinformed filly. But I had seen the chaos of the wasteland with my own eyes, had experienced it as soon as I stepped from my home. So yeah, Parum Sororem had a point.

“Lead Researcher? What kind of a name is that?” Oya asked, trotting up to our table. She eyed Parum suspiciously-we’d gone to sleep after she arrived, and left before either Oya or Sunny were up.

“It’s a title. It’s complicated. Oya, this is my sister, Parum Sororem. Parum, this is Oya.” I explained quickly. Oya nodded respectfully. My sister’s squee was so high-pitched I couldn’t even hear it.

“Close, te nimium stultus, you didn’t tell me you knew a zebra!” She squealed, nearly tackling Oya and throwing her hooves around her in a tiny, overenthusiastic hug. Oya’s eyes widened, her pupils shrank to pinpricks as Parum chattered excitedly. “Where did you live? Are there more of you? How did you learn Pony? Are you white with black stripes, or black with white stripes? What does your glyphmark mean? Do you really eat the hearts of your enemies?”

“Please…let go of me…” Oya begged quietly, shivering imperceptibly. I could sense that the fact Parum was my sister was the only thing keeping her alive right now. The sense didn’t last long, however; Oya finally lost her patience. “Let…go!” she shouted, planting her hooves and shifting her weight, throwing my sister to the side. I assume she meant to let go and allow my sister to crash into a table; she never got that far. Parum tightened her grip on my striped friend, and used the momentum of the failed throw to reverse it. I would have smiled if my own sister hadn’t just thrown a zebra at me.

“OhmygoshI’msosorry!” Parum yelped as we disentangled ourselves, sitting flat on her flank, her hooves covering her mouth, her eyes wide.

“It…is of no consequence, kidogo shujaa.” Oya replied with a grunt, brushing herself off, “You are quite martially skilled. Perhaps even more so than I. I travel with your brother, although I come from an outpost south of here. I am the only Oya, although yes, there are more Zebras. How did you learn pony? I am what I am, and I do not appreciate questions about my family. Anything else?” Parum shook her head.

* * *

“So who’s the brat? You get yourself a girlfriend?” Sunny chided, looking up from a two-century-old Ironshod Firearms catalog as we stepped into Harbor’s museum, “Shoulda figured ya for a filly-fooler. She is cute, though.” I suddenly felt ready to be violently sick on the floor for a multitude of reasons. Parum, from what I could tell, felt suddenly ready to just be violently violent. She charged Sunny, a light green glow enveloping and unsheathing her spear. Sunny drew Chandrahasa, but it was knocked from her telekinetic grasp by Parum’s spearbutt. Quick as a whip, Sunny drew her other pistol and fired; Parum was too close, however, and the round missed. The spearpoint swung around, point at Sunny’s throat. Sunny closed her eyes, as if concentrating. It all happened in a space of seconds, but I was still too late to warn Parum.

“Sunny, no!” I shouted, squeezing my eyes shut. She didn’t listen.

Even with my eyes closed, the flash from Sunny’s horn nearly blinded me. I opened my eyes as my ears were assaulted with the screams of my little sister. She was stumbling about, one hoof covering her eyes, and she shouted profanities so colorful our mother back in the stable was weeping and had no idea why. Her spear lay abandoned on the ground, with fresh blood adorning the blade. I shifted my gaze to a bleeding Sunny, who was frantically digging a healing potion out of her saddlebags, a deep gash in her shoulder.

“Fucking cunt-licking, Luna-and-Celestia-penetrate-me-with-their-horns, apple-fucking dammit!” Parum shouted, now back on all fours and blinking rapidly. Oya was trying to calm her down, speaking slowly and telling her that it was only temporary.

“What is going on in here? I heard-Goddesses above!” Curator exclaimed, looking like he was about to be sick at the sight of Sunny’s wound. “Mr. Call, I demand to know what is going on!”

”Well, uhm, heh, well what happened, you see…” I stammered, not entirely sure how to frame a near double-homicide. I cleared my throat, and tried again: “There was a…misunderstanding, just a friendly skirmish, no need to worry!”

“’Misunderstanding’ my nonexistent nutsack! The fuck was that about?” Sunny grouched, gingerly massaging her recently healed wound.

“You said my brother was fucking me, you braindead cow!” Parum shot back in her general direction. If I remembered correctly, it was going to be the better part of an hour before she stopped seeing stars.

Sunny blinked. “Wait, she’s your sister?” I nodded. “Well aren’t you a feral little guttersnipe.” Parum snarled, launching herself in an assault in the wrong direction and hitting the wall instead.

“Will somepony please explain just what is going on?” Curator asserted, “I will not have ponies trying to kill each other in my museum! There’s enough of it out there, I won’t stand it in here as well!”

A grin spread across my companion’s features; it was an evil grin, a grin which foretold much mischief and…evilness. “What is going on is that No Balls Junior and I are going to have a drink, is what’s going on. C’mon, kid, some Pferdmeister’ll fix that right up.” She said, as she sauntered to Parum. She threw a hoof around her shoulders, and began to guide her out of the building.

Parum bristled, swatting away the hoof. “Why the fuck would I get a drink with you? Are you brain damaged?”

“I’m buying the drinks, and you owe me for trying to kill me, that’s why.” Sunny replied. Parum paused for a moment, nodded, and allowed Sunny to lead her back outside.

* * *

“I wanted to thank you again for obtaining the Declaration for me, Mr. Call.” Curator acknowledged. We were in his office in the back of the museum; a small room which, in happier times, had most likely been used by the warehouse supervisor. It’d looked like Curator hadn’t really changed it much; an old mattress and blanket occupied the corner, but that was about it from what I could assume, assuming the original inhabitant hadn’t needed to sleep here.

“I’d say the pleasure was all mine; however, that entire venture was horrifying, as well as both physically and emotionally scarring.” I opined, “So really, I’ll just thank you for our agreed upon payment and leave it at that.”

Curator coughed into his hoof before answering, gruffly: “Very well, Mr. Call. To the point then. South of Harbor and slightly West of New Falmalla there is a shopping mall-in the same area you nearly starved in, if you recall.” I did-there would never again be a time where I stopped recalling it. “You may find a few things in there of interest.”

Oya beat me to the punch. “So when you offer us information, you instead mean that you’ll give us a vague idea in an area more lifeless than the rest of this lifeless world? Do you think we are fools, Curator?” She had a point.

“Well, Ms. Oya, is it? I said I could give you information on your pursuers, and I have. What’s left of The Mall of Equestria may have some of the answers you seek. The only other thing I can offer is the age-old advice telling you to bring enough food.”

Oya fumed, her anger radiating off of her; it was almost like sitting next to a fire. I couldn’t altogether blame her, though; after all we’d been through, and this was the most we got? Hell, if I wasn’t too busy processing that my sister was a hard-drinking, combat-experienced Hellion of the wastes, my brain may actually have the capacity to be angry right along with my striped friend.

“Come on Oya, I guess we’d better make sure Sunny and Parum haven’t killed each other.” I grumbled, standing up and making my way out of the office. Oya followed, though not without looking back first.

“Cave quid dicis, quando, et cui, Curator. Caveat actor, Curator.” She said darkly. Curator merely nodded, the ghost of a smile on his wizened face.

* * *

“And-and he says ‘Mater doleo, sed intellegere non possum tibi’!” Parum finished in peals of foolish laughter, doubled over the table, hoof pounding on the already dented steel. “Some Pferdmeister” so far amounted to two empty bottles and a half-drunk one; had we talking that long? Was there even all that much alcohol left in the Wasteland?

“Pissant…I…I have no idea whatcher sayin’…” Sunny slurred, giggling nonetheless.

“Exactly!” My sister exclaimed, erupting into a fresh fit of giggles.

“At least they’re not trying to kill each other, yes?” My striped friend offered. I could only agree; this was simply bizarre. Sunny: surly and reticent, usually only getting along with the bottle and having a love-hate relationship with money. Parum Sororem: bubbly, hyperactive, incredibly aggressive yet genuinely a kind-hearted pony…and apparently an alcoholic. Suddenly their shotgun friendship made more sense.

“Well look who’sh back! What’d you find, No Balls?” Asked the brown unicorn, gaining a frown from the unicorn filly. “What, did I shay somethin’ wrong, Pissant?”

“His name’sh…name’s Close Call, Slutbag. An’ my name isn’t Pisshant, it’s…it’s…” Parum paused, confused, “Fuck, what is my name?”

“It’sh Piss…Pissant. Duh. An’ my name’sh not Slutbag, it…it’s…fuck. Sunny!” Sunny declared.

“Could we focus, please?” I attempted, “We kind of need to plan our next move, considering Curator’s left us in the dust on this. So if we could focus on the situation at hand? If that’s ok with you?”

Oya inspected the drained bottles, and took a sniff at what was left in the partially consumed one. She coughed, wrinkling her nose. “How do ponies drink this?”

“Like this! Gimme!” My sister squealed. An aura of lime green magic enveloped the bottle and floated it, bobbing slightly, to the already inebriated Parum Sororem. She telekinetically tipped it, draining it of its dark, foul-smelling liquid much faster than one could reasonably expect from such a young filly. Then, just as would be expected of such a young filly after so much alcohol consumption, Parum violently threw up and passed out on the table. Sunny, in a show of solidarity, did the same.

“I don’t know if we can handle another Sunny, Close Call of Stable 81.” Oya remarked solemnly.

“I don’t either, Oya. I don’t either.” I sighed. Ponies were beginning to crowd around…again. Only this time, I guess it was more to catch a glimpse of the famous(ish) Hellion more than to gawk discourteously at a drunken mare and her travelling companion. Either way, it would have behooved us to leave. Oya must have felt the same way, because without a word she scooped my little sister upon her back and began to make her way out of the warehouse. “Yeah, leave me with the heavy one, why don’t you…” I muttered, repeating the arduous task of dragging Sunny’s carcass and following Oya.

Once we were out of the massive, dilapidated warehouse, Oya turned, heading now towards the river. She slowed her pace to allow me to catch up-carrying a filly on one’s back was a bit easier than dragging a full-grown mare by her tail.

“Wha…what’re you doin’ t’ me…” Parum groaned, “I’m not drunk, I jus’ had a li’l accident…”

“We’re going to sober you up.” The zebra replied flatly. “We have no time for this; and we have tarried long enough.”

I blinked, confused. “I didn’t know we were on a schedule…” I mused. Granted, the sooner the better, of course. The sooner I found out what the deal with these twins were, the sooner I could take Parum and go home. Maybe see if Oya wanted to come too-I was sure she’d like it, being a zebra and everything. Sunny could die in a fire for all I cared. “Where are we going, anyway? This isn’t the way back to the museum-at least, I don’t think.”

She just giggled as her filly cargo fought for consciousness. “I do not believe we are welcome in the Museum of Harbor anymore, Close Call of Stable 81, and thus do not have the running water that accommodated that privilege. No, the sea will work just fine. Unless you have a better idea?”

It took only the time to actually taste Sunny’s tail for me to decide that no, throwing them in the cold coastal waters of Harbor suited me just fine.

* * *

“You coulda just let us sleep, stolide…” My sister groused. Throwing her and Sunny into the sea hadn’t cured them of their drunkenness, but it had woken them up. It was also immensely satisfying.

“Goddesses, my head…” Sunny also groused as she lied on the cold floor. It were as if she were trying to assimilate herself into the broken concrete, with all four legs splayed, her head as low as she could possibly get it. We’d slept in and were squatting in one of the derelict apartment buildings outside of the actual settlement, at least, one of the more solid-looking apartment buildings outside of the settlement. The walls, while cracked and broken by the ravages of time and megaspell warfare, still held solidly, and unlike the MoM hub, the ceiling two floors above us didn’t look like it was ready to collapse anytime soon. Compared to any other option we had out here, it was a good place to bed down while we figured out our next move. And by we, I guess I meant…me. Oya looked to me expectantly. Parum and Sunny looked to the floor morosely, although I was sure if they weren’t hungover, they’d be looking to me as well. Since when was I a leader? Or was I just a stand in until Parum or Sunny took over? I shuddered at the thought of Sunny actually leading-or rather, trying to lead-this misfit group of ponies and zebra. “So…where do we stand?” I asked.

“We have information on where to go, yet we are not going there. That is where we stand.” Oya stated, perhaps a tad impatiently. What was her deal?

“Where we stand,” I cleared my throat, “is where we need to go is nearly completely devoid of life, to include edible food and drinkable water.” I sighed, “So we need to purchase supplies. Food, water, medical supplies, ammunition for Sunny, what have you. I have…” I checked my PipBuck for what felt like (and probably was) the first time in days, “…thirty-seven caps. How about you, Oya?” The zebra just shook her head. “Oh yeah…no saddlebags. Sunny? Parum?”

“No caps…accept…favors…” Parum muttered into the floor.

“No caps…spent…booze…” Sunny muttered into the floor.

“And you wonder why ponies want to kill you.” I sighed.

* * *

“So what did you mean, ‘accept favors’?” I asked, keeping an eye on my E.F.S. for threats as we walked. Once Parum and Sunny had (mostly) sobered up, it’d been decided that we needed money before we headed anywhere to the Southwest. Sunny had offered the advice of going back to Sukawaka and seeing if the Gelders had any open contracts. Parum Sororem had requested we stop by New Falmalla on the way, and I had to say I was tentatively excited to finally be able to visit, considering we never actually arrived there last time.

“Huh?”

“When I asked about our money situation, you said you didn’t have any, that you accepted favors. What was that all about?”
She laughed. “Oh, right! Ponies heard about me on the radio, and they were so happy that I was doing favors for them, they just kinda gave me stuff.”

Sunny snorted derisively. “And what sort of favors would those be, Pissant?” she asked, winking at her. Parum blushed a red I didn’t believe possible on the little green unicorn.

“II don’t do anything like…like that!” she squealed, “I just kill bad ponies, or deliver packages or something! I mean, sometimes they pay me, but…”

“But what?” I asked darkly.

“…Sunny only bought the first two bottles. The third was mine.” I had to keep myself from facehoofing. She cleared her throat, changing the subject. “We really should at least stop by home…”

I stopped and blinked, surprised. “Home? Why? I’m not finished out here yet.” I stated simply. There really wasn’t much else to it. Well, there was also the fact that at this point, I probably couldn’t find my way back there anyway. I was sure it was on my PipBuck map, but it was outside the city, and I had no idea of any landmarks that could reliably tell me where it was. In essence, it’d be akin to heading to the Mall of Equestria without any food or water. Mostly, though, it was the same reason I had related to Sunny, and again to Parum: “My mission was to find out what happened. Sure, there was the end of the war, but if there is to be a complete report, I want what was behind the decision to drop the bombs.” I left out that I wouldn’t feel right going home while those twins were still around, either.

Parum grew quiet. “Patris et matris desiderium valde…” she nearly whispered, her golden eyes downcast.

“I don’t care if they miss me.” I said, “I was sent on a mission by Deduc-“

“For fuck’s sake, Close!” She shouted, stopping us in the middle of the buckled street, “Enough about fucking Deduc Indagator!
What about our parents?”

“What about them?” I yelled back, cringing inwardly as the filly shrunk away from me, “All they ever cared about were my studies! All they cared about was prestige! You weren’t there to see the look on Mother’s face when I was assigned to Linguistics! And what about Deduc Indagator? What is your deal, Parum?!”

At this Parum regained herself and regained a bit of ground to stand on. She took a step forward, using it as a springboard for her next outburst. “She’s fucking using you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, “She never expected you to come back! You were supposed to die out here, Close!”

“Perhaps it would be wiser to lower our voices?” Oya chimed in, warily eyeing the skies, “Or better yet, save this conversation for another time, yes?” I didn’t respond, I couldn’t respond, my mind was tied up trying to process what Parum had just said. Using me? Sent me out to die? Never supposed to come back? That was impossible, and I told her this, my voice hardly above a whisper. Parum opened her mouth, but Sunny interrupted her.

“Too late, we’ve got company.” She said, drawing Chandrahasa and joining Oya in her skyward gaze. I finally looked up as well; in the distance, too far for my E.F.S. but closing in fast, I could make out three airborne shapes.

“Everypony run!” I shouted. Without another word we shot off, and the spirit or Loyalty, each of us heading in a different direction.

HALT, CLOSE CALL OF STABLE 81! THE GODDESS COMMANDS YOU! A voice of voices bellowed in my brain. I almost stopped, the perceived authority was so great. I kept running nonetheless, mentally adding alicorns to the list of problems I needed to either get rid of or find a way to defend against before I even thought of going back home. I ran into one of probably hundreds of generic dilapidated buildings, hiding underneath a desk. On a whim, I opened it up to see if its previous owner had left anything. I wasn’t sure why, but they’d left twenty caps! Sweet! I immediately regretted this thought, as it would make a terrible last thought as a shielded emissary of the Goddess crashed through the wall. The entire structure rumbled and shook, with pieces of the already-collapsing ceiling coming down around us. What was it with buildings about to fall on me?! I curled up tighter underneath the desk, praying to (so I thought) nonexistent Goddesses that the alicorn didn’t find me, or that this building collapsed and crushed me before it did.

“COME OUT, LITTLE PONY! WE KNOW YOU ARE HERE!” It screamed in my mind. I curled up tighter, wanting to whimper but not wanting to give myself away. Be Strong, Be Awesome! Two other voices called; separate from the monster seeking me but equal, nay, greater than, in the pervasiveness in which they flooded my mind. Fuck you, I’m going to die here, and there’s nothing you can do about it, whoever you are… I mentally fired back.

“DO NOT BE AFRAID, CLOSE CALL OF STABLE 81!” The Goddess’ will screamed in my mind. I could hear its hoofsteps coming closer, hear the shimmering of its shield. More pieces of the building fell as it spoke, larger ones at that. Suddenly the wall in which the monster had crashed buckled, with what was left of the ceiling coming to rest shakily upon the half-destroyed support columns inside, judging by the slant above me coupled with more rumbling coming from upstairs. The alicorn paid this development no heed-it actually dissolved its shield, taking a few more steps forward as it searched for me. “WE PROMISE WE WON’T HURT YOU…” It almost cooed, its glistening black body inches from my hiding desk. Be Strong! Be Awesome! Cried the two voices in my head again. I didn’t answer this time, I could only mentally whimper as I contemplated my inevitable doom. To this day I still cannot truly say whether my next actions were of my own accord, or of those of somepony else.

Warfare and its aftermath had finally taken their final toll on my refuge; there was one final groan, akin to that of a great beast that has finally fallen to the blade of a mighty warrior, and the building which at one point had stood as a monument to a new Equestrian working middle class shuddered and began to collapse. At that same moment, I leapt forward, feeling more propelled forward, both as if I had been bucked from behind and pulled by some unseen force toward the other door. The alicorn finally noticed, and it would have taken her a mere fraction of a second to raise her protective shielding, but it was a fraction of a second she did not have as she was crushed by the falling concrete and wood mass from the floor above.I didn’t see this transpire; as I fell, rolled, and began running to the other side to safety, I heard only the gruesome splat as I dived through the door-less doorframe and into freedom.

I stopped to look and see if the monster had made it through as well, before remembering the sound of its demise. Safe, at least for the moment, I dug into my saddlebags and fished out my two figurines. I was amazed to see that despite all I’d been through, they looked exactly the same as when I acquired them. Hell, the way they looked, it was probably the same as when they had been made. As I looked at them, I couldn’t help but think of these small figurines…as actual ponies. I mean, of course they weren’t actual ponies; that’d be insane. But something about them…I shook my head to clear it. I couldn’t hear any screaming or gunshots, but that didn’t mean the danger had passed. I didn’t have time to ruminate on the equinity of two small statuettes, no matter how unnerving it may or may not have been. So instead, I occupied my mind and time thinking of names for them.

“Let’s see…” I muttered, “Here we have Appleflank…” And once again, there was a brief pain in my skull like somepony had bucked it, but I ignored it and moved on to the blue one.

Back in the Ministry of Morale hub I’d only been able to look upon her briefly before the Goddess’ lackeys had arrived. Looking more closely, I really…liked her mane. The colors, aggressively juxtaposed against this grey, broken world and everything in it, contradicting all which the Wasteland apparently stood for. It wasn’t just her mane, either; her whole being, if you will, radiated a color, a cleanliness, a purity which itself declared war on what Equestria had become. It wasn’t just the Pegasus either; the orange one, Appleflank (ow) was the same way. What to call her, though?

“Rainbow Dash?”

I jumped and whirled around to face the voice behind me, coming face-to-face with a floating metal globe-a spritebot. “Watcher?” I tried. I didn’t know if anypony else spoke via spritebot. After a thought, I added, “Who is Rainbow Dash?”

The floating (and creepily stealthy) orb was silent for a time before speaking in its monotone, inflectionless voice. “Where did you find her?“ It asked. I tried to hide the cyan statuette with my body, stepping in front of it, but the orb merely swerved around me, now once again at my back. “And is that…Applejack?! I didn’t know there were any more of these…”

I turned around, once again facing the spritebot, my confusion equal with my irritation. “Could you please tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”

“Have you found any friends yet?” The ‘bot asked.

I paused, thinking. “Well Oya says she’s my friend. Sunny says she’s not, and I found my sister. Does that count? I did find more ponies-well, sorta-who want to capture and/or kill me, if that counts for anything.” I blinked, and thought for another moment. “Don’t change the subject! What were you talking about, Rainbow Dash and Applejack?”

The bot-or rather, whoever was behind the bot-sighed. It was certainly an odd sound; a sigh filtered through the airwaves, robbed of inflection. “How much do you know about the Ministries?”

I shrugged. “Well, my Stable was partially funded by the Ministry of Arcane Sciences, the Ministry or Morale apparently dealt with parties and, for motives I still can’t understand, interrogation. You’re talking about those, right?”

Watcher bobbed, which I took as a nod, but was probably just an involuntary movement of the bot’s levitation spell. “Those, yes…but there’s more. I can’t go into the details right now, but before the war there were six Ministries, run by a group of six friends. Two of them are sitting right in front of you-well, kinda. Rainbow Dash, who headed the Ministry of Awesome, and Applejack, who ran the Ministry of Wartime Technology. I’m just surprised you found their statuettes.”

My mind clicked over as I looked at the orange and cyan ponies. Ministry of Wartime Technology? “Where have I heard that before…?” I muttered, and then answered myself almost immediately, “The Steel Rangers! They said something about the MWT! How’re they involved with all this?”

I was answered by the sound of fading tuba as the spritebot floated away.

* * *

“Parum? Paruuum?” I called out into the urban wilderness. I had been wandering in what I thought was a vaguely southeastern direction for an hour now, at least it was an hour according to my PipBuck clock; which out here was about as much useful as the thing got. Honestly, I was never paying enough attention to it to look for enemies (which I should work on), the compass actively tried to kill me for whatever fucked-up reason, and the rest I’d simply hardly used since being birthed into this radioactive abortion of a former nation. It was because of the first reason that I was blindsided by a lime green artillery shell.

“Are you stupid?!” my sister half-whispered, half-shrieked. “You’re gonna bring every alicorn, raider, and mutant from here to Manehattan down on your head, shouting like that!”

I wasn’t paying attention; I was too busy being elated. “Parum! You’re alive! How did you escape?” I cried, wrapping my hooves around her in a tight hug.

She answered first my shoving me away and shoving her hoof in my mouth, then with actual words. “I didn’t escape; I killed the bitch.” She hissed, “I hid in a building, waited until she flew by, jumped on her back, and stabbed the ever-loving shit out of her. Now will. You. Shut. Up?” I nodded, and she let go. “Have you seen the others?” she asked, looking around. I shook my head. Parum looked away, thinking for a moment, and then turned back to me. “Much as I can tell, we shouldn’t be far from New Falmalla. We’ll do better waiting for them there then wandering around here shouting for them.” She said, the last part more directed at me than I liked.

“Let’s go then.” I muttered quietly.

* * *

It was…unsettling coming back here. As my sister and I approached New Falmalla, I could swear that I spied two figures on the road. Figures which I knew, even though I couldn’t see them at that moment, would coalesce into identical ponies in ratted, dirty business suits. I blinked, and any trace of the figures, real or imagined, was gone. I don’t rightly know why this was unsettling to me; we were approaching from inside the city as opposed to the outskirts of it this time. Perhaps it was the apprehension of not knowing where the rest of our group was, the feeling that they could be anywhere, in any sort of situation…I snorted. Who was I kidding? If anything, it was usually Sunny and Oya getting me out of situations, not the other way around. My own little sister could handle herself better than I could out here.

As with Sukawaka, the entrance to New Falmalla was guarded; a fallen skyscraper provided a rear wall to the settlement, with ramshackle guard towers placed evenly along it and a convenient break in the middle which the residents had converted into a makeshift gate. As we approached, the guardponies’ weapons-more pony-sized rifles and battle saddles-trained on us, even if the ponies on the ground weren’t paying as much attention as they should have been. We soon saw why.

“I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is!” One of the guardponies, a blue earth pony, was explaining to a familiar-looking brown unicorn and zebra, “The zebra will have her weapon confiscated and she will have to remain in the favela, there is no room for discussion!”
“’The Zebra’ has a name!” Came Sunny’s voice, loud and abrasive per usual, “Her name is Oya! And what the fuck does it matter if she’s a Zebra? The war’s over you little cockbag!” Oya stood silently, flanked by two more guardponies, and although she said nothing, I could almost feel the rage building within her.

Although I was still paralyzed by the realization that Sunny could be a decent pony, Parum was of no such state. “Hey! The fuck is going on here?” She shouted, “Since when are Zebras not allowed? Slutbag might be a, well, slutbag, but she has a point: the war’s over.” As I trotted up beside her, I could hear the guards muttering:

“Is that the Hellion?”

“She’s back already? I thought she was hunting alicorns of something.”

“Come on, don’t be stupid. What would she be then, the Mighty Alicorn Hunter? I like Hellion better anyway.”

The lead guard commiserated instead of muttering. “Look, Hellion, I wish I could help ya out, I really, do-“

I probably surprised myself more than the guards and my assembled friends by speaking up. “I know, rules are rules. Don’t worry, we understand and we won’t cause you any trouble.” I said jovially, turning to Oya before anypony else could react, and adding, “We’ll see if we can work something out, but we can’t do it here. Just…deal with it for a little bit?” Oya, stoic as ever, relented, allowing the gate guards to escort her to…wherever they took zebras, I guessed. “You’d better make sure she gets to where she’s going okay, and that she’s treated well when she gets there. I’d hate to see what would happen if a friend of the Hellion were to have any unfortunate ‘accidents’.” The guardpony said nothing, but his eyes flicked to my sister, and to the spear on her back. My point had been made. The gate to the city opened, and they let us through. I was a linguist; I knew what words to use on occasion. Even I had my moments.

As the gate closed behind us, I stopped, receiving a full view of New Falmalla for the first time. For one, it was massive, being retrofitted from the ruins of Whinnyapolis herself. For another, New Falmalla was alive. Until this point, the largest settlement I’d visited had been Harbor, a bustling merchant’s town, and this made Harbor look sleepy. It was as if I were in a twisted version of the memory orb; ponies actually bustled here, doing more than merely surviving-they were almost thriving! A part of me, a passion, which had shrunk to a miniscule size over the passing weeks, suddenly reignited. Instead of finding out why Oya was being sequestered and searching for a way to amend said situation, I desperately wanted to take a year or so compiling any and all data I could find on how the ponies here had carved such a life out of this destruction. Then I could write a report based on these data, and then…I could be published.

I shook my head hard. Later, Close, later…”So who do we need to talk to?” I asked nopony in particular.

“Well, there’s not like any actual pony in charge.” Parum offered as we walked, “At least, I don’t think so.” Her eyes lit up with an idea. “You know who would know?” I shook my head no. “Barponies!”

“Huh?”

“If anypony knows anything, it’s the barpony! I’ll go ask her while you poke around.” And with that, Parum sprinted off in what I could only assume was the direction of the bar.

“Hey, that sounds like a great idea! I’ll help!” Sunny offered.

“Nope, I’ve got it, thanks!” Parum called over her shoulder before disappearing in a throng of pedestrians.

Sunny and I stood there for a moment, confused, before Sunny began walking as well. Having nothing better to do, I followed. “So what happened with you two?” I asked.

“What’re you talking about, No Balls?”

“You and Oya. Those alicorns came, and we all split off in different directions. How’d you kill yours?”

She shook her head. “We didn’t. When they came, I took off. Didn’t even know if the bitch was following me, and I didn’t wanna find out. Next thing, I know, Oya’s grabbing me from behind a wall. Flying bitch flies by, she doesn’t come back, I guide us here, the rest is history.” She explained. Didn’t answer my question though; I felt it was safe to assume that was another story for another time-never seemed appropriate, knowing Sunny. I let the matter drop, changing the subject.

“So where are we going?” I asked. I knew Sunny had been here before at some point; she was the one that’d led us here in the first place, so she probably knew her way around.

“The bar.” She answered simply.

“Why? Parum said she had it covered.”

“Exactly. Dear sister’s hiding something, and I wanna find out what that something is.” Sunny said with a wicked grin as we came upon our destination. A low building compared to its brethren, only two stories, sandwiched between two larger complexes, there really wasn’t much to distinguish it from the rest of the ruins. A simple wooden door served as the entrance, and beside it hung a sign:

ENTER, PLEASE,
AND LEAVE SOME OF THE HAPPINESS YOU BRING!

Beneath this greeting, somepony-the proprietor, most likely-had scrawled:

ANYTHING MORE THAN THAT, YOU’D BETTER BE READY TO PAY FOR IT!

How…quaint? “What do you mean, she’s hiding something? She’s barely old enough to have her cutie mark, what could she be hiding?” I snickered as we walked in.

My snickering turned into choking as I looked to the bar. Parum Sororem was indeed asking the barpony, oddly enough a light blue pegasus about her age, for us…with her tongue…in the barpony’s mouth… I sat down hard, unable to speak. Sunny erupted in peals of laughter, rolling on the floor, soon gasping for breath. Parum and her…friend broke their, ahem, discussion, looking towards us, Parum blushing deep enough to rival the blood in her veins.

“Close! Uh, uhm, ehe…I thought you ponies were going to do…the thing…” She spluttered.

“Are ya sure that wasn’t you?!” Sunny gasped, before collapsing into another fit of howling laughter.

I just sat there, eyes wide, mouth open, with only the slightest whimpering exhalations escaping my throat.

____________________________________________________________________________________
Level up!
Perk Added-Travel Light: You’ve learned how to pack only the essentials, or you’ve just gotten quick on your hooves! While wearing light or no armor, you run 10% faster!

Author's Note

Whew! This sure didn't turn out as planned, but in a good way! Didn't take half as long as it took to get chapter five written, and even if it did, I'm much happier with the results-I hope you are too!

Per usual, I'd like to thank Kkat for crafting this world we play in, and also my various forms of inspiration as detailed in previous posts. Also, per usual, feel free to leave comments and criticism! Also, if you enjoy Close Call, tell your friends! Maybe they'll enjoy it too! I was going to put something else here...well, crap.

SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK

AUT VINCERE AUT MORI

7: In Which a Friend is Lost, But Another is Gained

Chapter 7: In Which a Friend is Lost, But Another is Gained

“Non nobis solum nati sumus ortusque nostri partem patria vindicat, partem amici.”
"Not for us alone are we born; our country, our friends, have a share in us."
-Marcus Tullius Cicero, De Officiis

“S.T.E.E.L. number four: Once again, this is Close Call, Department Head, Department of Linguistics and Literary Studies, Stable 81, also Expeditionary Pro Tempore. The purpose of this, as well as preceding and proceeding entries, is to provide both objective and subjective insights into any civilization-or lack thereof-which may or may not remain in the aftermath of the Pony-Zebra War.
The situation out here (outside of Stable 81) is…rough. Before exiting my stable, one of the scenarios briefed to me was indeed the destruction of the world via megaspell warfare. I was told that in this situation to expect widespread ruin, a desolate landscape incapable of supporting life, with magical radiation choking the very air. I was told that if I did happen to encounter anything, pony or otherwise, I should expect nothing but a twisted, misshapen…thing, made feral by generations of inbreeding, radiation, and insanity. I almost wished that had been the case. Instead, I see normal ponies, at this point seemingly unaffected by the ambient radiation in the air, living in a land which does indeed support some life, but barely enough for a pony and their family to survive on. There is no ambition; no plans for the future, only doing whatever one can to survive the day. Those who do exhibit these traits do not last long; if it weren’t for my traveling companions, I am sure I would have succumbed much sooner than now. Those living in the Equestrian Wasteland are not soft. They do not trust one another; friendship is a rarity, and a fickle one at that. In a society which ponies are killed over mere bottlecaps, one can never know just what acts somepony is capable of. Life is short and brutal; there is no childhood anymore. Those lucky enough to live to see their cutie mark have most likely experienced much more in trial and tribulation than the oldest member of Stable 81.

Yet there is, unbelievably enough, a silver lining in this cloud-covered sky. Ponies in the Equestrian Wasteland are not soft, but they are survivors. The next day is never a guarantee, but it makes this day special. Life is short and friendship is rare, but it makes things that much more special because of it. Although I have only been out here a few weeks now, I suspect there is much more I shall learn. Perhaps beauty can be found here; if not in the land anymore, at least in the Ponies who live and work in it.”

* * *

“Close! Uh, uhm, ehe…I thought you ponies were going to do…the thing…” She spluttered.

“Are ya sure that wasn’t you?!” Sunny gasped, before collapsing into another fit of howling laughter.

I just sat there, eyes wide, mouth open, with only the slightest whimpering exhalations escaping my throat.

I, in a dirty, ruined bar situated in a dirty, ruined city, which itself was situated in this dirty, ruined world, had just witnessed my little sister trade tongues with another filly. My mind tried desperately to reset its synapses, attempting desperately to make sense of what was going on. In this effort it managed only to continue gawking, as well as searing the image permanently into my memory.

Sunny, of course, was still laughing. She did pause briefly to address the pegasus filly, though. “Holy shit, Mist Chaser, Butcher’s gonna kill you!” she giggled, “You too, probably.” She added in my direction.

“Shut the fuck up Sunny!” The filly, Mist Chaser, squealed, “What do you want? You’re not even allowed in here anymore, remember?” Parum, like me, remained glued to the wood floor, blushing so deeply a small part of my mind wondered if she was going to start burning a hole in it. I’m sure she would have found that preferable. “And what’s your fuckin’ deal?” The pegasus filly shot at me.

A few of my mental synapses began firing correctly again, and I was finally able to think clearly enough to answer. Mostly, anyway. “Uhm…well…” I began, before clearing my throat and starting over, “My name’s Close Call. My companions and I have stopped here en route to Sukawaka. You’ve already met Sunny, it seems-“ The two mares locked eyes, their faces morphing simultaneously into symmetrical glares, “-and you’ve also already…met…my sister.”

“Oh, so you found ‘im! I told you it wouldn’t be too hard, didn’t I?” The filly responded happily, giving my sister a playful punch in the arm. Parum, to her credit, managed to squeak out something that sounded like “Yeah, sure”

“Hey, I’ve gotta get back, but we should all get together after I close up shop. Can’t wait to hear all the family stories.” Mist Chaser explained, giving Parum a kiss on the cheek and a quick neck nuzzle before heading back to the bar. Parum, to her credit, did not, in fact, burst into flames as I had foreseen. “Nice to meet you, Close Call! Burn in hell, Sunny!” The pegasus cheerily called back to us. I waved; Sunny bristled.

* * *

“So she seems nice…” I offered, trying to break both the silence and the awkwardness, succeeding in only the former. We were on our way to the grocery store, which the good ponies of New Falmalla had chosen to house the closest thing they had to a government. According to the eminent and enigmatic Mist Chaser, they were the best chance we had of finding out what all we could do for Oya. By this point, Sunny had stopped snickering, offering only the occasional jab at Parum, who had finally returned to her regular lime-green hue, if not to her usual talkative self. I tried again. “So how did you two, erm, meet?”

“I was looking for you…” The filly said quietly. “And…well…we hit it off…I guess.” I couldn’t figure out which was stranger to me: the fact that my sister had a marefriend; the fact that the marefriend was, in fact, a mare; or that Parum Sororem was finally at a loss for words. I was leaning heavily toward the third option. No matter how today turned out, I was sure tonight was going to be…interesting. First, however, I needed to see if we could get Oya out of her current predicament.

The sign which once greeted potential shoppers to whatever grocer’s this was had been stripped away, both by the elements and the ponies of New Falmalla, and replaced with the words “Rules N’ Shit” in black paint. Charming. As we entered, we were greeted by more black paint, this time in an arrow on the floor. This, as well as subsequent arrows led us around the battery of empty shelves and to what had most likely been a customer service counter in times past. A few ponies milled about here and there, but our attention was on the three behind the counter. Two large, brutish-looking dark red earth pony mares flanked a frail pink unicorn stallion with glasses. As we approached, all three of them narrowed their eyes. I noticed that the earth ponies were, in fact, twins.

“Sunny, always a pleasure.” The unicorn said in a gruff voice, “What the fuck do you want?”

“A drink. Seeya!” Sunny replied simply before turning and walking away. I had no idea what had just happened, but judging by her reaction, I figured we would be better off without her. Sunny just seemed to have that effect on ponies.

“And you?” the unicorn shot at me, the two others staying silent for the moment. I’d prepared an eloquent opening statement for negotiations befit for a Princess, yet as I opened my mouth I found myself interrupted by the filly at my side.

“We want our fuckin’ friend back, that’s what the fuck we want!” She squealed in her child’s voice, “Since when are zebras sent to a fuckin’ slum?”

“Since always.” The earth pony on our right responded. Despite her mass, her voice was surprisingly…breathy? “In order to efficiently facilitate day-to-day activities, up to and including the protection of the city, the founders found it necessary to segregate the zebra population from the rest of us.”

The unicorn joined in again. “Yeah, so tough shit ya little guttersnipe!” She shouted at Parum, “What the fuck does it matter to you anyway? If you love the fuckin’ stripes so fuckin’ much, why don’t ya paint some on and go fuck around with them? If I get one more pony telling me-“ A red hoof prevented her from speaking anymore. The earth pony to our left, the hoof’s owner, spoke now.

“As we said, it is just how things are done. There is a friend of yours that is a zebra, correct?” She asked. I nodded, and she continued, “In New Falmalla, these laws are the only thing separating us from the barbaric masses of the rest of the Wasteland. We cannot change them, even if we want to.

“However, there are ways to…work around them. A citizen may request a pass for one of our zebra residents. In this instance, the zebra is allowed to freely move about the city, albeit only so long as the citizen holding their pass is with them.”

“So all we need to do is get one of those passes?” Parum piped up, “Well, let’s have one then! I mean, if it’s that simple-“
The unicorn freed himself from his partner’s hoof, leaping onto the counter so he could scream directly in my sister’s face, “It’s not that fucking simple! You three are vagrants, not citizens! Hell, if it wasn’t for you, Hellion, I’d have thrown all three of you out on principle for being in the same space as that brown, shiny fuck!”

“If you truly wish to help your friend,” One of the earth ponies interrupted (at this point, I lost track of which one was speaking), “You must truly help us. You are familiar with a certain pair of…irksome twins, correct?”

I sighed. I already knew where this was going. I nodded, “Yep. Let me guess, you want me to get rid of them, right?” The twins looked at each other, a troubled look briefly passed across their faces before they nodded.

“We do not care what you do with them: placate them, distract them…just make sure they cannot bother New Falmalla. Do this, and we will let your entire group have free reign of the entire city.” The right twin said with finality. We had our marching orders, and had been dismissed.

* * *

“Well isn’t that a load of shit…” Parum grumbled once we were outside. I couldn’t help but agree with her, but there wasn’t much else we could do. Not without garnering the violent affections of a small city, in any case. We moved through the crowds, me following Parum, Parum following her own agenda. New Falmalla may not have been that large area-wise, but it was packed! From my experience so far in the Equestrian Wasteland, I would never have expected to see this many ponies in one place! Not alive, at least. It was still nothing compared to the Whinnyapolis of the memory orb, but it was nonetheless a sight to see. A comforting sight, once a pony stopped to think about it. I couldn’t put my hoof on it, but this crowd, this…constant activity felt better to me than the stable ever had. So distracted was I, I almost forgot to ask just where we were going.

“Shouldn’t we tell Oya that it’s going to take a little bit to get her out of the slums?” The unicorn filly responded.

“I thought we weren’t allowed in there?”

“We are ponies. We can go wherever we please, even if we’re not citizens.” There was a bitterness in her voice I hadn’t heard before. Irritation, violence, anger, pain, sadness; all of these I had been present for her to experience at one point or another, but this was new.

“What’s bugging you?” I asked.

Parum stopped short, bristling. “What’s bugging me?” she hissed, “What’s bugging me? Close, does nothing ever get through that yellow head of yours? I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this!” I just gaped at her, as she continued, looking into the crowd, looking past them, her volume growing the longer she went on. “It’s been over two hundred years since the end of the Great War! The megaspells were cast and everybody lost. Pony, Zebra, Griffon, everybody! And this bullshit prewar propaganda-enforced institutional racism…there’s no point! There’s no Goddess-damned fucking point!” Parum whirled on me, and I had to take a step back, “Look at Oya! What’s so different about her? Her stripes? Her homeland? Hath not a Zebra eyes? Hath not a Zebra hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Pony is? If you cut us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?” This final, accusatory note was shouted in my direction, and although it was directed to the city and this broken nation more than it was directed to me, it still struck me. It was a passage from an old Pony play, Merchant of Trottingham; a story about something mostly unrelated to the subject of the passage, but hotly debated on just which stance it took on the Zebra discrimination which had existed since long before ponies even knew of war.

“Parum…we’ll help her, don’t worry.” I told her. Once again, ponies were beginning to stop and stare at us, their faces belaying intentions other than friendship and/or magic. I meant it though; Zebra or not, predisposition to just go with the flow of postwar society or not, Oya was my friend, and I wasn’t going to stand idly by while my friends were treated like this. “Let’s go break the news…”

* * *

I never would have thought that another bombed-out, crumbling, rundown part of a bombed-out, crumbling, rundown city in a bombed-out, crumbling, rundown world could look more bombed-out, crumbling, and rundown. The Zebra Ghetto (I refused to call it a favela or sector or whatever-it was a ghetto, no fancy name was going to change that) was situated in an area what must have seen heavy conventional bombing, or something of that nature. The area’s buildings had been obliterated to little more than their foundations, and what was left looked to be about to crumble to dust at any moment. Pools of radioactive wastewater littered the pitted street, and more than a few structures bore splatters of deep red. Compared to this, the rest of New Falmalla was almost intact.

But the city’s zebras had made the best out of a terrible situation. Where the roofs and walls of homes or shops had collapsed, they had rebuilt them with what scrap they could find. They weren’t much, but they were enough to keep the rain out. The population density was much smaller here as well-unlike in the city proper, where one was literally running into ponies wherever they went, this was more along the lines of what I had grown accustomed to out here in the wastes. We looked around, but couldn’t spot our friend. In all honesty, it shouldn’t have been that hard, what with every zebra we looked at shying away and suddenly having urgent business elsewhere, as well as the assumption that Oya would do the opposite upon seeing us. “Why won’t any of them talk to us?” I wondered aloud in irritation.

“Well, if you’d been oppressed by a certain race your entire life, how would you react when they started asking questions? They don’t trust us, Close, no matter what we say.” My sister responded. I couldn’t help but agree, as depressing a fact as it was.
An idea struck me suddenly, and I stopped the next zebra that walked by. “Tu adjuves nos? Petimus ut amici.”
The zebra looked puzzled, but still answered. “Amicum an nomen?”

“Oya.”

“Numidis? Est populus eius cum ceteris quae parum sunt.”

“Tibi ago gratias!” I exclaimed happily, “Ut prolongentur dies tui, et tua noctibus jucundum!” The zebra just shrugged and walked off, leaving a smiling me and a confused Parum.

“Alright, I only understood about half of that. Maybe. What just happened?” she asked, following me tentatively as I started trotting further into the ghetto.

“He knew where Oya is!” I explained, “I asked if he’d seen her, and he told me where she would be. You were right, sis: these zebras have probably almost never had a kind word spoken to them in Pony. It’s amazing what speaking with someone in their own language’ll accomplish!”

“Oh! I never would’ve thought of that…So where are we going?”

“Oya’s people have their own area of the Favela; she should be there.”

“And where is that?”

“I have no idea!” I answered happily, “I’m just so damn glad they’re talking to me, I figure I’ll just keep asking around until I hit the right language!” Parum just sighed, muttering something about eggheads.

* * *

Dusk had fallen when we finally found a small shack, build entirely out of scrap. There was no door, only a thin cloth, and on each side of the frame were crude masks fashioned out of scrap metal. I had believed our search done already once I’d spoken to that zebra in his own tongue, and I’d been dead wrong. Parum’s words still hung true-after all they had faced since before even the war, most zebras instinctively distrusted ponies, no matter what language they spoke. It also didn’t help that my cowhili was nowhere near as proficient as my Roaman. Yet finally, after so many asked, and so many scraps of information pried from unwanting lips, these two ponies; strangers in their own land, were able to end their search for their lost friend.
The shack looked rickety enough without me banging on it, and one can’t really knock on a sheet, so after a few seconds of standing there like an idiot, I tentatively called out, “Je, una suruali?” I could hear movement inside, and a moment later the sheet ruffled, and I was met with a striped face and a golden stare.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

“Oh, you speak Pony!” I smiled happy that I didn’t have to keep butchering someone else’s language, “We’re just looking for a friend of ours, and we were told she might be here. Her name’s Oya, have you seen her?” The words were barely out of my mouth before the zebra disappeared behind the curtain. I was sure if there had been a door, he would’ve slammed it in my face. From inside there came a shuffling, and the occasional whisper. A moment later, another striped visage poked its head out. “Oya!” I almost screamed,

“We finally found you! By the stars, you wouldn’t think it’d be so hard to find someone in such a small place-“
I tried walking in, but was stopped by a gentle, if firm, hoof. “I appreciate your concern for me, Close Call and Parum Sororem of Stable 81.” She explained, “But I am afraid I will not be joining you. My place is here.”
I was flabbergasted, enough that I found myself sitting hard on the broken concrete. “But…what about the twins?” I asked, “What about your family?”

My friend glanced into the shack before looking gravely back at me. “Sisi kufanya kile ambacho ni lazima kabla ya sisi kufanya nini tunataka. We do what we must before we may do what we wish, Close Call of Stable 81,” she said, “My family-my mother, my father, my sister…your twins took them, when I was but a filly. I have been searching for them ever since. This is why I joined you in the first place.”

“Oya…”

I was interrupted once again by that gentle hoof. “Long ago I gave up any thought that my family still lives. While I still desire to find out what happened to them…” she sighed, “There are zebras here who need my help more. Nearly all here were born here. They have no little education, little knowledge.”

“Oya, it’s the post-apocalypse. No one here has any education.”

“Do not mock me!” My friend shouted, advancing fully out of the shack and causing me to shuffle back awkwardly. Just like when we’d first met, the rage burned in her eyes, and her black-and-white coat bristled. “You know of what I speak! Do not tell me you haven’t seen what they have been put through, what they have been forced to endure! They have been tossed aside like garbage and left here to rot, for no reason other than the color of their coats-all for a war long over. You said so yourself: we are no closer to finding the ones who took my family, and it shall be a time before we can follow even the scantest of leads. Until then, there is more I can do here. I may not know much, but I know how to survive, which is more than I can say about my kinsmen here. Goodbye for now, Close Call and Parum Sororem of Stable 81. Muda mrefu siku mchana na usiku mazuri na wewe.”
With that, and a flap of rotted canvas, the first real friend I’d made in the Equestrian Wasteland was gone. Even if it was only temporary, it still hurt.

* * *

“So lemme get this straight: Butcher is your mother?”

The light blue pegasus smiled and nodded. “Yep! My own flesh and blood!” she responded happily, leaning over to nuzzle my (once again) petrified sister’s neck a nuzzle. The filly, Mist Chaser, had closed bar for the night, and by now even the most drunk of stragglers had cleared out. Now it was just me, Parum, Sunny, and Mist sitting around an empty table. There was an opened bottle of Stalliongrad’s Finest in the middle of the table, with only a few drinks taken from it. Parum had taken a shot as soon as we’d walked in, but had slowed down since. Mist Chaser was drinking steadily, but seemed to be able to handle her alcohol much better than any of us. I’d taken a shot after the run-in with Oya, but stars above, that stuff was harsh; I was starting to think that alcohol simply wasn’t for me. Sunny was cut off, apparently on the virtue of just being Sunny. We’d been here a few hours, with the young barpony filling us (well, mostly me) in on the ins and outs of New Falmalla. “That’s actually what helped me meet Li’l P over here.” She continued, “She came into town looking for you, so I asked Mom if she’d seen anypony. The rest is history.”

I looked at Parum as Mist Chaser took another drink. She looked toward the barpony as she levitated the bottle and took a swig, visibly calming. “And like I said, we just kinda…hit it off.” She said quietly, “Some ponies came by demanding protection money, and I took care of them. We got to talking over celebratory drinks, and…yeah.” I nodded, smiling a bit. I couldn’t help it-she was just so adorable when she was flustered. I glanced over at Sunny, who was eyeing the half-empty bottle of vodka longingly.

“You alright?” I asked, receiving a disgruntled snort in response.

“I’m sober in a bar, how in the good golly fuck do you think I’m doing?” She snapped back at me, never once taking her eyes off of the bottle.

Mist Chaser changed the subject while she moved the bottle closer to her and Parum. “So from what you’ve told me, you need to get rid of those twins to do, well, anything, right?” I nodded. “And in order to even start anything with the twins, you need money, right?” Again I nodded. Mist Chaser seemed to mull something over for a bit before speaking again. “Well it’s not much, but I might have something for you.

“Believe it or not, alcohol is kinda fucking hard to come by these days. And believe it or not, I need alcohol to make a living. One of the guys in charge of getting me my booze has decided to sell to one of my competitors instead. If you…talk to him, and convince him that his current path is a bad idea, I’ll comp you for half of his rate. Sound good?”
Now it was my turn to be uncomfortable. This sounded like a shakedown, and it didn’t sit right with me at all. It just felt…dirty. I voiced this opinion, and the pegasus shrugged. “Hey, it is what it is. You need caps, I need to not go out of business. ‘Quid pro quo’, as your Zebra friends would say. The only reason I’m even telling you this is because you’re Parum’s brother and you need help. So either do it, help your friend and yourselves, or don’t, and be in the same spot you are now.”

She had a point, one I couldn’t argue. I sighed, and to the disappointment of two ethereal ponies in my head, agreed. “Fine, where can I find this pony?” I asked.

Mist Chaser smiled. “Edge of the city, on the East side. Name’s Quick Charge. Earth pony with a stick of dynamite for a cutie mark. Should be easy enough to find. Any questions?”

“Just one:” I responded, turning to my dear sister, “I thought you said there wasn’t anypony in charge around here? We come in, and there’s an actual city council. What the hell?”

“They’re not so much in charge, but rather they try to keep us all from killing each other.” Mist Chaser answered for her, “We didn’t elect them, and there isn’t really any reason to listen to them, except…”

“Except what?”

Mist Chaser looked me dead in the eye and I almost recoiled. There was a seriousness in that look, and more than a touch of fear, one that was uncharacteristic to the pony I had grown to know in this short time. “Those twins? The two on the council? They’re calm and cool most of the time, but…”

I was beginning to grow impatient. “But what?”

“Catch ‘em at the wrong moment, and they’re fucking terrifying. I think they’re related to the twins you’re looking for.”

Level up!
Perk added: Finesse-You might not be a master of Hoof-Fu, but you do know what you’re doing. +10% to Critical Chance

Author's Note

Dear Goddesses, never again. As you may or may not have gathered, the flash drive which held Close Call was lost, and this is the result of rebuilding an entire chapter from scratch, then combining it with what I already had once the drive was located. Per usual, I'd like to thank Kkat for the inspiration, and all of you for reading! Please, if you like the story, share it with your friends!

Now, as always, I love and appreciate your comments and input! I write and beta-write this myself, so any advice, comments, input, ANYTHING is appreciated!! I can't get any better, or fix anything that's wrong, or even really know how I'm doing if nopony says anything! So please, please, PLEASE let me know via comment, private message, whatever! :3

Stay tuned for Chapter 8!

8: In Which the Plot Thickens, and Blood Thins

Chapter 8: In Which the Plot Thickens, and Blood Thins

"Solum certum nihil esse certi et homine nihil miserius aut superbius."
"This only is sure, that there is nothing sure; and nothing more miserable, and yet more arrogant then man."
-Michel Eyquem de Montaigne, Essays

“Mom really misses you.”

“Hm?” I replied, not really listening. Per Mist Chaser’s instructions, we were making our way en route to the edge of New Falmalla, seeking the pony named Quick Charge. Somehow, we were to try and convince him not to sell much-sought after alcohol to other barponies in the city. In return, we would receive money. Truly, this was the epitome of respected and distinguished archeology. Sunny had been left behind, on the principle of her being Sunny; given her predisposition to piss off everypony we came across, we all felt it best that she not join us for this venture. So it was just me, Parum, and apparently the weight of our familial issues resurgent.

“You heard me,” Parum said bitterly, “Mom is crushed, Close. She started crying as soon as they closed the door behind you, and by the time I left she still hadn’t stopped. Deduc Indagator stopped by to give her little ‘we will rise from the ashes’, ‘your son didn’t sacrifice himself for nothing’, ‘now begins a new age for Stable 81’ bullshit speech, but she didn’t even pay attention to her. Insusurro stopped by too.”

I turned, surprised. “Really? What’d he have to say?”

She snorted. “Same shit.” she said, “He was so sorry, he hoped that you’d come back and bring us good news of the surface, then we could all leave the vault together, blah blah blah I stopped paying attention. Fuckin’ loser.

“That’s not the point though. The point is, even if we don’t stay, even if whatever it is these twins are doing hasn’t been dealt with…could we at least stop by? Just to let her them know we’re alive?”

I couldn’t argue with that, now could I? I mean, I probably could, but…I didn’t want to. “We will. Let’s just…finish up here first. Do you even know where 81 is?”

“We can figure that out later. Right now, let’s find this fucker who’s holding out on Mist.”

* * *

Our search eventually led us to a park near the edge of the city, and I had to stop. We’d seen more than a few dilapidated parks on our excursion through New Falmalla, so this in and of itself was nothing new. The statue is what made it different, however: this was a memorial park, one that in my own mind was nearly identical to the one in which Sunny and I had met Oya. I could almost feel the hole in my right ear burning as we slowly approached the three ponies who could only be guards for something…or somepony. “We must be at the right spot.” I said, before calling out cheerfully, “Hi! We’re looking for a Mr. Quick Charge?”

The ponies responded with a yell. There was a crack, and I felt what could have only been a bullet whiz through the hole in my ear. I stood there, paralyzed, as more ponies swarmed in, and the three in front of us advanced. Parum, who was undoubtedly more experienced in this sort of thing than I was, shoved me to the side, breaking my mental paralysis. At the same time a green glow enveloped her spear, unsheathing it and driving it through the neck of our nearest attacker. Another shot rang out, and I ducked behind a park bench. Parum refused to take cover; as she slashed at a second pony with her spear, she bucked the third in the neck. He fell gasping to the ground, and as Parum stomped his neck to break it, her magic replaced the other pony’s brain with her blade. “Am I going to have to kill all these assholes myself, or am I gonna get some help?!”

I stammered. What? Kill ponies? I know I’d injured many, and Sunny and Oya had killed who knows how many…but aside from one raider, I’d never actually killed anypony. I told her this, and I ducked to the side just in time, the tip of her spear causing sparks as it ricocheted off the concrete bench. I recovered in just enough time to be punched square across the jaw by my little sister. “Stolide!” She shouted, hitting me again. I reeled-the little filly packed a wallop! “Where in the fuck do you think we are?! You’re not gonna survive out here if you refuse to kill somepony when they’re trying to kill you! I can’t even believe you lasted this-“

She was interrupted by the rapid-fire crack of an automatic rifle, and the bullet that lodged itself in her side through a hold in our cover. “Parum!” I screamed.

“It’s fine, it’s fucking fine! The armor took most of it…” She groaned, hugging her side. More ponies were coming from various hiding spots in the park, and before I knew it I was blindsided by a rough-looking unicorn with a Goddesses-damned sword! I reacted, whipping around in a roundhouse kick to her head. Her magic faltered, but she was otherwise unimpeded, and she stabbed at my neck with her sword. I ducked in time to avoid yet another unwanted hole in my body, though not in enough time to miss a slash across my shoulders. I pivoted, kicking hard with my back legs at her lower jaw. It was enough of a shock to drop her sword, which fell clattering to the ground. Next…I want to say what I did next was a reaction, a reflex. I want to say that my actions were a result of training, or that my survival instinct kicked in…but then I’d be lying. No, when I took advantage of my enemy’s disorientation, when I solidified my stance and kicked out again with all the strength I could muster…when I felt her neck snap before the force of my hooves…I did it out of my own volition. The unicorn fell, and she did not rise again.

There was no time to mourn, no time to reflect on my actions. That time would come later. Right now, there were more ponies trying to kill us, and we had to make that stop. I gave Parum a healing potion, and in no time she was on her hooves, charging once again into battle. There weren’t many of them left, and together we wrapped them up with relative ease. While Parum was more akin to a tiny, bladed wrecking ball powered by bloodlust and Sugar Bombs, I couldn’t afford to be as straightforward. So while the mercenaries (at least, I assumed they were mercs) were distracted with my little sister, I was able to sneak my way around the battlefield, singling out ponies and putting them down with precise strikes. It scared me; with every pony I killed, it became easier to do so. The heat of battle, seeing my own family wounded…it pushed me past the point of caring, I guess.

Soon enough what had once been a beautiful park turned into ruin was now a ruin of a beautiful park covered in blood and bodies. “Were any of them Quick Charge? I wasn’t paying attention.” Parum asked. I didn’t answer, and when she looked back at me, her expression was troubled, but understanding. “Close…I know it’s hard now, but we do what we must. That’s why I try my best to help as many good ponies as I can: maybe one day, we won’t have to kill each other to survive, y’know?” I nodded. I was sure that, with time, I might even come to believe it.

I almost didn’t hear the whine in time. The electric whine I’d heard once before, the whine which I knew would soon be followed by a deadly purr. “Get down!” I shouted, tackling Parum to the ground in the nick of time. The purr came, bullets ricocheting off, well, everything as we scrambled for cover behind the fountain in the middle of the park. The purr of machinegun fire paused, and the sound of muffled cackling reached our ears. I took the opportunity to poke my head out to look at our assailant, ducking it away before a new stream of bullets took it off.

He (or she) was wearing power armor, like those Steel Ranger ponies. Unlike them, however, it wasn’t a full set-it looked somehow shabbier, cobbled together, and cobbled together with it was a rusted old minigun. “Any ideas?” I asked, “I would recommend against charging him like you did the others.”

“No shit.” Parum responded simply, “How ‘bout this: I distract him, you run around and kill him while he’s distracted. Or you distract, and I kill. Thoughts?”

“And just what are my hooves or your blade supposed to do against that armor?”

What we could do, I don’t believe we ever really found an answer, not until much later, at least. What a high-powered rifle round could do, however, was a different story. Over the din of machinegun fire I heard a metallic splat; when I looked up, our adversary’s head had been taken clean off. Half a second later came the sound of thunder. I stood up for a second, and deciding that whoever had fired that shot was either gone or not interested in us, I motioned Parum to do the same. “So…what do we do now?” I asked. Parum opened her mouth to answer, but somepony else beat her to it:

“Stop! Just, stop!” He shouted, coming out from behind a decrepit excuse for a tree. Earth Pony, grey, and a quick check of his flank revealed a stick of dynamite cutie mark: we’d found our pony.

“Quick Charge?” I asked warily, afraid that uttering the name would garner the same response it had before. Quick Charge nodded, immediately afterward starting to babble nigh-incoherently:

“Look I know why you’re here and I’mma tell ya that I ain’t fuckin’ goin’ like the others ya hear me I’ll fight ya fuckin tooth and nail if I hafta or you can just tell her I’m dead or gone or whatever alright just don’t fuckin kill me-“

I held up a hoof, silencing him. “Wait, tell who? Kill you? What’re you talking about?” I looked at Parum, hoping for an explanation of some sort, but she only shrugged, probably as confused as I was.

We weren’t the only ones; Quick Charge took his own turn at being confused. “What? You mean you’re not here to kill me?” he asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I said.

“I was.” My sister added. A kick silenced her.

Quick Charge looked relieved. “Thought y’all were workin’ for that goddamned slut…” he explained. I will never be more proud of Parum than I was when she kept her mouth shut. “You sure as shit made short work of my hired guns-best mercs in Whinnyapolis, mah flank-how would you two like t’ make some money?” Parum and I looked at each other, then back to him. I nodded. “There’s this uppity little barbitch what runs a joint in the city center. Been killin’ off suppliers an’ takin’ it all fer herself, see? So if y’all…take care of her for those of us lef’, we’d sure as shit be grateful.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the lime-green filly launched herself at the supplier. She moved too quickly for me to stop her; honestly, she moved too quickly for what I’d expect out of a filly her age, though since when Parum had been a normal filly, I had no idea. “You take that back!” She squealed. Though the voice of a child, it was still laced with a furious malice. “Take it back!”
My cry of “Parum!” was interspersed with Quick Charge’s cry of “What the fuck?!”

“Take it back, take it back! Take! It! Back!” My sister screamed, each last word punctuated with a blow. Quick Charge tried to fight back, but she was to be undeterred, until I finally managed to pry her off of him.

“We’re not killing anypony.” I grunted, still struggling with a thrashing filly. “But what do you mean, killing you off? Mist Chaser may be a bit…abrasive at times, but-ow! Parum!” I exclaimed. Parum had bitten me for calling her marefriend abrasive, I guessed.

“So y’all are workin’ for that bitch! The deal stands. Kill her and get paid, or don’t and leave me the fuck alone. I’m outta here; need replace my fuckin’ bodyguards…”

* * *

“Who the fuck does he think he is? Kill Mist Chaser? Kill ‘that little barbitch’?!”

I just sighed. “Parum,” I said calmly, “You’ve been saying that since we left. And like I’ve told you…thirteen times now, we’re not going to kill her.” After a thought, I added, “Or him. We’re just going to get to the bottom of this and see if we can’t figure things out.”

“And what did he mean, ‘killing off suppliers’? Mist wouldn’t do that! I mean, we do what we have to, but that’s even too cold for her!” She continued…again. After stripping off what medical supplies we could from the dead (as well as their ammunition-we could hardly use any of it, but caps are caps) and patching ourselves up we began to make our way back to the bar. The conversation which just transpired had transpired about thirteen times in the intervening time. I could somewhat understand where she was coming from: she’d put someone she loved and cared about on a pedestal, and now…now that pedestal was crumbling, bringing her dear Mist Chaser crashing down to Earth. I’d felt the same way upon finding out my little sister was quickly becoming one of the deadlier ponies in the Wasteland.

Luckily enough we arrived before Parum could launch herself once again into a verbal fit of preadolescent rage. It was still early enough in the day for the bar to be sparsely populated, and by sparsely populated, I mean that there were only two ponies: Sunny and the enigmatic Mist Chaser. “Wow, you guys are back quick!” She hailed us cheerily, “Get everything taken care of?”

“Well…” I began, but you wouldn’t believe such a little body had such a set of lungs sometimes.

“Have you been killing off alcohol suppliers so you don’t have to pay them?” Her voice cracked as it rose, and her eyes were a mixture of both angry and pleading.

“Love, I don’t know what in the hell you’re-“ Mist Chaser looked flabbergasted, her initial smile faltering. She didn’t finish; Parum had that covered.

“Misty!” She interjected.

Apparently the name Misty held something for our filly friend. Her smile faded entirely, and her ears drooped. Her eyes darted from me to Sunny, before finally resting on Parum Sororem. Sunny, to her credit, wasn’t laughing, although from the look on her face it was clearly a struggle the likes of which she had never before encountered. Mist Chaser sighed and sat down, and as if on cue Sunny floated over bottles and glasses. Stalliongrad for my sister, Pferdmeister for Sunny, Wild Pegasus for Mist Chaser, and something called Geldgoyne Blue for me. When I asked what it was, Sunny just winked at me. I nearly wet myself in fear, but drank anyway…anything to relieve the tension. To my surprise, it actually tasted pretty good; smooth, and…earthy? It was hard to describe, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. Sunny didn’t even pour a glass- why waste time when a pony can drink straight from the bottle? The two young fillies left their drinks untouched; Parum just stared at Mist Chaser, looking angry and hurt. Mist Chaser stared back at her, looking confused and hurt. “What’re you talking about?” the pegasus filly finally asked.

“We met Quick Charge.” Parum answered curtly, “And it seems that the other suppliers have been dropping like flies. Because of you. What the fuck, Misty?”

Mist Chaser’s hurt and confusion almost immediately became hurt and rage. “Are you fucking serious?” she yelled. Another pony came into the bar, saw us, shook her head, and shuffled out uncomfortably. Mist Chaser continued, standing back up and advancing on Parum: “You’re telling me that you believe some lowdown, hustling, good-for-nothing slug, without even trying to figure out the truth?” She thrust a hoof at me, “Don’t you listen to the fucking radio? The fucking Twins are back! The other ponies haven’t been dropping like flies-they’ve been getting the fuck outta dodge!

“Everypony is leaving because your brother climbed out of that fucking hole in the ground and fucked everything up!”

Silence hung pregnant in the air. Mist Chaser’s words-her accusation-weighed heavily on all of us; I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Hey, uh, Sunny?” I asked, “Do you want to go…somewhere?” Anywhere? She just looked at me, the smile on her face telling me she in fact had no plans to leave.

“That ‘fucking hole in the ground’ is my home!” Parum screamed back. Tears began to flow freely from her eyes.

“Sunny I swear I will use what money I have to buy you a drink somewhere else.” I told her in the lowest voice I could. Sunny looked at me, then the young couple, then back at me before getting up with a shrug.
“I’m taking this.” She stated simply to Mist Chaser as she floated the bottle of Pferdmeister along with her out the door.

* * *

“I thought you said you were buyin’ the drinks!” Sunny accused loudly as we stepped out of another bar across town.

“That was before you took Mist Chaser’s bottle.” I responded calmly.

“Says the welsher.” I just rolled my eyes.

“Well looky what we have here, ladies! A pair of unsuspecting ponces!”

It took me a moment to realize that those words hadn’t come from Sunny. They had, in fact, come from a group of three elderly gray mares. I didn’t even have time to get out an “Excuse me?” before they started throwing rocks at us! Hard! I tried to back up, back into the bar, but ended up crashing into Sunny instead, who wasn’t taking the rock-throwing much better than I was. The mares advanced, their seemingly-limitless supply of ammunition began to hit harder. They were backing us into a corner; a confused, painful, writhing corner. I struck out; an act of abject self-defense, anything to get the assault to stop. My hoof connected with something solid, something that gave in with a brittle snap. There was a startled cry of “Maude!” from one of the other mares. The rocks stopped, and when I opened my eyes, they fell upon the prostrate form of Maude. Her neck was broken.

“You’re gonna pay fer that, ponce!” The other remaining granny yelled. She never got as far as to actually exact any revenge. The air (and my ears) stung with the cracking reports of two .45 millimeter bullets, and the rest of Maude’s gang fell to the ground alongside her in a pool of their own blood.

I didn’t bother to wonder what had happened to my psyche when, after taking part in the murder of three old mares, my first thoughts (and words) were, “Luna’s sweet ass, Sunny, that was right in my fucking ear!”
Sunny sniffed. “Get used to it.” She said. From what I could hear, which wasn’t much, it was clear she was smiling. “Come on, let’s get out of here. They may not care if ponies kill each other in self-defense, but we don’t need that kinda heat.”

“Wait!” I said, stopping her, “What’s that?”

Peeking out of one of the granny’s dresses like a frightened worm in the early morning was a scrap of paper. It must have shaken loose of its pocket when the mare fell, and I’ll be damned if I could tell you why I was so interested in it. I trotted over and gently tugged it out with my teeth. “I wonder what it says…” I mused aloud, going cross-eyed trying to look at the folded piece of history in my mouth. Where did ponies even find paper to write on anymore? Sunny was having none of my curiosity, however; she fired another shot next to my ear to get my attention.

“Hey, Egghead, let’s go! You can read your little love-note somewhere else!”

* * *

“In this note, a riddle lies.
To read it carefully, I would advise.
If glory and riches are all you seek,
Then your outlook must be truly bleak.
Search for me in days of old,
And you may find an inspired soul.
Though I’m far from crashing waves,
They may still be heard within my caves.
In your endeavor, I wish you luck,
And hope that you quell curiosity run amok.”

I finished reading the poem aloud, verbally transposing it to my PipBuck. “I wonder what it means…” I added as an afterthought.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Sunny replied. It had been barely an hour, but news of our actions had already spread. Granted, nopony knew it was us, but they knew that the “Maudes”, as they were called, were dead. They’d been part nuisance, part New Falmalla mascots, from what I could gather, and their deaths were met with an equally strange combination of sadness and joy. Despite Sunny’s dismissal, I still wanted to know what it meant-after the events at the park earlier, I needed any distraction I could get.

“Excuse us.” Came a voice from behind us. I turned around, and my heart stopped.
Two earth ponies in matching business suits, sunglasses, and bowler hats stood side by side behind us. They weren’t our twins, but stars above, they certainly looked like them at first glance. “You two…should definitely…consider a different wardrobe…” I said, trying to
get my breathing back to a normal pace, “Now how can we help you?”

The ponies looked at each other, then back at us. “We believe you possess something of ours.” The one on the left said.

“We know you two are the ones who killed the Maudes.” Continued the right.

“So what if we did? They attacked first! We were defending ourselves!” Sunny cut in, stepping forward. To her credit, she kept Chandrahasa, the engraved pistol we’d found in the cratered, radioactive remains of the Ministry of Arcane sciences, holstered. Also to her credit, I was ready to shut my eyes if it even looked like she was going to unleash her blinding sun spell.

“We don’t care why you killed them.” The left pony said, raising his voice in irritation, “We only have one question: did you find anything on them? A piece of paper, perhaps?”

My blood froze. “No, why?” I lied. The thought of what I’d become once again bloomed in my mind-since when had lying become as easy for me as speaking? It wasn’t as disturbing a revelation as how easy it’d become to kill another pony, but still.

The business ponies surveyed us both. Whatever they found on our faces must have satisfied them; they nodded in unison, then turned and left. Once they were gone, I turned to Sunny, unable to hide the grin on my face. “Now if this wasn’t something worth investigating, how do you explain that?” I asked. Sunny just grunted, which was about as much as I had come to expect from her when it came to admitting she was wrong. “Though I’m far from crashing waves, they may still be heard within my caves…what could they mean?” I mused.

“Could be the old pumping stations.” My companion remarked offhandedly.

“The what?”

She looked at me as if I’d asked what I did next after going to the bathroom. It wasn’t the first time. “How do you think they had indoor plumbing before the war? How do you think some ponies have it now? They pumped in water from the sea. It’s probably talking about a pumping station.”

“Sunny, you’re a genius!” I cried, surprising both her and myself by throwing my hooves around her in a tight hug. “If we can find a station, it’s as good as ours!”

“Let…go…of me…” Sunny grunted through gritted teeth, her entire body rigid. I wasn’t paying attention, however; I let go, but held her at hoof’s length, looking her in the eye and grinning like a fool.

“We’ve got to find it! Ohhh Sunny, I could kiss you!” I said, and in my excitement, actually began to move my face toward hers.
It took me nearly four hours to regain my sight, not much longer than it took for me to regain consciousness.

* * *

“Another dead end…” I muttered. Turns out a city the size of Whinnyapolis had more than a few of these pumping stations, more than I’d expected and more than Sunny had ever bothered to pay attention to. From what I could gather (nopony wanted to talk to Sunny-surprise, surprise), New Falmalla encompassed six of these stations; we had searched two, and this one made three. There wasn’t much to them. They each had three rooms: a lobby/office area, a janitor’s closet, and one large room with the actual pumping machinery. We’d searched the entirety of the stations, which really didn’t take long at all, but had turned up nothing.

“On to the next one?” I asked Sunny as we walked back out to the street. It was evening, and the hoof traffic had died down. Instead of being actively jostled about, now we were nearly alone. Nearly, alone, that is, with the exception of two ponies in matching business suits, fedoras, and sunglasses.

“It seems we meet again.” The right one said simply.

“Looking for something?” Questioned the other.

“Will you back the fuck off?!” Sunny shouted before I could say anything. This time, Chandrahasa did come out, and soon found itself with its barrel planted firmly underneath the left pony’s chin. The ponies, unperturbed, looked at each other and nodded, before turning around and departing. “What is their deal…” Sunny muttered. I just shrugged, looking once again to my PipBuck map to see where the next pump station was.

“If we take a left here, it should only be a few blocks to the next one!” I proclaimed, looking back up at Sunny. I’d learned by now that my compass and objective tracking wasn’t to be trusted in Whinnyapolis; instead I just looked at the map and tried to plot a course by landmarks and what street names still remained. It reminded me that there was yet another obstacle to consider when we finally set out for the Mall of Equestria: how were we going to navigate wasteland? I mean, there was always the Tower to the East and the sea to the North, but other than that…I shook the thought away; we would cross that bridge when we came to it. Instead I focused on where I was going, and on how Sunny was giving me an odd look.

“Why’re you so hopped up on this?” She asked.

“Hopped up on what?”

“That fuckin’ note, that’s what. There’s no reason to follow it, we’ve got more important shit to do, and I’m tired of those ponies following us.” She explained. That stopped me for a moment; I honestly hadn’t thought of that. There certainly were more important things to be done-hadn’t I just been trying to figure out how to navigate a massive, dead expanse of land without getting lost and/or starving to death? Shouldn’t I be looking for more work, or even figuring out how to complete the job I already had? She was right about the ponies, too; I knew nothing about them, and it wasn’t like I needed any more dangerous ponies out for my blood.

“Maybe…” I started, not really knowing what to say, but saying something anyway, “Maybe it’s what I was sent out here to do in the first place. At least, to me. I was supposed to find out what happened out here, to see how much Equestria has changed in the past two hundred years. But instead of that, I’ve been kidnapped, hunted, shot, beaten, shot some more…” I paused, trying to put a hoof on it. “This isn’t what I was expecting…” I finished. I’d forgotten to mention the nagging feeling (and straight up insistence by Parum) that my own stable had betrayed me for a yet unknown reason. Looking to see what this note I’d found on a dead mare lead to helped to take my mind off things for a bit.

“Jeez, way to be melodramatic, No Balls.” Sunny scoffed; but in her eyes betrayed…understanding?

* * *

“A rock? We went through all of this shit for a fuckin’ rock?”

Sunny was not happy, and I had to admit, I was more than a little disappointed as well. We’d come to the pumping station without issue. This one was larger than the others, perhaps a main, while the rest had been auxiliaries? It was still the same three-room setup, only larger. Once again, the lobby’s desks contained only a smattering of caps among old, rotting paper and clipboards. In a room easily the size of Stable 81’s atrium, massive pumps sat rusted and decrepit and unused. At the far end of the room lie a hole large enough for a pony to fit through, the eroded remains of iron grating skirting its edges. As we walked closer to the hole, more and more we could hear the sound of rushing water emanating from it; distant, as if we were only hearing the echoes of other pipes heading to other stations. “ Though I’m far from crashing waves, They may still be heard within my caves…” I’d muttered, before grinning and hopping hooves-first into the hole. After a few minutes of rooting around while Sunny called me an idiot, she had to hush so she could grasp the small box I had found and was pushing up through the top of the pipe. She grasped it with her magic, and giggled as I struggled to pull myself back out on my own. After a brief deliberation, we decided it wasn’t trapped, and Sunny picked the lock on it. Inside was lump covered in cloth, and a rock; hence, our dismay.

“Well, let’s see what’s behind door number too before we start yelling, shall we?” I remarked irritably, bending over to bite the dirty cloth and pull it away.

A white unicorn looked back at me, locking me in her strong and alluring gaze. Her sensual violet mane and tail stood out sharply against her coat. My eyes drifted to her flank, and as I looked upon the three diamonds there I couldn’t help but think, Sorry, Applejack, but this one takes the cake…

“Ow!” I cried. It felt like I’d been bucked in the head not once, but twice. Phantom giggling ran around my brain as I once again reached down to put her in my saddlebags. Just as the other two, this statuette had writing on the base:

“Be Unwavering!”

My heart lightened. Sure, postwar Equestria was nothing that I could have even begun to realistically expect, but if I was still doing things like this-searching, finding, wondering-after being kidnapped, shot, and beaten, then nothing could stop me! A mad cackle arose in my throat, but I suppressed it. That was for later; right now, the door to the station had opened and closed again. We had guests.

“Would you look who it is…” The ponies in matching business suits had found us! One of them held a revolver in his mouth as the other one spoke for them. “You shouldn’t have lied to us. Now, instead of just retrieving what’s ours with no fuss, we’ll have to kill you. I do hope your blood doesn’t stain the contents of the chest.”

Sunny almost facehoofed. “It’s a fuckin’ rock.” She said simply. I mentally thanked her for not mentioning the statuette.

“Yes, and it is rightfully ours. Now, do you have any last words before we extract what we’ve been searching our entire lives for?” The other pony pulled back the hammer on his revolver.

This time it was my turn to nearly facehoof. “Do you just want the fuckin’ rock?” I asked simply. “Take it, it’s yours. We don’t want it.”
They were clearly unnerved. The armed one nearly dropped his pistol in his surprise. They looked at each other, then back at us. All the gravity and sternness which had shadowed our previous encounters fell away to a nearly foal-like wonder and excitement. “You mean…” The unarmed pony began softly, his voice hitched with the specter of apprehension, as if this were a trick-too good to be true, “You mean you honestly don’t want it? It’s ours?”

“Yes, you can have the pretty rock.” Replied Sunny, “It’s right over there, in your pretty chest. Can we go now?” The ponies nodded silently. They couldn’t even hold their composure until we were outside; we’d barely taken three steps before they rushed to the chest, positively giggling with unrestrained glee. Sunny just sighed, and I caught snippets of “Is it really him?”, “Only a piece, but still!”, and the name “Tom” as we walked outside and shut the door on both the pumping station, and on this odd little chapter in our lives.

* * *

“Wait, so it was you two who killed the Maudes?” Mist Chaser asked.

I groaned. Seemed even in a place as large as this, word traveled fast. Probably that damn DJ Pon-3’s doing. “Look, they attacked us. I didn’t mean to kill anypony!” I explained. I wasn’t going to explain for Sunny, who’d gone out to “Talk to a pony about a thing”; I was more than sure by this point that she meant to kill pretty much anypony she shot at. Or saw. Or looked at her weird.

“Close, they attacked everypony!” Parum scolded, “All you had to do was run or yell at them kinda loud!”

“Like I fuckin’ knew that!” I shot back. To think that the entire situation could’ve been avoided by nonviolent means…but they were throwing rocks! Hard ones!

“Since when do you curse?” My sister asked.

I blinked. Again, another question about something I hadn’t realized had been happening. “I guess I’ve just been around you and Sunny too long. It is a nasty habit.” I mused. My sister just rolled her eyes, trotting off to the little fillies’ room.
Which left Mist Chaser and I alone. Awkward much?

“Look, Close…about what I said earlier…” She started, but I interrupted her with a hoof.

“Don’t sweat it.” I said, “Me coming out here has definitely shaken things up a bit, especially considering those twins.” I meant it, too; whether my coming had brought the twins out of whatever they were doing or the twins had somehow orchestrated my exodus from my home remained to be seen, but what was done was done. Mist Chaser just coughed and looked somewhere else. I took this to mean we were on even terms now, which led me to my next point: “I think I can solve your alcohol-supply problem…”

* * *

“Mr. Quick Charge?” I asked, stifling a yawn. After this, I swore I was going to sleep for days-it sure felt like I’d been awake for a few of them. I’d elected to meet with him alone, so as to not cause any trouble. Between what Parum thought of him and what Sunny tended to do to everypony…it was better this way.

This time I was only met by the pony in question and a single bodyguard; just a regular mercenary unicorn with an assault rifle. I was by myself, unarmed as always. “She dead yet?” Quick Charge asked, a grin slowly spreading across his features as he looked upon my deadpan expression.

“No.” I answered simply.

“What? Then why’re ya here? Shit, shit, shit! She coulda followed ya!” It was comical how abruptly his face changed from smug to terrified, his manner from that of a lion to one of a mouse. If anything, if hammered home Mist Chaser’s side of things as the correct one.

Now, it was my turn to smile. “She’s not dead, because I’m not going to kill her.” I said. What came next I wasn’t sure if I could pull off, but before I faltered, I felt my conviction solidify, as if braced by a beautiful white unicorn and her friends. So when I did speak, it wasn’t the voice of just a scared stable pony, it was the voice of authority: “What’s going to happen is, you are going to sell to her at half price while charging anypony else full price. If there aren’t many of you suppliers left, than there shouldn’t be too much whining from the other bars. Deal?”

Quick Charge, his illusion of fear cast away, looked cock-eyed at me. “An’ what makes a little stable-pony like you think that I’m not gonna just shoot ya here an’ deal with my problem myself?”

“Because the Hellion-you may have heard of her-is my sister. And the Hellion is already angry enough that you tried to have her marefriend killed.”

Quick Charge visibly paled. He nodded his consent, and that was the end of my business in New Falmalla for quite some time, although I didn’t know it just yet.

* * *

I arrived back at the bar with a spring in my step. I thought there may have been a fight or something when I told him he’d be halving his profits just to stay alive, but Parum’s reputation had more pull than I’d previously thought. I guessed that wasn’t the only thing about it though; Quick Charge wasn’t just spouting nonsense about being a stable pony. In the stable, we were well-fed, well-groomed, well taken care of. If anypony else came from that to a world such as this and started demanding even less than what I had from Quick Charge, I wouldn’t have been entirely surprised to see them strung up by their hooves and left to die in the wastes. But that white unicorn…I was unwavering, and it showed, and for some reason everything worked out. I had the confidence that it would, and it did! Awesome!

“Hey, I got Quick Charge off your back! I think you’ll like our little-Butcher?” I began, then switched sentence objectives at the sight of, well, Butcher. A blue pegasus, the same shade as Mist Chaser, with a brownscale rainbow lightning bolt for a cutie mark stood on the other side of the bar. Aside from her saddlebags, she wore a brown leather jacket lined with white fur-a flyer’s jacket. On its back I could just make out a faded black “E” surrounded by stars and flanked on each side by wings. Her fuchsia mane, identical in color to Mist Chaser’s, hung loose and windswept. She truly was Mist Chaser’s mother. Sunny was sitting next to her, looking like she was trying not to laugh. Parum Sororem was nowhere to be found. She turned to look at me, and smiled.

“Well look who it is…” She mused, “Good t’see ya again. Didn’t think you’d last three days after the last I saw you, especially not with this one.” She nodded back to Sunny, smiling as she stepped toward me. “Then this little filly with fire in her eyes shows up asking about her brother. Ya know, if I had to look at you two side by side, I’d almost say you were adopted. Where is she, anyway? She ever find you?”

“I dunno.” I said, then put my thoughts back together and tried again, “I mean, I haven’t seen her since earlier; doesn’t Mist Chaser know where she is?”

Butcher rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t seem as though my wonderful daughter, who I flew all the way out here just to see, wants to talk to me much. Such a shame.”

“That’s not the reason you’re here, you dried up wench! Don’t even try to guilt me into talking to you!” Mist Chaser shouted viciously.

“Like you just did?”

She blinked. “Fuck!” she screamed, “Sunny, watch the fucking bar!” This last order she threw at Sunny before exiting through an open window with a snap of her wings.

“What in Luna’s grace was that?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“No idea.” Butcher shrugged, “But she was right; I do have another reason for coming out here.

“The Gelders picked up info that you were here, and I volunteered to make a trip to give it to you. Apparently one of their scouts picked up a radio signal, and recorded some of it onto a holotape.”

With that, she reached into her saddlebags, producing said holotape and placing it on the bar. “Well, aren’t ya gonna listen to it?”
I nodded, my accomplished mood quickly slipping deeper and deeper into the depths of abject confusion. Why would some random radio signal garner enough attention for a recording? Or better yet, why was it so imperative that I was the one who received a copy of the broadcast? I wouldn’t know until I listened to it in any case, so, nearly shaking with anticipation, I plugged it into my PipBuck and hit play:

Level up!
Perk Added: Stonewall-You’ve taken Rarity’s advice to heart! You can no longer be knocked down in combat, and you get +5 DT against melee and unarmed attacks!

Author's Note

Hi everypony! I hope you've enjoyed this latest chapter of Close Call as much as I enjoyed writing it! Again, I'd like to thank Kkat for inspiration, and all of you for giving me a reason to keep writing! And please, as I've said before, I am entirely alone in this venture, so any advice, compliments, complaints, whatever, are not only welcome, but encouraged! That's right, encouraged! That's all I have for now, happy reading!

9: Home

Chapter 9: Home

“Saucius at quadripes nota intra tecta refugit, successitque gemens stabulis…”
"Swift to its cover fled the wounded thing, and crept loud-moaning to its wonted stall..."
-Virgil, The Aeneid

What is home?

Is it where you live? Is nothing more than a structure? Four walls to hold back the wind, a roof to hold back the rain, a place to rest your head when the day’s work is done and the coming dawn is but a dream away? Or is it, as the saying goes, “where the heart is”; inside you, in your hopes and in your dreams? Is it anywhere your friends are? Where your family is? Where you can really and truly say you feel “at home”?

All this had been swimming around in the depths of my mind, lurking unseen but not unfelt, since Parum Sororem, my dear sister, had appeared suddenly in a ramshackle tent thrown hastily together in a ramshackle warehouse. I’d beaten it back, held its head under the waters of conscious thought while it thrashed and struggled against my efforts.

The answer, for now at least, had been answered by a simply holotape recording of a now-distant radio signal: home was a network of steel tunnels and rooms far underground. And I was going back there.

* * *

“Attention, attention, attention: This is Deduc Indagator of Stable 81, trying to reach the fugitives Close Call and Parum Sororem, both of my stable. We have your parents here; either come home and pay for your crimes, or they shall. Message repeats…”
The message repeated. For how long, or how many times, I couldn’t exactly say. I sat on the ancient, half-rotted wooden floor of the bar, mouth open, my mind reeling. The door opened behind me, though I hardly noticed it.

“Is it safe yet-“ Parum began, having come in with Mist Chaser, but was silenced almost immediately. Whether by Butcher’s presence, the holotape still relaying its message, or both, I don’t know, but it was to me to whom she spoke first. “Cost…what…is that…what’s going on?” she whimpered, eyes on my PipBuck.

It was that name that kickstarted my brain, allowed me to think a little more clearly again. “Cost”…like a misspelling of “coast”…or the bastardization of “Close”, the kind of bastardization a filly only just learning to speak would make. Parum hadn’t called me that in years, not since she herself was that young filly, only just learning to speak. “We have to go back.” I said simply.

“You need ta shut that fuckin’ thing off.” Sunny called from the bar. “What?” she demanded, flinching under the reproachful stares of both Butcher and Mist Chaser. I did as she asked nonetheless; it wasn’t like I was going to change anything by playing it over and over again.

“Parum…” I started, reaching out a hoof. Mist Chaser beat me to it, any fear of what her mother would do to her evaporated by the time she reached my sister. She hugged her with both hooves and wings, enveloping her in a soft blue shell of comfort.
Even in the state I was in, I couldn’t help but steal a sidewards glance at Butcher. “So…” I started, not entirely sure what to say next. Hell, I wasn’t even sure about what I was going to do next.

The pegasus just laughed, her wings fluttering slightly against her jacket. “You’re not a parent, so you don’t understand.” She said, “Even though I don’t see her too much anymore, there isn’t-and never will be-a thing Mist Chaser can hide from me. She’s got a decent head on her shoulders, and it looks like your sister may have one as well. Naïve, but what stable pony isn’t?” Although she was right, I couldn’t help but feel a bit offended. We weren’t that naïve, were we?

Butcher looked on at the two fillies-holding each other, both of them silent-for a moment longer before flapping her wings with a snap. I jumped, and they both looked up. “I hate to break this up, I really do, but your brother’s right: y’all need to get goin’, and get goin’ yesterday. So let’s go!”

I blinked. “Wait, us? Like, all of us? Why?”

The pegasus shook her head. “Mist Chaser’ll stay here.” Said filly opened her mouth to protest, but never got that far. “I love you honey, but there isn’t much you can do to help. And these two’ll need all the help they can get.”

Look, I knew that we were stable ponies, and that I myself still struggled daily with the mere thought of killing another pony, but come on! More ponies knew my sister as the Hellion, Defender of the Innocent and Reaper of the Wicked than knew her as Parum Sororem. And I…well, Parum should be enough for both of us! We could take care of ourselves! I told Butcher such, and received a laugh for my efforts.

“Who do you think took out that merc in the power armor?” She asked. My mid flashed back to our first meeting with Quick Charge: a quick battle, followed by a mysterious helper with a high powered rifle taking out the aforementioned mercenary in power armor. “I’m coming with you, at least to Sukawaka.”

“Fuckit, I guess I’ll go too. Why the fuck not?” Sunny slurred, magically slamming her bottle of Stalliongrad’s Finest on the bar for effect.

“There’s no alcohol in the stable, Sunny.”

“Fuck you an’ fuck your stable, I’m goin’.”

“Looks like it’s settled then.” Butcher stated happily, “It’s getting late. I suggest y’all rest up. We leave at dawn.”

* * *

”Oh my, it really is, well, dark in here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, totally not awesome.”

“Will y’all just shut up an’ help me?”

I open my eyes; the voices here are…different. I look to my left and right to find that the others who were chained with me are gone. In front of me I can only just make out three mares in the wan light: a white unicorn, a cyan pegasus whose prismatic hair seems to shine despite the dimness, and an orange earth pony with a cowpony hat. They’re talking amongst themselves, leaving me to myself and my thoughts. I look down, and am disappointed to see that my legs are still bound. When I look back up, all three mares are looking right at me.

“Be strong.” Says the orange one.

“Be awesome!” cheers the blue one, leaping into the air with her excitement.

“Be unwavering.” The white one states primly, nodding, but still smiling warmly. I look back down, and not knowing what’s going to happen, start to struggle against my bindings.

A link in the chain cracks.

* * *

“Ready to go?”

I looked at my PipBuck as I shifted my now-heavy saddlebags. Food, check. Healing potions and bandages, also check. Sunny had ammo, and Parum was loaded to the brim with combat drugs-Buck for strength beyond strength, Hydra for healing beyond healing, Steady for sight beyond sight, and Stampede for insanity beyond insanity, from what I could tell, and those were just the ones she told me about. Apparently they were a regular part of her repertoire before she’d found me; she said she’d stopped since then, but…I shook the thought out of my head, nodding at Butcher. “We’re ready.” I said. Earlier in the morning I’d visited Oya in her shack, and tried to convince her to come with us. Much to my dismay, she declined, giving me only the epithet "Chakukupa sina ila nakuombea salama." So, essentially, no.

“How’re we gonna get there?” I asked Butcher. She seemed to know best how to get, well, anywhere in what used to be the Whinnyapolis-Metro area, and would be leading us back to the Stable. She still wore her leather flight jacket as well as a pair of aviator sunglasses. I suddenly noticed that I was missing my own pair, which had been part of my very first purchase, way back in Sukawaka. I guessed I’d been so absorbed in everything that’d been happening since then, I never realized that I had lost them. Now that I thought of it, I’d lost my actual glasses as well. Shit. Once again paying attention, my eyes were drawn back to Butcher; namely, her gun. It rested diagonally across her back, passing between her wings. It was massive, longer than she was. It looked like one of the huge sniper rifles I’d seen on the gate guards at Sukawaka, but…different. The rifle was light blue, its scope, magazine, and stock an off-white color. It (or rather, Tate, as she affectionately called it) fired rounds a little larger than my hoof, and could apparently take a pony’s head right off.

Butcher adjusted the strap on her rifle before she answered me. “We walk.” She said, “Well, you walk, and I try to fly as much as I can.”

“Lazy cunt.” Sunny muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Parum cut sharply.

“As I was saying,” Butcher continued impatiently, raising her voice over the both of them, “If we hurry, we should be able to make it there in a couple of days. Let’s go.”

* * *

The journey home was, aside from one event, largely uneventful, so I will not be transposing it here. I doubt anypony (one, anyone) reading this will really want a detailed description of the four of us wandering through the wasteland, seeing nothing and meeting no one who wasn’t the occasional raider. I will tell you of that night, though, when we four travelers huddled around a makeshift fire in the remains of an old log house. It was one level; really one room, and it looked to be older even than the rest of Whinnyapolis, and I thought it must have been built long before the war, when the backbone of the area was logging. There was even the remains of what could have been a plaque outside. How it survived the bombs, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to find out. But for the first time, I couldn’t care less about the history of the building we were currently squatting in. I had something on my mind.

“Parum?” I asked, causing her to look up from a magazine she’d been reading. Butcher had retired with an old medical journal, and Sunny busied herself with cleaning her firearms; nopony had spoken in a while, and they both looked up at this. Parum looked up, waiting for me to continue. “Why exactly did you come out here?” I asked.

She looked confused…or was it troubled? “I told you, I didn’t believe what Deduc was saying about you. And like I said, Mom and Dad were-“

“Dicit plane!” I interrupted sharply. Parum recoiled, a frown growing in sync with her confusion. I’m sure Sunny had something to say-when I or anyone spoke in anything other than Pony, there was typically a snort and/or a roll of her eyes. If this was the case, or if Butcher had the same habit, I did not know; the entirety of my attention was focused on the little green filly in front of me.

“C’ose…” She tried, reverting back to her old lexicon.

“Parum Sororem!”

There was a pause. My sister shifted uncomfortably, going to great lengths to avoid meeting my eyes. Mine didn’t move, however, and eventually she capitulated. Parum looked down, speaking to the floor. “…sent me.” She muttered.

“What?” I demanded-in hindsight, more harshly than I should have, more harshly than I had probably intended, but there was something there, I knew it. And I would be banished to the moon before I let it just pass through my hooves like water through a sieve.

“She sent me!” My sister shouted explosively. Before I could even ask who, she was already continuing. “Deduc Indagator! She came right after you left, said something had gone wrong, and that somepony needed to bring you back. I volunteered, and left the next day!” Her eyes finally met mine, wet with tears. She was going now, words flowing as freely as the water from her eyes, “I got outside, and…the bones, C’ose, the bones…it wasn’t supposed to be like this!” I could relate.

“I found a village just a bit outside the stable…ponies whose ancestors had tried to get in when the megaspells hit. They were being hit by raiders almost every day, and had been for years. They begged me to help them…how could I say no? How could anypony? I killed the raiders, and one of the villagers called me a little hellion, and that’s what I became. I didn’t think I was going to find you as fast as I did, and I didn’t…I didn’t…” Her breath hitched in a sob, “I didn’t think she’d actually threaten to kill our parents!”
What could I say to that? All I could say at the time, rounding on my sobbing sister, shouting in her face, was, “You lied to me? That explains it, doesn’t that just fucking explain everything! When I see you, it’s nothing but how we need to help the wasteland, then out of the blue you want to go home! If you had just listened to me in the first place we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

My words rang off the walls of the cabin and hung in the air. Sunny and Butcher looked away uncomfortably, and I went outside to start first watch. There was nothing more to say, and nothing more was said.

* * *

It is said that home is where the heart is. For a long time I thought it was just where one grew up, where most of a pony’s memories lie, a place that no matter where they were or what they were doing, somepony could point to this one place and say “That’s it. That’s my home.” Ever since I’d heard that phrase, I’d always been content in being able to point to Stable 81, to mine and my family’s shared space in that stable, and say “That’s mine. That’s my home.”

Now, staring at the massive steel gear which served as the Stable’s door, I found I could no longer answer with the same certainty that this was my home. I had been out here for only a few weeks, but it had been long enough for my own home to take on a distant, almost imaginary flavor in my mind. Sukawaka, Harbor, New Falmalla…these places had become real to me, whereas before I would have dismissed them as myth while clinging to the reality of, well, home. Now that I was back here in front of this door, so much sooner than I had planned, while my own family was under threat…I didn’t know if I wanted to open it.
Sunny solved that dilemma for me. “No Balls, I just humped my sweet ass across what feels like half the fuckin’ wasteland. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m pissy, and I hear stables have the closest thing to a decent bed a pony can find. If you or your Pissant sister don’t open that fucking door, I’ll kill you both and do it myself.” Very well then. Before I left, I had been given codes to the stable door for when I returned…if I returned. I linked my PipBuck to the battered console in front of the door and entered them. I dimly heard mechanics inside. There was a hollow-sounding clank as the arm inside attached itself to the door, followed soon after by an ear-splitting shriek as the monstrous gear was pulled away from its moorings and rolled aside. I stared into the Abyss, and the Abyss stared back at me. At least, the lone security pony stationed in the entrance looked up from his book in surprise and stared at me.

“You’re…you’re the traitor! Stop, stop right where you are!” he shouted. He pressed a button on his desk and shouted once again, this time into a speaker. “I need backup over here! The traitor has returned! I say again, the traitor has returned!”

“The fuck, Dream Charmer?” I exclaimed. I was dumbfounded, to say the least. We’d grown up together, from daycare to foal school, right up to when we went to our separate job trainings: me to linguistics, and her to security. I wouldn’t say we’d been all that close; as I’ve said before, I never really had more than one or two actual friends until I came outside, but we definitely knew each other. More so than as “Dream Charmer” and “Traitor”, at least.

“Luna’s amazing ass, you never did quit being a little cunt, did you?” Parum responded in kind. Even before she’d received her cutie mark, Parum had been a good enough fighter that she was often called to teach hoof to hoof combat to the security ponies. She soon earned herself a reputation of being…abrasive to trainees. Dream Charmer didn’t answer, nor did she have to-her backup had arrived.

A jet black unicorn mare with a blood red mane and tail appeared, flanked by two more security ponies. “That’s quite enough, you three.” Deduc Indagator commanded. All of the sly and playful cadences of her voice were gone; here we had an authoritative voice, the voice of the leader of Stable 81.

“Damn, No Balls, no wonder you wanted to fuck her.” Sunny said, with perfect timing, as always.

Deduc looked to her, and then back to me. “Quis est hic? Who is this?” she asked-no, demanded-her eyes flicking to the brown unicorn. I almost commiserated, looking down at my hooves while muttering an apology in Roaman and reminding myself to keep Sunny within kicking distance from here on out. Almost. Instead, before I could form the words in my own mind, it was assaulted by the three phrases in three voices which had become my mantra: Be Strong, Be Awesome, Be Unwavering!

“Amicus est, et ita ei non loqui. She is my friend, and you will not speak to her in such a way.” I responded.

“We’re not-“ Sunny began.

“Shut up Sunny.” I cut in, not taking my eyes off of Deduc. I swore I heard her mouth snap shut.

“Enough!” Deduc Indagator bellowed. “Mr. Call, estis sedem maiestatis reus habitant. Emendatum captivitatis, et eris stabilis, ut vos postulo ut adire aedificaveris temptandi causa, quae incipit cras. Cave, Close Call; Ero tibi in oculum. Mr. Call, you have been accused of treason against your home and its inhabitants. In lieu of imprisonment, you will be free to travel the stable as you need to in order to build your case for trial, which will commence tomorrow. Be wary, Close Call; I will be keeping an eye on you.” With that, she left, and her guard remained to escort us to my family’s living quarters. They were silent the entire way, even despite Sunny’s badgering. I couldn’t even bring myself to try and get her to shut up. Treason? Trial? What was going on in this stable? Never in my life had I experienced anything like this. It was almost as if we were under some sort of martial law! Before, we were just a group of researchers, all working together to find out whatever we could on the Zebra Empire, all working together to help our nation, our homeland. The only reason a position like Deduc Indagator-Lead Researcher-existed was to give us a general direction for our research. And as far as I knew, the direction for the past hundred years had been “whatever you want. Go for it.” With these thoughts swimming around my head, I wasn’t prepared for when we actually got to our quarters.

“Close!”

I snapped back to reality in time to be glomped by my mother, who swept both me and Parum into a bear hug, chattering rapidly in Roaman, something along the lines of: “I thought you two were dead! How dare you do this to me and your father? First you, running off without even talking with us first! Then you, going after him! Look at how thin you two are and how long your mane’s gotten and Close Call what happened to your ear!?”

“Mom, Mom! It’s ok, we’re ok, just calm down…” I soothed, separating myself from her with difficulty.
She looked like hell. Her normally pristine white mane and tail showed streaks of grey, with the odd strand poking out here and there. She herself looked like she hadn’t been eating. Wrinkles which had been slight when I left had lengthened and deepened to veritable gullies. “Close Call, you try that again, only properly this time…” she scolded, letting go of my sister, but smiling nonetheless. I didn’t smile back. One sentence, that one sentence, and my happiness at being home, at seeing my mother again, faded almost to nothing. In that moment I was a foal again, trying desperately to impress my parents and failing every time.

“Where’s dad?” I asked sharply, making both my mother and my sister wince.

“They…they said we had to be separated until the trial…I was allowed to stay here, but your father is in the detention center.” Mom replied, obviously holding back tears. Regardless of her perceived feelings toward me before, she loved her husband dearly. This entire ordeal must have been hell on her. I started to commiserate, but was interrupted, per usual, by my brown unicorn companion.

“Holy shit, is this an actual fucking shower?” Shouted Sunny from our unit’s shared restroom. Before we could answer, we were met with the sound of running water, closely followed by a cheer of “Hot fucking water too?! Fuck yeah, let’s stay here forever!”

* * *

A much-needed shower and mane trim later I found myself wandering my former home. Not much had changed, it was unnerving how much hadn’t. I’d changed, both physically and psychologically; I had been through trial and tribulation, witnessed what had truly become of our homeland, and nearly died more than a few times. Yet in here, nothing had changed. Aside from this oncoming “trial”, everypony giving me weird looks, and my armed escort, things were essentially the same. It was like I never left. The feeling was hammered home (no pun intended) when I found I had wandered to my old office.

“Per deae Iam redit extrinsecus! By the Goddesses, you’re back!” My friend, Insusurro, exclaimed, looking up from an ancient-looking book. “You’re good, he’s fine with me.” He said to the escorts, who looked at each other, shrugged, and left. “Sucks about this whole trial thing, huh? What happened to your ear?”

I sighed, the hole in my ear burning as if it knew we were talking about it once again. “I got shot. Long story.” I said, “Do you even know why I’m on trial? Or why Deduc felt the need to essentially imprison both of my parents? What the hell is going on here?” I walked over to my desk as I spoke. It hadn’t even been touched-my To Do pile was just the same as I’d left it, my little knickknacks, the picture of my family was still there, if a little dusty. And, to my elation, my spare pair of glasses was still in the top left drawer. “Sweet Celestia and Luna above, I can see again…” I muttered, resolving to try and go a week without breaking and/or losing them.

“You got shot?” Insusurro asked, “Well I guess I’m not surprised. I guess that’s what happens when you piss off the Equestrian Army. Thanks for that, by the way.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Don’t act like we don’t know. Deduc Indagator told us everything. You went out, were met by New Equestrian Army officials who were going to help reintegrate us into society, killed their envoy, ran off, and now they’re threatening to come in and take the stable by force unless you’re brought to justice. So yeah, thanks man. We really appreciate it.”

I blinked again. “What now?” New Equestrian Army? Reintegration? Where was he getting all this? Better yet, where was Deduc Indagator getting all this? “It’s been nothing like that. There is no New Equestria; there’s no Equestria, period! The war’s over and everypony lost, there’s nothing but wasteland out there.”

Insusurro didn’t even look up from his work as he spoke to me. “Look Close, it’s good to see you well-mostly well, at least-but I really shouldn’t be talking to you. Salve, Close.”

* * *

Parum, Butcher, and Sunny found me in the empty atrium, sipping a protein and vitamin shake and staring off into space, lost in my own thoughts. They too each had their own security escort, which joined mine in watching us from a respectable distance while the two mares sat across from me. “Stable ponies are fuckin’ weird.” Sunny stated. She took a whiff of my shake and wrinkled her nose. Her horn glowed for a moment, then extinguished as she sighed and hung her head. We had been allowed to travel Stable 81 as we please, but our personal belongings had been confiscated. Parum and I were back in Stable 81 barding, and our saddlebags had been removed. My statuettes, Parum’s spear, armored barding, and combat drugs, Butcher’s rifle, and Sunny’s pistols and alcohol were sitting pretty in Special Operations. If Deduc Indagator had her way, we’d probably never see them again.

“Do you know why they’re doing this? I can’t get anything from anypony: my coworkers, my students…” Parum whispered, her eyes flicking to the guards.

“Apparently I was met by a ‘New Equestrian Army’, who’s envoy I killed before running off and completely abandoning the stable. Now said army is about to break down the door and drag us out by force unless I’m punished.” I explained. “Look, I know it’s stupid, but no matter how hard I tried, Insusurro couldn’t be dissuaded.” I added at the mares’ dumbstruck looks. “Have you seen dad yet?” I asked.

“I haven’t ever seen my dad.” Sunny piped in.

“No. They won’t let us see him, and won’t say why.” Parum answered, ignoring her. That certainly added yet another layer to my mounting confusion; why could we see mom, but not dad? What were they playing at? Just what was going on here?

“Sounds like a classic ‘lie to the public and demonize the truth’ situation. Reminds me of the Enclave…” Butcher muttered. When I looked at her, confused, she just coughed and looked away. Something for later, I guessed.

* * *

Turns out I’d changed in yet another way: I no longer really cared as much about raising any sort of fuss or being a part of any sort of conflict. Although Stable 81 could contain anywhere between 250 to 300 ponies at any one time split into various departments, which themselves were fairly autonomous, it was a small stable; word got around fast, and a slight against a pony in one department could definitely make life miserable for an offending pony in another. So, like most ponies, I generally kept to myself when out and about. The thought of it actually drew a chuckle from me as I pinned one of my former stablemates to the steel wall by her neck. I’d left the cafeteria to wander the lower levels, where the stable’s Maintenance Department was housed. A maze of generators, purifiers, pumps, and other such machinery, added to my burgeoning skills, and it was simple enough to lose my escort for a bit. How long, I couldn’t be sure-I still had my PipBuck, and it was only a matter of time before one of them thought to look up my tag. But I had some time, and I used it to surprise Parua, a pony who so happened to work in the Special Operations. Lucky me! If memory served, she was the same pony I’d handed a seemingly random note to so long ago.

“You’re the…traitor…” Parua grunted.

“Etiam non es ingenio? Well aren’t you a genius?” I cooed, “Look, I want answers, and I’m sure you don’t want to cross the pony that killed an Equestrian Army envoy, so how about we cooperate, hmm?” An ancient Zebra book once said that war was about deception and fear; regardless of the actuality of a situation, if you play on somepony’s fear, they’ll be butter in your hooves. I was banking on this, because while I had slowly come to accept that killing others was a necessary part of wasteland life, I didn’t think I was ready to murder a fellow stable pony.

She must have been new when I last saw her; she broke almost immediately. “Whatever you want, just please don’t kill me!” she pleaded, her eyes moving frantically from side to side, searching for somepony, anypony, to help.

“What was on that note?” I asked. It had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on it, and my suspicion of it had come back in force after I’d returned. “What did it say?”

“What note? I don’t know what you’re-“

“Stultum me credis? Do you think me a fool? The note! The one I handed to you personally before I left! What did it say?” I yelled.

“I-it was a cipher…” Parua explained, becoming more and more panicky, “’Send the pony holding this’, that’s all, I swear!” What? Send them where? Had I been chosen for the expedition just because I happened to be the last one to have the note? Did Insusurro know about it when he asked me to drop it off in the first place?

There was a shout of “There he is!” from down the corridor; the guards had found me. I let go of Parua, who shouted hoarsely, “He was going to kill me!”

“I was n-“ I started, only to be tackled to the floor by two armored security ponies. There was a brief struggle as they pinned me, and with a baton strike I was out for the count.

* * *

Stable 81’s atrium served many purposes: cafeteria, party room, conference room for Stable-wide departmental meetings, and as a general hangout spot. Today it served as a courtroom. After my little escape/interrogation, I’d been thrown, hoofcuffed, into a small conference room to think about what I’d done. Now I sat at a small table with my sister, facing Deduc Indagator, who had her own table. To my right was a third table, which would serve as a witness stand, if there were any sense to be had out of this farce. The rest of the stable sat behind me, muttering amongst themselves. Sunny, unable to scrounge up any alcohol to help her cope with the situation, had attempted a hostile takeover of Special Operations to try and reclaim her possessions, and was now confined in the stable’s jail. Butcher had been thrown in as well-crime by association. Considering the amount of attention being a pegasus in a stable had garnered, I was sure she found it preferable to being in here.

“Close…”

I turned, snapped out of my reverie. Afflata, my mother, was standing behind me. It’d been twelve hours since I had last seen her, and she looked worse than ever. “I just want you to know that no matter what happens…I love you and your sister more than anything. I’ve always been…so proud of you.” She whispered, her last words breaking into a small sob.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” I asked flatly.

“What?! What makes you think-“

“You feel bad for treating me like shit my entire life, and now you’re trying to absolve yourself of any guilt before I’m executed, which
I assume is what they’re going for. Now if you really loved me, you may have just tried a little harder to not have your children put on trial.” I spat, looking at Deduc instead of her. Mom began to weep softly, and Parum just hung her head. Harsh? Sure, but I really was in no mood for fake commiserations.

Deduc cleared her throat, and her horn glowed white as she magically magnified her voice. “This court will now come to order!” she commanded. The room fell silent almost immediately, excluding the occasional throat clearing. Even mom had stopped crying-at least, stopped sniffling.

“Close Call,” Deduc began, “You, as well as your sister, Parum Sororem, have been charged with treason against your Stable, as well as reckless endangerment of those which live within its walls. How do you plead?”

I bristled, but kept my composure. “Not guilty. And let it be known that these charges are slanderous and contrived, and I hold that Stable leadership has in fact lied to its citizens in order to bring legitimacy to these claims.” There was murmuring behind me. Dissent amongst the ranks?

“Noted.” Deduc said, “The defense may call their first witness.” Wait, witness? I had witnesses? “Perhaps you would like to start with a friend or family member?” she added after a minute of me staring blankly at her.

I saw the chance and I took it. “Get my father, Admiratus, out here. Now.” Deduc glared at me briefly before nodding toward one of the security ponies. Minutes later they returned, escorting a forest green unicorn with a gavel cutie mark. Admiratus was a large pony, muscular and toned. When he was still young enough to be a blank flank he’d been pegged for combat studies, but instead had become a scholar of Zebra government and politics. Over time he’d moved up in his department, and until recently had not only served as the head of his department, but also served as Chief Justice of Stable 81. Trust me, the irony was not lost on us all. Side note, his daughter had been the one to go into combat studies, in another (minor) twist of irony.

As he stepped up to the witness’ table, he turned to me and nodded, before addressing out esteemed leader directly. “As I told you before, I know my children. The Stable and the welfare of its citizens come second only to the dedication they hold to the attainment and spread of knowledge. I doubt either of them have killed anypony, much less that Close Call tore his way through an entire military envoy. This court is a farce, and I will not stand idly by while you railroad him and my daughter on trumped-up charges.

“My children are not murderers.”

Parum’s head snapped up so fast I swear I heard her neck pop. I coughed explosively and took my turn to stare at the floor. “Does the defendant have something to add?” Deduc asked, with more than a hint of a smile in her voice.
I opened my mouth to tell her no, only to be interrupted by my sibling. “Four hundred and nineteen!” she shouted. Every eye in the room was on us now if they weren’t already. “I’ve killed four hundred and nineteen ponies!” Parum shouted again, before shutting up again.

Now the eyes were on me. After a moment of staring at my sister in disbelief, I did a quick internal count before muttering, “Six.”

“So you have murdered before?” Deduc questioned.

“Only in self-defense!” I countered vehemently, though my words were lost in the ensuing din, which erupted into a cacophony of anger and disgust. It echoed off of the walls, as if the stable itself-my home-were venting its unending disappointment in me and my sister.

“Order! I will have order!” Stable 81’s Lead Researcher bellowed over the crowd, her magically enhanced voice drowning theirs out. “I believe we have heard all we needed to hear. This court moves to-“

“You’re being lied to!” I interrupted, speaking more to my stable than to its leader. “There is no New Equestrian Army; there’s no Equestria, period!” There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and I took it while I could. “I’ve been Outside for nearly a month now, gathering information, doing my job. You can look through my reports and listen to my logs if you want, because I’ve recorded only the truth. There is nothing left of the Equestria our forefathers knew. What does remain is little more than a skeleton, where ponies struggle to survive, much less organize any sort of government, much less an army! I don’t know where you’ve been getting your information from, but they’re wrong!”

The look on Deduc Indagator’s face wasn’t the bafflement or sudden realization I‘d hoped for. Instead, she looked insulted. “How dare you? How dare you?! It is clear to me that not only are you a murderer, you have come back only to spread sedition amongst us! Close Call and Parum Sororem, I hereby sentence you both to death, to be carried out immediately!”

“Now see here!” My father shouted over the resuming din, but Deduc ignored him. Cries of “Kill ‘em!” and “They won’t fool us!”, as well as “You can’t do that!” and “This is wrong!” I wasn’t paying attention to them, though; I was paying attention to the pistol Deduc had floated out and was now pointing at my table. She truly was going to be judge, jury, and executioner.
It happened in a matter of seconds, though it felt like hours. I froze. My father began to turn, perhaps to leap towards the offending mare. One of the security ponies shoulder-checked him, while the other piled on top of him. At the same time, there was movement behind me as my mother, catching me by surprise, threw herself between me and my sister. She shoved us aside, and I heard the crack as I fell.

Once, when I was just a foal (an only one, at that), I had snuck into my parents’ room on an adventure which can only be fabricated in the minds of the young. Their room was tidy, and depressingly lacking in anything interesting or adventurous. What did catch my eye was a framed photograph on their nightstand. It was Afflata, my mother, only younger. Later I would surmise that it had been right around the time my parents started seeing each other. In the picture, she was painting, rendering in brilliant color the battle of Shattered Hoof. The photograph was in black and white, but even as a foal I could see every color, both on the wall and her face; I could see it in her eyes as they shone with passion and inspiration.

Her eyes didn’t shine that day. When she fell beside me her eyes just stared on, unseeing, unfeeling. In the distance I could hear Parum screaming, the echo of my father’s shouting. My own eyes flared; as my mother lay dead beside me, I knew exactly what I was going to do next. Deduc pointed the pistol again towards me, pulling back the hammer but not firing. In hindsight, she probably expected me to react as another member of the stable would have: stop, perhaps try to talk my way through it, or perhaps just sit there and let it happen. It’s exactly what I would’ve done a month ago. But that had been then; now, I’d been in the Wasteland. I had been shot, stabbed, beaten, and blown up-a single pony pointing a single weapon at me wasn’t the terror-inducing sight it had once been. So the look of abject disbelief on her face as I vaulted over the overturned table wasn’t that much of a surprise to me.
I landed on her table, smashing her across the face with my PipBuck. Her magic hold on her weapon broke and it skittered to the floor. I spun, following up with a rear hoof kick that spent her sprawling. She tried to get up, but she was too slow, and I was enraged. I leapt off the table, landing on her with all four hooves, keeping her on her back. I felt multiple ribs crack underneath me, and I couldn’t help but smile. As I raised a hoof to strike again, she caught me off balance and threw me off. I recovered quickly, and when I got up I saw she’d risen as well, one hoof clutching at her chest and breathing heavily. I could have let the fight end there, left her broken and beaten, but alive, let the stable dictate whatever justice they believed she deserved. Instead I charged forward, sliding underneath her on my back. I struck out at her three remaining limbs in what had become my signature move and rolled out of the way as she fell, paralyzed, to the floor. I didn’t just leave her there while I ran, however; I sprang once again on her, beating her mercilessly on her face with my bare hooves. There was naught left but hair, red paste, and bits of bone left when somepony finally pulled themselves together and pulled me away.

* * *

The rest of the day was a blur. The stable as a whole was too stunned to celebrate, mourn, revolt, or really do much of anything, so my friends and I pretty much got free reign to do whatever the hell we wanted. Parum and Butcher scrounged for medical supplies and combat drugs from the stable’s massive supplies, Sunny had long since given up even fabricating excuses to use my family’s shower. Me? I was cleaning house. First, a trip to Special Operations. Unfortunately, the encryption they used on their terminals was far and above my level of understanding, and although they didn’t seem to mind me poking around their department, nopony was going to give me their passwords. It wasn’t a complete loss; aside from my group’s belongings, I managed to snag a recollector-a device capable of giving non-unicorns the ability to view memory orbs. Now I could take a look at some more of those memory orbs I acquired from the Ministry of Morale! I mean, at this point I guessed my mission was null and void, considering the mare that had given it to me in the first place was right now being incinerated.

That’s when it hit me: what was I going to do now? What reason did I have to leave? For once, the answer came almost as soon as I’d asked the question: find out what started all of this in the first place. Not the war-I was piecing that together bit by bit myself. No, I wanted to know the real reason I’d been sent out in the first place, and why Deduc Indagator had been so…zealous in her recapture and almost-execution of me and my sister.

After Special Operations, I made my way to DI’s old office. I’d been struck with an idea, and was acting on it. The door opened readily; as I said, my friends and I had been given (almost) free reign of the stable. Walking in, the wall on my right was comprised entirely of bookshelves, with the left wall being dominated by a large circular window. In the center of the room was an ornate wooden desk, not steel like the rest of ours, with a single terminal sitting atop it. I stepped to the window and looked out, out over the atrium and the few ponies milling about. If I remembered correctly, the other side of this glass was just a sign, something about serving our nation as well as our stable-something you just stopped paying attention to after a few years. So it turns out that Deduc Indagator had been able to watch us (at least in a limited way), and we would have had no idea. Creepy.

But that wasn’t what I was here for. I turned instead to the terminal. Surprising me almost more so than finding my sister locking lips with another filly, it was completely unlocked. Hubris, perhaps? That’s where my luck ran out, however: before the sham of a trial, Deduc had erased everything. Either that, or when these outside ponies had given her orders, they hadn’t done it through the terminal. Defeated for now, I headed back to my family’s living quarters. Hopefully nopony would be there, and I could watch a memory orb and meditate on what I was going to do next in peace.

* * *

oooOOOooo

“This could be the biggest story since Luna returned, what do you mean I can’t go?!” My host almost shouted. By pure chance (or was it?), I’d chosen an orb which once again featured Gum Shoe-or Gummy to her friends-an investigative reporter living and working in prewar/wartime Whinnyapolis. While in the orb, I was privy to everything but her thoughts; what she saw, what she heard, what she felt….I was a passenger in her body. The first time I’d viewed an orb, I had missed a chunk of it freaking out because I thought somepony or something had stolen my colt-bits. Now, however, I was (slightly) more used to it, even though Gum Shoe’s wings still freaked me out a little bit.

“I mean you can’t go, and that’s that!” The stallion in front of her (us) answered, obviously exasperated. A brown unicorn with a black mane that was graying at the roots, smoking a cigar, it looked like whatever he said, went. Must’ve been her editor. “We’ve already gotten our statement from the Army’s press representative: there is no ‘plague’, and there is no ‘quarantine’. What we are seeing is just an adverse and severe reaction to Wartime Stress Disorder, nothing more, and I will not have you trying to break into a military base just to satisfy your filly-like fantasies! Your answer is no, and that’s final!” He shouted, slamming his hooves on his desk for good measure, before sitting down again and shuffling through some paperwork. It must have been her cue to leave, because my host turned around and stormed out, her eyes clouding with tears. Whether they were tears of sadness, anger, or both, I didn’t know-I was merely along for the physical ride, not the mental one. She came to rest at her desk with a huff and flutter of her wings.

“J.J. tell ya no again, huh?” Asked the yellow unicorn sitting across from my host. She smiled apologetically, and shrugged. “Just give it up. I did. Otherwise he’ll just keep giving you shit assignments.”

Gum Shoe blinked, as if realizing something. “Watch my desk?” she asked. The unicorn barely had time to nod before my host grabbed a tape recorder and zipped out of an open window.

As I’ve said before, I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten, and hunted. But now I could say, without any shadow of a doubt, that flying was the most terrifying experience of my life. Although Gum Shoe’s special talent was being a reporter, she was one hell of a flyer. It’d taken less than a second to grab her recorder and get outside, and once she was in the open air, the wind beneath her wings, whipping her hair back and forth, rising even above the skyscrapers of Whinnyapolis…it was exhilarating. That is, it was exhilarating once I was able to stop screaming. I had no idea what she was doing or where she was going, except that when the memory ended,
we were over the suburbs, heading toward a large, multi-story structure decorated with Galician columns.

oooOOOooo

I awoke in what some time ago had been my room, looking into the deep green eyes of my father, Admiratus. “How long have you been there?” I asked, wary of his stare.

“Not long.” He replied simply. “Close…we need to talk.”

Please don’t be another trial… I thought, sighing. “About Deduc?”

“She is a part of it, yes…”

“Ad rem. Get to the point.” I cut in. Between coming back in the first place, my mother getting murdered in front of my very eyes, murdering Stable 81’s leader in turn, I was in no mood for games.

“You, your sister, and your friends have been declared persona non grata. We need you to leave as soon as you can.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________
Level Up!
Perk Acquired: Fast Metabolism-You’ve finally grown accustomed to life in the Wasteland, and now you gain 20% more health from healing potions and bandages!

Author's Note

I honestly don't have much to put here this time. As always, thank you all for reading, especially those who've stuck through this long! I hope you're enjoying Close Call, and please please PLEASE let me know how I'm doing and/or any ideas you may have either way! Again, I have no editor and tend to do whatever feels right at the time, which can be iffy at times. Like now, when it's 4 in the am and I'm almost ready to pass out. Anyhow, happy reading!

10: In Which Roles Are Reversed, and the Innocuous Turns Imperative

Chapter 10: In Which Roles Are Reversed, and the Innocuous Turns Imperative

“Qui si convien lasciare ogni sospetto; ogni viltà convien che qui sia morta.”
"Here must all distrust be left behind; all cowardice must be ended."
-Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

”Well hoooooo-eeee, children, do I have some news for you!
Remember Little Miss Hellion? Scourge of Raiders, Bane of Evildoers, Avatar of All That is Good and Decent? Remember that Egghead I told you about? Companion of Sunny, Harbinger of the Twins? Well turns out…they’re related! Brother and sister! You can’t make this shit up! The only reason the good little colts and fillies of Whinnyapolis can knock raiders off their ‘Shit That’ll Kill Me Before I Get My Cutie Mark’ list is because their savior was out looking for her troublemaking brother! And no sooner did they find each other than they were seen heading right back to their comfy little stable. It’s lookin’ like it’s time to batten down the hatches again, Whinnyapolis; at least y’all had a month of safety. More than the rest of us can ever expect. This is DJ PON-3, giving you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts.”

* * *

I awoke in what some time ago had been my room, looking into the deep green eyes of my father, Admiratus. “How long have you been there?” I asked, wary of his stare.

“Not long.” He replied simply. “Close…we need to talk.”

Please don’t be another trial… I thought, sighing. “About Deduc?”

“She is a part of it, yes…”

“You, your sister, and your friends have been declared persona non grata. We need you to leave as soon as you can.”

My mouth dropped open. I just stared at my father for a few minutes while my brain reset itself, trying to process the information it had just received. “Quid est hoc?” I whispered, unbelieving.

“After the…trial, the remaining department heads met to decide what to do next. Among other things, it was decided that You, your sister, and your friends’ presence only served to further destabilize the situation, and that it would be best for the stable as a whole if you left.” He explained. I had to hand it to him, at least he looked me in the eye as he kicked me out of my own home.

“Haec mea sedes, this is my home…Non potes facere illud! You can’t do this!” I countered, my voice rising. A small part of me was able to reflect on the irony of the situation: I could hardly be bothered to speak Roaman when my mother was alive, and now that she was dead I was hardly able to snap out of it.

Admiratus took a step back, and although his face upheld that stoic mask, the step told me enough: he was afraid of his own son. The Great and Powerful Admiratus, constantly a shining example of what a pony working in Stable 81 should be, was afraid of his own son. Afraid enough, it seemed, to agree to permanently exile his children. No amount of fancy wording could mask what was behind this; Stable 81 was scared of us.

He left without another word. No more needed to be said; we would get one more night here before they stopped asking so nicely. I wanted to rage, to show them something to be afraid of. I wanted to tear apart my room, my parents’ room, Parum’s room…just tear our entire housing unit a new one. I wanted to march up to each and every department head and show them just how persuasive the wasteland had made me. But I didn’t. My father’s proclamation had been the straw (or rather, the two-ton brick) that broke the camel’s back; after that, I was just too tired to do, well, much of anything. Anything, that is, except to gather my friends and leave the place I’d once called home.

* * *

I’d barely walked out of my family’s housing unit when I ran into my sister, Parum. “Hey, I just passed Dad…” She said, looking back behind her, “I said hi, but he wouldn’t answer me…he wouldn’t even look at me. What’s going on?”

“We’ve been kicked out of the stable.” I said flatly, “Apparently we’re destabilizing, so it was in everypony’s best interest that we leave.”

Parum’s ears drooped as she looked to the floor. “Oh, okay…” she muttered, “I’ll meet you…I’ll meet you at the entrance then, I guess.”

I nodded without saying a word, not even looking at her as I passed by. I found Butcher as I passed the medical bay. “Fuckin’ stable-ponies…Oh, hey Close! Since when did you wear glasses?” She greeted me with a surprised cheeriness. She was blushing, probably knowing that I’d heard her. What she may not have known, is that I could really care less by now. At this point, “fuckin’ stable-ponies” summed up my sentiments exactly.

“Pack up whatever you need and grab Sunny. We’ve been asked to leave.” I responded blankly, ignoring her question, “I want to try and make Sukawaka by nightfall.”
She blinked, confused and a little abashed. Her wings fluttered as she asked, “Why there? Why’re we leaving? Was it because of-“

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” I snapped, “The Twins started all of this, I just know it, and I’m going to find out why. Now come on, the sooner we’re out of here, the better.

“I’m done with this place.”

* * *

We left without fanfare; me silent, Sunny mumbling under her breath, Parum quietly weeping, and Butcher watching all of us with a worried eye. I didn’t even look back as once again the great steel door of Stable 81 closed, shrieking, plunging me (us) once again into the darkness.

“Well so much for hot showers the rest of my life.” Sunny groaned, “At least I’ll be able to drink again. Worth it.” She levitated a small bottle of Wild Pegasus out of her saddlebags, keeping it beside her an d taking a sip ever now and then while we made our way through the entrance tunnel.

“Do you ever care about anypony other than yourself?” Butcher snapped viciously at her, “These two have seen their mother murdered and been kicked out of the only home they’ve ever known, and all you care about is booze and a fucking shower?!”

“Fuck you, harpy!” Sunny spat back, “I know you’re probably still used to that paradise in the sky, but down here a mare’s gotta take what she can get. Shit happens, boo-fucking-hoo. Ya pick up and ya move on. Get off my fuckin’ back.”

“You first!” Butcher screamed. She unslung her massive rifle in a fluid motion and prepared herself for a swing-the thing was too big to fire in such close quarters, so she’d elected to just beat the unicorn to death with it. Sunny magically drew both of her pistols, and they joined the Wild Pegasus floating near her head. I coiled myself to spring at either one of them-if this is how it was going to go down, I wasn’t going to just be a bystander. I’d been one my entire life, and I swore I was never going to be one again.

“Stop it!” Parum yelled. Even faster than Sunny and Butcher, her Zebra spear was out, and she smacked all three of us with the flat of the blade before we knew what was happening. “Just stop it…” she repeated, dropping her spear and collapsing in a fit of sobs. I gaped at her open-mouthed, and Sunny coughed but holstered her weapons. It was Butcher who went to her and hugged her, whispering that it was going to be alright while shooting the occasional dark look at us. Eventually Parum recovered, and we set off again, silent. Even Sunny kept her mouth shut.

* * *

Although I’d wanted to reach Sukawaka by nightfall, we’d left too late in the day, and made camp in the remains of a convenience store. Sunny, per her namesake, provided a magical light for us while we foraged for materials we could use to make a fire inside. Per her and Butcher, lighting a fire inside a building made some sort of sense: it would prevent us from being seen by raiders or bandits, and since the building was half-destroyed (just like everything else out here), venting the smoke would pose no issue.

Once we were nice and settled, Butcher pulled me aside. “Can we talk?” she asked. I nodded, and we stepped outside. The wind blew cold over the hills-during the day, I’d finally been able to get a more complete picture of the area around my former home. Beforehand, I had been unconscious thanks to Sunny’s exuberance in her mission. Stable 81 was situated in a valley between two hill ranges-one north, one south. It was built into the southern hills and below, about a day’s journey south from Sukawaka. It was the northern hills I now turned away from, both to face my pegasus friend and to get my face out of the wind.

“First, how are you doing?” Butcher asked softly. I thought I could hear the pity in her voice, and it did nothing but stroke the fire burning inside me.

“Well, let’s see…” I answered sharply, “I saw my mother murdered by a pony I used to idolize and-to be honest-fantasize about for some mysterious reason, beat said pony into paste, and while I was trying to figure out what to do with my now-pointless life, was booted out of my own home by my own father. So I’m going just fantastic. Yourself?”

I expected her to recoil, flinch, look away, something, but instead she just stared at me. Although I could hardly see her face, I could sense the anger emanating from it. “You said you parents never paid much attention to you, right? How all the laurels were place on your sister?” she asked. I nodded and opened my mouth to speak, but she stopped me. “Well how do you think she feels?” she asked, matching my own tone.

That hit me hard-I hadn’t thought of that. I wasn’t going to let it show, though; I’d been weak before, and look at where it’d gotten me. “Why don’t you get some sleep,” I said, changing the subject, “I’ll take first watch.” The pegasus gave me one last look of reproach and an angry flutter of her wings before heading back inside. When I did sleep, it wasn’t well.

* * *

There is no light anymore.

There had always been a light, outlining shapes on the wall.

But now there is none.

I can’t see anything, but I can feel. The chains still bind my hooves. They are heavy, and I don’t think I can lift them.

I can hear, too. Voices familiar, but only just. I’ve known them before, or at least part of them, but now they’re further away.

“Such a shame…” Says one, refined and proper.

“He was almost there! Look, maybe we can…” Says another, annoyed.

“No! He has t’ do it himself!” Interrupts a third. She speaks again, only this time, I think, to me. “C’mon, sugarcube, y’all have t’ do this yourself. We’ve helped all we can.”
I blink, trying to process what this phantom pony has just said. “What’s….a sugarcube?”

* * *

I awoke at dawn, feeling tired and drained. For a brief moment, the previous day was just a bad dream: we were still on our way back to the stable, and I was finally going to be home again and not have to wonder if I was going to survive the day. It was only a moment, though, before the memories cleared beyond what could have been a dream. My mother’s eyes, staring out into infinity, my father, refusing to look me in mine as he kicked us out…images this clear could only come from memory. The reality of my current situation hit hardest when, hardly a moment after I’d opened my eyes and begun to shrug off the last vestiges of sleep, we were attacked.

“Gator One, on me! Gator Two, Gator Three, cover their flanks! Nopony’s getting away this time!” Somepony shouted, followed almost immediately by battle-cries and gunfire. Thunder boomed behind me, deafening. An old gas pump erupted in sparks as Butcher’s bullet blew through it, as well as through the pony who had been hiding behind it. I looked up, and in the growing sunlight I could see a score of mercenary ponies rushing towards us. They wore shiny black armor, and carried military-grade weapons-whoever these ponies were, they meant business. I turned and opened my mouth, meaning to tell my friends to run…but I stopped myself. Instead, my warning turned into a yell as I charged their lines. No less than ten ponies in front of me, all firing in my direction; I felt the hot graze of a bullet as I slammed into the front pony, bringing us both crashing to the ground in a roll. His torso, back, and shoulders were protected by his ceramic armor-but his neck was wide open. I came out of the roll on top of him, and I savored the crunch of bone and cartilage as I stomped down hard on his throat. I left him to splutter and die, and turned to the next pony in line, this one a unicorn floating a carbine rifle. I knocked it out of her magical grasp as she swung it around to point toward me. Instead of attacking me with what she had, however, she tried to pick it back up; I used this distraction to kick at her leg, fracturing it at the joint. She screamed until I planted both my rear hooves in her face, snapping her neck.

“You’re fucking dead!” A third pony shouted. He didn’t get much farther than that-two and a half feet of sharpened spear blade through his bottom jaw and brain made it a bit difficult for him. Parum withdrew it with a wet squelch, magically launching it toward another merc, catching them in the chest, straight through their armor. I left her to deal with the remainder on that side; she’d survived this long on her own, and I still had two or three myself to contend with. Two of them rushed me, while the third hung back with a hunting rifle. I met them head on as their third lined up a shot. I felt a bullet enter my side as I grabbed one of them around the neck, using her as a shield; the third pony fired, his .308 caliber round punching through her armor. She screamed until, with the help of rage and adrenaline, I snapped her neck. I turned immediately to the next pony; a quick strike to his throat, a slide underneath for a hard kick at his undercarriage, roll out from under him as he fell, then use him as cover while his friend fired again. I leapt over him and charged the riflepony. He tried to fire, but his rifle jammed. I smiled. He dropped it and unsheathed a knife, but he was too late. I kicked it from his teeth, and used my momentum to pick it up myself and slit his throat. All said and done, I’d killed three ponies in about a minute. When I looked over to my sister, I saw her covered in blood, breathing heavily, and surrounded by the bodies of her enemy.

Goddesses help me I couldn’t help but laugh.

* * *

Sunny and Butcher cleaned up the flanking ponies easily enough; together we tallied thirty kills in just under an hour. Well, twenty-nine. The last pony, the leader, now sat in front of us. A shot from Butcher’s massive sniper rifle had taken off one of his legs, and his horn had been broken by one of Sunny’s rounds soon after; he was being kept alive and conscious via a combination of tourniquet and damn near every stim we had. Blood seeped from his wounds, staining the bare earth beneath him. If there had been any doubt in my mind (or anypony else’s) that I was the de facto leader of this motley crew, it was erased by the fact that the merc was still alive, although Butcher, and Sunny wanted to just end it for him and move on (Parum, having expended what energy she had in the fight, was helping pack up our stuff). He was alive because I wanted him alive. I needed answers, and as the old saying went, “dead ponies tell no tales”. So he was alive, at least for the time being, while I interrogated him, and my companions found various reasons not to be there.

I started simply enough. “Who sent you?”

“How about you sit on my horn and spin?” He spat. His breathing was labored, and it looked like he was trying his level best to keep me in focus while attempting to look tough at the same time. He wouldn’t last much longer.

I hit him across the face, hard. “Or what’s left of it.” I said, “You know, my pegasus friend over there is a medical pony. If you cooperate, she could very well save your life.” Sure, I may or may not have been lying, but he didn’t need to know that, did he?

Butcher flew over; her ears had probably been burning. “Close, just let him die. Enough is enough, you’ve been at this for over an hour!” she protested. Sure, she could talk-her family hadn’t been murdered in front of her eyes.

“I will once I get the answers I need!” I shouted angrily.

“You stableponies don’t know nothin’…” The merc groaned, grinning a bloody and broken grin. I looked at him levelly, daring him to elaborate. He did.

“Nopony hired us…” he continued, “Everypony’s after you, Egghead. The sooner those fucking Twins get what they want, the sooner they leave. So if all they want this time is a stablepony, then a stablepony is what they’ll get.” He closed his eyes. His breathing evened, becoming less ragged. He was still grinning when he died.

* * *

We walked in silence as we trekked north to Sukawaka. What the merc had said unnerved me; why would the Twins want with me? And why was everypony so desperate to give them to me? I thought back to the first DJ P0N-3 broadcast I’d ever heard-how the enigmatic and charismatic disk jockey had announced their supposed return, as well as giving the Wasteland my introduction. We’d been shunned in Harbor because of it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason anypony even looked at us in New Falmalla was because we were with my sister, aka the Hellion, Defender of the Innocent and Bane of Raiders and Ne’er-Do-Wells.

She wasn’t really being a Hellion right now, though: aside from battlecries uttered during the battle, she’d hardly said more than two words at a time since we had left the stable. She was on autopilot; if we stopped, she would stop. If she was hungry, she’d eat, although not much, and not often. Eyes that had been bright and alert were now downcast and dead. I thought about what Butcher had said, about how this was affecting her. A small part of me even worried for her, and for myself. That part was silenced, however, by the frenzy roaring through my veins. It drowned out any and all thoughts that didn’t pertain to tracking the Twins down, finding them, and putting their heads on matching pikes. Once they were dead and my mother avenged, then I could worry about the others.

But first, I wanted to find out more about them; “know thy enemy” and all. “Sunny?”

“’Sup?” The brown unicorn answered.

“Why is everypony so afraid of the Twins?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I mean, I’ve heard stories, but they came to me offering to pay my debts, so I said what the hell. Shoulda known they’d come after me too.”

“Stories?”

“Not just stories.” Butcher interrupted, “Sure, everypony makes something up about their area’s Big Bad, but most of it’s just hype.” She explained, “But the stuff you may hear about them, if you hear about them at all, is probably true. In the time I’ve been down here, the Twins have shown up twice: now, and once, about ten years ago.”

“Before my time, that’s for sure.” Sunny interjected.

Butcher nodded. “Anyhow,” she continued, “The last time they were here was at the beginning of a small war between rival gangs. Same one that led to Falmalla being occupied by raiders. Lots of ponies died, and others…they just disappeared. A whole settlement, just up and gone. A pony once wandered into my clinic, claiming he’d been taken. I could barely understand him, he was ranting. Rape, torture, what sounded like experimental drug trials and surgeries…real fucked up stuff. I asked around about them after that, but nopony’d talk about them, like it would bring them there. What I could get is that they showed up once more about thirty years ago, and that time a plague of some sorts swept across Whinnyapolis. I don’t know why they’ve zeroed in on you, but…” she drifted off, letting our imaginations finish for her.

She definitely got my attention though. A plague? The pony in the memory orb had written something about one, hadn’t she? Were they one and the same? Perhaps… “I wonder if that raider…” I murmured.

“What raider?” Butcher snapped.

“We found a raider in a Pony Joe’s a couple weeks ago.” I explained, “She was pretty much rotting alive.”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about that?” Sunny asked.

Butcher’s eyes went wide. “ Sores on her body, and eyes?” she asked sharply.

I nodded. “Her tongue even fell out.” I added. “We spent that night somewhere else.”

The growing evening darkness hid Butcher’s expression from me, but I could tell this news worried her. “Let’s go, we need to get to my clinic.” She said, “Parum Sororem, have you ever seen anything like that?” Parum must have shaken her head no, because when Butcher spoke again, it was to me: “Close, we need to get back to my clinic as soon as possible. I need to examine you and Sunny.”

“Why?” We both asked – me curious, her indignant.

We were interrupted by a brisk “Halt! State your business, travelers!” We had finally come upon the front gate to Sukawaka; a slapdash perimeter of scavenged parts manned by the Brotherhood and Sisterhood of Purity, or as they were more commonly known, the Gelders. Why the Gelders? Well because according to their doctrine, once all in the Wasteland have become pure in mind and body, the Princesses Celestia and Luna will come down from wherever they’ve been hiding and restore the world to what it once was; according to them, feeling horny is apparently impure, so they ritualistically remove their genitals. At least, the stallions do – I have no idea about the mares, nor do I really want to.

“Let me in, Brother!” Butcher called back, “Unless whatever pony you got to replace me is doing a better job?” The gate guards said nothing, and the gate trundled open.

* * *

“Tongue to the left…no, my left…mhm…now to the right…look, just put it on the opposite site of your mouth…and you’re clear. Your turn, slutbag.” Butcher instructed, peering into my mouth with a light strapped onto her forehead. I’d already told her I was fine; my PipBuck would’ve told me if there was anything wrong, and all it said was that there was a hole in my ear. She convinced me, and Sunny for that matter, however, with the infallible logic of “it’s either this or potentially rot away in indescribable pain and suffering”.

“What’d you call me?” Sunny snapped.

“Oh, I must’ve stuttered,” Butcher cooed, “What I meant to say was, ‘Your turn, slutbag, unless you want us to leave you here while your body decomposes from the inside out.’” Sunny didn’t move, she just opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. Butcher rolled her eyes and trotted over to examine her. “Tongue left…tongue right…say ‘ahhh’….alright, I think you’re clean…”

“Whaddya mean, you think?” Sunny exclaimed as our doctor walked away.

“I mean I’ve never actually been able to treat an actual plague victim, so I can say that, with my best medical guess, you’re fine. If your legs start falling off on their own, we’ll know I was wrong, won’t we?” Butcher responded over her shoulder. She was digging through her desk and rummaging through her shelves, picking out various tools and potions almost at random and throwing them into her saddlebags. “It’s a good thing we stopped by, in any case; I didn’t expect to be gone this long, and Celestia knows how long it’ll be before I come back.”

I blinked, confused. “Where are you going?”

“With you, of course.” She answered offhandedly, “I mean, unless you want Sunny to take care of you when you ponies inevitably get hurt.” She turned around to look straight at me, or rather, at my ear. The hole burned, as if it knew it was being talked about. I looked at Sunny, who in turn was looking at Parum. My little sister was sitting in a corner, staring at her PipBuck, saying nothing. Since she hadn’t been with us when we came upon the raider, she got to skip the exam, although a part of me was suspicious that Butcher just didn’t want to bother her any more than she had to. I myself was beginning to worry – back home, back before all of this, it was almost impossible to shut my sister up; now I was starting to wonder if she’d ever speak again. “I just need to straighten things out here, and we should be able to leave here in the morning.” Butcher continued brightly. She suddenly looked at me. “So where are we goin’?” she asked.

I turned. Sunny was looking at me too. Her eyes were windows to a lost soul which had been cursed to eternally and aimlessly wander the wastes, yet has suddenly found direction in another. They were confused, and rightfully so: the eyes looked to me for their direction; me, who had initially been their prisoner. I turned again. Parum Sororem was looking to me as well. I saw the conflict in her eyes: she wanted to go home, more than anything, but…she couldn’t. Neither of us could. But maybe, just maybe…maybe if we solved this, we could go home. Or at least try to find one out here. I turned back to Butcher. It still surprised me that somehow, even in the midst of three ponies, all of whom were more experienced in the Wasteland than I, I had been elected leader of them. I took a breath before answering. “We stock up on what we can, and head south. Curator said there’s an old mall there that’ll give us information on the Twins.” I said.

“And if we starve to death, hey, that way they can’t catch us.” Sunny added, heading to the door. “Imma go grab a drink. You coming Pissant?” Parum looked up as she was hailed, but shook her head no. She only continued to look at the device on her wrist.

* * *

That night, at my insistence, Butcher told me everything she knew about the Twins. Parum and I were late to the game, and Sunny hadn’t yet made her way this far north the last time they showed up. Butcher, however, had been around for the end of it. Where she was beforehand, she wouldn’t say; when I asked, she merely coughed and became deaf until I changed the subject.

As she’d said before, the Twins (there was no other name for them – nor did there need to be; if somepony said “The Twins”, others knew who you were talking about) had just…appeared in Whinnyapolis about a decade ago. Where they came from, or where they went when they were finished, nopony knew. What they did know, however, is that the Twins were death.

Back then there were four major gangs operating in Whinnyapolis: The Maudes, The Serpents, The Deadeyes, and The Reds. Who they were, or what they each did, didn’t matter. They each controlled their own sectors of the Whinyapolis Ruins; sometimes fighting each other, sometimes working with each other, sometimes just operating separate of each other.
“I remember I’d just come down.” Butcher explained, “I hadn’t set up shop in Sukawaka yet; I was more of a wandering medic. I was squatting outside of Falmalla –“

“Wait, the place infested by raiders?” I interrupted.

“Not ten years ago.” She answered simply, fixing with a gaze which advised against further interruptions. "Anyway, I was doctoring out of an old school when these two ponies came in. Twins.” I took a breath. “Yep. They looked fine, at least as fine as anypony down here can look, but I asked them if they needed help anyway. They could’ve been addicted to mentats or something. Anyway, they said they were looking for ponies…”

”We’re looking for ponies.” The Twins say in unison, straight-faced and unblinking. A young Butcher shifts uncomfortably on her hooves. Her flank still hurts her on occasion, and she doesn’t like the way they’re looking at her flyer’s jacket. There’s nopony else in the derelict schoolhouse, and hardly anypony else in town. Raider attacks have increased over the past few months, and most residents have opted for the relative safety of the city ruins. These two are actually her first customers in almost a week. They look fine, but who knows, maybe they’re addicted to some chems or something?

“I’m sorry, but there’s quite a few ponies. World’s full of ‘em.” Butcher responds offhandedly.

“You misunderstand, Sergeant.” The twin on her left says.

“We’re looking for specific ponies.” The one on her right echoes.

“Ponies like us” Left.

“Twins.” Right.

“Sisters.” Left.

Butcher hears them, but isn’t listening. They…they know her, somehow. She doesn’t know how they know, and she doesn’t want to know. The pain in her flank flares, and she takes a step back. “I…I haven’t seen any.” She says slowly, “You might want to check the new settlement in the Ruins, or the one east of here.”
The twins seem to mull it over for a moment before nodding simultaneously. “Thank you.” Is all they say before leaving.

Not two weeks after that visit, Whinnyapolis was at war. All four gangs, for seemingly no reason at all, were embroiled in a free-for-all of bullets, bodies, and burning. What parts of the city had survived the balefire bombs were aflame. At the same time, Butcher, following the unspoken advice of the other ponies who used to live in Falmalla, packed up and moved to Sukawaka, which had been recently occupied by the Gelders. In the light of the war in Whinnyapolis proper they had begun to fortify it, and Butcher now had more than herself to worry about. When I tried to ask about that, she became mysteriously deaf again until I let her continue.

It was while in Sukawaka when Butcher saw her first plague victim. She wasn’t as bad as mine and Sunny’s raider; she had only just begun to lose parts of her mane, and only one eye was showing even a hint of infection. Butcher treated her as best she could, but there was only so much postwar medicine could do. Butcher sent feelers out to the few other ponies she’d known at the time; there were seventeen more plague victims they knew about at the end of six months. And at the end of six months, three old mares were all that was left of the four largest gangs north of Manehattan. To the ponies of Whinnyapolis and the surrounding area, the Twins were Death. And somehow, for some reason, I had been the one to bring them back.

Level Up!
Perk Added – Terrifying Presence: You’ve lost that pretty clean mask of innocence, and the rawness of cynicism and hate shows clearly. You can intimidate ponies just by talking to them, even making them run away!

Author's Note

Hey everypony! Sorry for the wait there, I hope y'all haven't abandoned me yet! Anyhow, per usual, I'd like to thank Kkat for inspiration, and all of you for reading! I'm still looking for an editor/ghostwriter/helper in any sort, and please please PLEASE leave a comment and tell me what you think! I can only get better if I know what I'm doing wrong! Happy reading, and I'll see you in Chapter 11!

11: In Which an Enigma is Wrapped in Mystery, and Bonds Torn Asunder

Chapter 11: In Which an Enigma is Wrapped in Mystery, and Bonds Torn Asunder

“Nusquam est qui ubique est. Vitam in peregrinatione exigentibus hoc evenit, ut multa hospita habeant, nullas amicitias.”
“Everywhere means nowhere. When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends by having many acquaintances, but no friends.”
- Seneca the Younger, "Letter II: On Discursiveness in Reading”

“Again!”
“Quod maximas est…in nobis fit in…bello.” The yellow colt slowly recites, struggling over his words.

The magically suspended ruler comes down hard on the desk, missing the colt’s nose by millimeters. “No, no, no!” His instructor screams, “It’s maximum, you insita mala! Again!”

“Quod maximum est, in nobis fit in bello.” The colt repeats. The lack of ruler intervention prompts him to continue, “It is in warfare in which the greatest in us is achieved.”

“Good. Dismissed. Id gestum sufficiat vobis…”

The colt gathers his books and bolts out of the classroom, just as quick as he can. The elation of earning his cutie mark had faded quickly in the face of the grueling instruction that followed. The young colt has taken fairly well to languages and his understanding of Zebra writings, but “fairly well” isn’t good enough; he must be perfect. In Stable 81, no matter what you do, be it security, operations, linguist, or even a janitor, it must be done perfectly. Everything everypony does must be perfect for the day when they are called to serve their great nation against the striped menace. So the colt is drilled, day in and day out, alone in a steel box of a room with the current Head of Linguistics, on the various languages and lexicons of the Zebra Empire. It’s fine now, though; the day’s lesson is over and now the little yellow colt can relax at home with a book, or hang out with his friends in the atrium before curfew .

“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” He greets cheerfully as the foot to their unit gives a pneumatic hiss, closing behind him. His parents are sitting at the table in their kitchen: his father reading, his mother sewing. His father smiles and nods. His mother, however, frowns, turning her whole face sour.

“Close Call, you try that again, only properly this time.”

The yellow colt sighs. Every day since he was assigned to his position in the linguistics department, his mother would hardly speak to him unless he at least greeted her in Roaman. He wonders if any other colts or fillies yearn for the days before they earned their cutie marks before he answers her. “Hujambo mama, gani?” he says, allowing himself a small smile. His formal education at this moment is centered on Roaman, but he’s been studying the other Zebra dialects as well. Cowhili, for example.

“Ite ad locum tuum. Go to your room.” His mother snaps.

The smile disappears, and the yellow colt trudges to his room, hanging his head. He had thought for the briefest of moments his mother might be impressed by his command of more than two languages, especially considering how young he was. This fantasy, however, had led him to forget that she would instead take it as nothing more than blatant disrespect, and disrespect of one’s parents was one of the worse things one could do in Stable 81.

“It’s not fair!” The yellow colt screams into his pillow. He punches it a few times before collapsing back into his bed, seething.

He’s fallen asleep by the time his mother enters the room. “Quare persistunt confundis matrem? Why do you constantly go against me?” she asks softly. She probably assumes he still sleeps – rightfully so, as he is turned away from her, unmoving. The little yellow is awake, however; awake, and listening. “Tantum est ut nobis bene mane salutare meum; cur hoc tam est difficile? I only ask that you greet your father and I properly in the morning; why is this so hard for you?” She sighs in resignation. This would have been the end of it – at least, the end of that day’s argument, Goddesses knew it would’ve rekindled in the morning whether the little yellow colt had been awake or not – if she had left it at that. Yet before she stepped out of the room, the colt’s mother merely sighs again, adding, “Non tamen nactus esses, qui malus honesto loco... It wouldn’t be so bad if you’d at least gotten yourself a better job…”

“Sicut pictor? Like a painter?” The yellow colt answers, not even bothering to face his mother, “Painting pretty pictures nopony pays any attention to after a week?”
The chill in the room in as sudden as it is piercing. The colt’s mother slowly turns to face him. “Respice ad me. Look at me.” She says. When the colt doesn’t move, she repeats herself. “Respice ad me et dixi! I said look at me!”

He turns to face her, and is stunned to see not only the cold fury in her eyes, but also the tears beginning to form there. “Non patiar audire petulantes stultitia puer, ita tamen, ut non loquaris mihi. I will not make myself listen to the whining of a petulant child, and you will not speak to me in such a way. Putasne intellegis me? Do you understand me?” The colt still refuses to answer, only staring at her with all the rage a young pony can muster. “Close Call! Respondebis! You will answer me!” His mother shouts. A few tears fall free as she does this, but they go unnoticed by both parties.

“You’re just mad because no one cares about what your special talent is! Dad’s the only one that actually does anything!” The colt fires back. Standing on his bed now, he almost comes up to eye level with his mother.

She recoils as if struck. “Pater tuus audiens. Your father will hear about this.” She states, before turning on her heel and walking out. The door closes behind her, and there’s a small click on a lock.

“I hate you!” The colt screams after her, neither knowing nor caring if she heard him.

* * *

“I don’ give an alicorn’s asshole what you think of me, get up!” The slaver growled, giving me a sharp kick in the stomach. I awoke with a start, transitioning immediately from a sleeping position to a fighting stance. At least, I tried to – not for the first time, I had forgotten about the chains binding my hooves, and they rattled as they brought me back to the hard earth. The burly slaver pony barked harsh laugh before moving down the line to wake the others. There were four of us, each chained to the other: a pair of unicorn twins, a colt and filly with an odd-looking ring around each of their horns, an earth pony buck roughly my age, and myself. From what snatches of conversation I overheard, we were being taken down to Fillydelphia, to serve as slaves for a pony named Red Eye. Myself and the unicorn twins were being treated “special”, in that we weren’t being beaten as much as the earth pony buck, and…well, unlike him, our chains hadn’t been unlocked every night so we could be dragged into one of the slavers’ tents. Aside from this, I knew nothing of our captors, nor my fellow captives; every time one of us would try to speak, we would be kicked or whipped by one of the slavers. It was better to just stay quiet.

From what I could hear, however, today was special. How it was special, I had no idea. Our small group had been reinforced by more slavers, these ones more heavily armed than our captors. Also, where before they had been wont to loudly boast about the various things that they were going to do to us – rape us, kill us, eat us, perform experiments on us, maybe rape us again – today they were quiet, speaking only in hushed whispers. We weren’t even moving; I thought we’d only been waiting on these new reinforcements, but now they were waiting too. Waiting for what? Was the wasteland south of Whinnyapolis really that dangerous? I shuddered at the thought. I barely survived my travels around the city and its outskirts, I could hardly imagine what would be more dangerous than raiders or alicorns. I shuddered to think of what I would do if any of them showed up.

A pony once said, “Speak of Nightmare Moon, and she shall appear”. After a few hours of waiting, I heard the flapping of wings. The slavers looked up and called out to whoever was above. I never would have thought that a face could hold equally as much relief as it did apprehension, just as our captors’ did.

Three massive, almost regal alicorns touched down in the middle of our camp. They stood amongst us, dark and imposing; from their green-so-dark-it’s-almost-black coats to their blank flanks, each in itself a perverted Nightmare Moon. I hadn’t seen any of these terrifying monsters for at least a few weeks – I don’t know why I’d thought myself finally rid of them. I wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy: the earth pony to my right whimpered like a foal, and a visible sweat had broken out on the forehead of the slaver nearest us. I just looked down, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me, hoping they were here for anypony but me. The past few weeks had been bad enough without getting captured by this crazy “Goddess”. It was strange, though: every other time I’d seen these creatures, they had had some sort of force field around them, but these had none. Perhaps they trusted these ponies? Were the alicorns working with slavers?

* * *

“Again?! Quid est quod tibi est?! What is wrong with you?!” I had screamed. Parum Sororem, my little sister, had seemingly out of nowhere stopped and started weeping. This had been the fourth time she’d done this since we had left Sukawaka, and that was four times too many for me. “Putavi quia supponitur esse fortissimos? I thought you were supposed to be the toughest little filly ever? This is pathetic!”

“Hey, leave her alone! What the fuck is your problem man?” Sunny chimed in, looking back at the two of us, at me with perhaps only slightly more reproach than normal, and at Parum with a softness I never would have thought her capable of. “I mean, I have no idea what the fuck you’re saying, but back off, she’s only a filly!”

“A filly who’s killed more ponies than the both of us combined!” I snapped back, rearing on the brown unicorn, for a moment completely ignoring my weeping sister to focus all of my energy on her.

“Guys, let’s just calm down, okay?” Butcher asked, keeping her tone level, “We can stop, it’s ok. We’re making good time, and there’s really no rush.”

“No rush? The last time we waited around one of my parents died, and the other kicked me out! No, we keep going.” I spat back, “I’m not stopping until I’ve found those Twins and put my hoof through their skulls, understand?” That had become my goal now: find the Twins, and kill them. If somewhere along the way I found out why they’d orchestrated my coming out here in the first place, that would just be icing on the delicious cake I was going to make with their entrails. Something had snapped when I saw the leader of my stable shoot my mother; the old Close Call was gone now, dead along with her. This new Close wasn’t the whimpering, commiserating, compromising wimp I had been; he was angry, he was deadly, and he no longer cared about anything more than finding those twins and spilling their blood.

“Who the fuck made you king?” Sunny asked me then.

I reared on her. “What, like you have anything better to do?” I asked, “If you don’t like it, why don’t you just go? Go, run! Run away like you always do; I wish you luck when your debtors come to collect.”

“Fine then!” The unicorn screamed, turning on her heels. She stalked off, only looking back to shout, “Anything’s better than following you pricks around. I’ll see y’all in hell.”
“Damn you, Close, what’ve you done?” Butcher cursed. She flew off after Sunny before I could answer, calling for her to come back. I turned to Parum, who, while having stopped openly sobbing, was still sniffling, and still sitting.

“Well?” I snapped, “Are you coming or not?” She didn’t answer, only stared at her hooves. I snorted. “Some Hellion you are then.”

I walked off, and didn’t look back.

* * *

“Whaddya mean, ‘We’ll take ‘im’?” One of the slavers shouted at the alicorn.

“WE MEAN EXACTLY AS WE SAID: WE WILL BE TAKING THE YELLOW ONE WITH US. THE GODDESS WANTS HIM FOR HER OWN PURPOSE.” The middle alicorn shouted back. I winced, as did my fellow captives; when these things spoke, it wasn’t with their mouths, it was with their minds. And they always shouted. Always. Shouted. “THE GODDESS WILL SEND MORE OF US TO ESCORT YOU TO RED EYE, BUT WE SHALL BE TAKING THIS ONE WITH US.” She (they?) continued.

“Not without payin’ fer ‘im, you ain’t!” The slaver replied, “Pony’s gotta make a livin’! I’ve got foals t’ feed!” He winked, and that’s when things got…crazy.

With their shields down, it would have been the perfect time to attack them, and that’s just what one of the slavers tried to do, the wink apparently having been a signal. I say tried, because while one could assume this slaver fired his weapon at one of their superpowered escort, he ended up shooting the buck chained next to me. Accident or no, the Goddess’ children were not happy. There was a cry of “HOW DARE YOU?”, and next thing we knew, there were bullets and spells flying everywhere. The alicorns’ shields were up, although this did not dissuade the slavers from trying to murder them with bullets. A few tried knives as well, but they were killed quickly. I flinched as a rogue spell hit the chains connecting me to the twins, dissolving the links as though they were made of butter. I looked up – nopony had noticed, or they were too busy with each other to care. I turned to run, only to fall flat on my face; while I wasn’t chained to the unicorn twins anymore, the chains still on my hooves didn’t provide much room for movement.

“Hey, hey you!” a high-pitched voice called. I turned, and was faced by my fellow captives. “Get these rings off our horns and we can help you!” The colt said, with his sister nodding enthusiastically. I looked behind me, and, believing that I still had some time before my escape was noticed, concluded I could at least help these two. After all, it’s not like I’d get very far in my current condition, right? I walked as fast as I could to them, and examined the rings. I didn’t know what they were or what they were for, but they didn’t look too terrible complicated. I was still careful, though, as I first removed the colt’s, then the filly’s ring. They came off easily enough, and when they were, the twins smiled. They touched their horns to their chains, which promptly disappeared. I blinked in surprise, as they then touched their horns to my own manacles, which also disappeared without a trace. “Seeya!” the twins said in unison, before touching their horntips together. They, too, promptly disappeared, leaving me alone in the middle of a firefight between some poorly-equipped slavers and the self-proclaimed children of the Goddess.

Well, it wasn’t much of a firefight now. By the time the twins had disappeared and I’d turned around, the slavers had either died or ran, and only the alicorns remained. They were all unhurt, of course; those shields were nothing to laugh at. All three looked at me as they brought their shields down, the threat obviously having passed – even if I had been considered anything of a threat, they must have figured the three of them versus the one of me would be a hilariously one-sided fight. They would be completely right in believing this, but it wasn’t just me.

The force of the explosion knocked me right off my hooves, leaving me coughing on the ground a solid ten feet away. Through the ringing in my ears, I began to hear voices. Softly at first, but becoming more and more clear:

“FORE!”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

“I think I don’t care.”

“You’re supposed to say it before you do it.”

“Then they’d know we were here, and then we’d be dead. I dunno about you, but I sure as shit don’t have a cock and hang around Manehattan killing alicorns. And, once again, I
don’t care.”

“Well you could have killed him! Then where would we be?”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. The voices were oddly mechanical, as if spoken through a filter. The second one even sounded vaguely familiar…could it be? I groaned, slowly getting myself up as I heard what could only be the sound of armored ponies approaching. “Close Call?” I heard one of them call out, “Or is it still ‘No Balls’?”

I blinked, having to squint to make them out. Although I had once again lost my glasses, I could clearly tell even at this distance that my saviors were Steel Rangers – armored remnants of the Equestrian Army. And, if I was hearing the one correctly, one of them was a Ranger I’d met before. “Knight Honey Heart?” I replied. We were face to face now, but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to distinguish one Ranger from another while they were in armor. This one did have the two high-caliber laser rifle battle saddle that Knight Heart had possessed the last time I saw her, although a group of technology hoarders most likely had more than one pony with beam rifles. I didn’t recognize the other one, though: she was huge, larger than both me and the other Ranger, almost as large as one of the alicorns. Mounted on her back was what could only be a mortar, and on each side of her was a gatling gun. This other ranger kept an eye out for trouble as her partner spoke directly to me.

“Yep! Although it’s Crusader now, not Knight.” She said brightly, “I thought we’d lost you after New Falmalla. Good thing we caught up with you when we did, though.” She added, looking at the entrail-filled hole where three alicorns would be.

“Good thing I was there, you mean. Those pea shooters of yours might’ve tickled them.” The other ranger snorted.
Knight-er, Crusader Heart sighed, ignoring her comrade. “We’ve been tasked with bringing you to our headquarters in the Whinnyapolis branch of the Ministry or Wartime Technology for the removal of your PipBuck-“

“Can’t you please just take me home?” I interrupted. I had thought Honey Heart to be one of the more level-headed Steel Rangers I’d met, looking more for information than technology. Granted, I’d only ever actually met two Steel Rangers, one of which was standing right in front of me, but this was the one who wasn’t supposed to care, dammit!

“Goddesses, do tribals always beg like this? Can’t we just shoot him and saw off his leg or something?” the second Ranger chimed.

“-But we’re not going to do that. Either of those things.” Crusader Heart finished, raising her voice to be heard over the two of us.

“Wait, what?” We chorused. The other Ranger knickered, as I just stood there, swearing that I must have had a concussion for a situation like this to be even remotely possible.

The other Ranger recovered first. “Our orders-“

“I know what our orders are, Knight Jack,” Honey Heart cut in, “And I am amending them. I’m getting a little tired of your insubordination. You listen to your superiors; I don’t care who your mother is. Understand?”

The other Ranger, Knight Jack, only snorted. “Yes ma’am…” she muttered, “Even though I will request – once again – that you call me by my full name.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, curious.

The mare drew herself up to her full height, placing her hoof over her chest in salute. “I am Knight Flapjack, of the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers.” She declared proudly.

“Her mother is Star Paladin Maple Sausage, the head of our chapter.” Honey Heart added, “Knight Jack – sorry, Knight Flapjack was assigned to me after my promotion to crusader.”

“I wish I’d been assigned to Paladin Gun Bunny. Now there was a true Ranger.” Flapjack muttered.

“I do too…” Honey Heart agreed, more quietly. Knight Flapjack either didn’t hear her or pretended not to, and she continued. “Back to the point; yes, I do want to get you back, but we can’t go back the way we came. We don’t have the provisions for three ponies, and the slavers’ supplies were blown up by somepony.” She looked back at her comrade, who seemed determined not to hear her.

My eyes went wide. My stuff! The slavers had taken everything but my PipBuck when they captured me! I looked around – the cart they’d been using to transport supplies lay in a smoldering heap nearby. I ran to it, hoping against hope that at least my saddlebags had…

I breathed a sigh of relief as I shifted through the debris and found a steel box. It was dented, and the lock had been destroyed in the explosion, but its contents were safe. I threw on what had become my trademark red sweater/dark blue vest combo, the bandolier of pouches, and my glasses. At least, for a second, before I saw that my glasses were in fact shattered, and now worthless. I threw them away, and grabbed my saddlebags. A quick check of my PipBuck’s inventory sorter confirmed that I had everything…minus caps.

“Everything alright?” Honey Heart asked. I nodded, grumbled out something about thieves, and she went on. “Alright, here’s the plan,” she said, “We’ll keep heading south to Manehattan. There we’ll resupply and head back. Might even be able to snag a ride from the Manehattan contingent.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have the supplies for three ponies?” I interrupted.

“Not for a trip all the way back to Whinnyapolis. We can make it to Tenpony Tower though, easy. Do you know where you are?” She asked. I shook my head. All I’d known for the past few weeks was walking; no idea where, because wondering where I was would take precious energy away from the walking. “Well, let me put it this way: if we started now, it’d be at least two weeks before we even got close to the Whinnyapolis Ruins, much less New Falmalla. If we start tomorrow, we can be in Manehattan in a day, Tenpony in two. So we’ll go to Tenpony and work from there. Questions?”

* * *

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!”
The little yellow colt’s father smiles, despite himself – he probably wanted another son. His mother just smiles, too exhausted to do much else. In her hooves lies a lime green filly, a unicorn. She’s bawling, kicking weakly at the air. “She’s a strong one!” The doctor assures them. “She really is…” The colt’s mother agrees. The little yellow colt says nothing. He has a new friend, and he doesn’t want the moment ruined by accidentally speaking Pony in front of his mother.

“Mom, can I go to the atrium with Insusurro?”

The yellow colt’s mother doesn’t even look up from the sleeping filly as she answers, “Close…”

The colt sighs. “Mater, esse et agere cum amici Insusurro?”

“Sic. Sure, go play.” She answers offhandedly, still not even looking up. This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened with either of the colt’s parents; at this point, he is certain that he could just start coming and going as he pleases, and his parents wouldn’t notice. At times he is tempted to ask for something crazy, like if he could go play in the incinerator, just to see if they are actually paying attention to him. He doesn’t, however; while he thinks that all of their attention is on his sister, he isn’t sure, and is afraid to find out. The colt is sure of one thing, though: it’s not the filly’s fault that their parents’ world revolves around her. The yellow colt loves his sister, and more than once he’s wished that their parents would just…go away, and leave the two of them be. Then he could play with her and take care of her and the both of them could do what they wanted without the fear of incurring disappointment or anger. Life, the colt is certain, would be so much easier if his parents were gone.

* * *

Honey Heart had been right about one thing: I was a long way from home. Although to me the Wasteland looked pretty much the same no matter where a pony went, as we approached the Manehattan Ruins, I began to notice some clear differences. First and foremost, it was evident that before the balefire bombs, this part of Equestria had been much, much more heavily populated, as well as more densely populated. Here there were true skyscrapers, or at least the ruins of them; the ones which still stood somewhat intact stretched so high that I was sure that if we were still on ground level, we wouldn’t be able to see the tops of them. There were more bones as well, both ancient and, distressingly enough, recent. As I looked around, I soon began to realize that prewar Whinnyapolis would’ve been considered small, even backwater; I wondered if this Hoofington I’d heard about was the same way. The biggest difference, though, wasn’t the size or density of the ruins – it was when one morning, I saw the sun rising form the east. Now, this in and of itself wasn’t strange at all; the strange part was that my compass agreed. This opened up yet another mystery for me: where before I’d thought that something in the entirety of the Wasteland prevented my compass from working properly, it was clear that this was something specific to at least the Whinnyapolis area. I tucked that thought away for the moment, deciding to focus first on getting home and dealing with the Twins…among other things.
It hadn’t taken long for us to reach the edge of the ruins. There, Honey Heart had led us to an elevated roadway, something called a “monorail”, and it was on this that we were currently traveling. The occasional sign indicated that this was called the “Celestia Line”, and that if we followed it, would eventually lead us to this Tenpony Tower Honey Heart had told us about. Speaking of, while this Knight Flapjack was (mostly) silent, refusing to speak to me (“I don’t talk to tribals”), and hardly speaking to her superior (I assumed fear of further insubordination), Crusader Honey Heart was easy to talk to. She’d gone back to the Steel Ranger headquarters after we’d parted ways at the Ministry of Morale, and after telling her own superiors what had happened, was given a promotion and a new mission: take Knight Flapjack, find me, and bring me back to them. She obviously wasn’t going to do this, for reasons she wasn’t telling me at the moment, but she’d taken the mission anyway. Apparently Rangers hardly ever traveled in pairs, and were rarely given the freedom to essentially do what they wanted; this was a perfect opportunity for Honey Heart to do what she’d wanted to do anyway, which was travel with me, Sunny, and Oya. The only issue with this was Knight Flapjack.

Knight Flapjack was the closest thing a pony could come to royalty: her mother was the great Star Paladin Maple Sausage, leader of the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers. Maple Sausage’s father, Poached Egg, had been their leader before her. Now, normally, this direct line of succession wouldn’t happen in the Steel Rangers, but since both Poached Egg and Maple Sausage had been such great Rangers, it just so happened that the both of them had been put in charge. Flapjack, as Maple Sausage’s daughter, was expected to do great things for the Steel Rangers, to follow in the hoofprints of her forbears. What she’d done so far was develop a healthy hatred for “tribals” and annoy the piss out of Crusader Honey Heart. She was also the only big enough in the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers (and probably the Rangers as a whole) large enough to mount an actual piece of artillery on her back. But her loyalty to the Rangers was absolute; while I was sure Honey Heart’s was too, she was much more willing to bend rules and disregard orders than Flapjack, and I wasn’t sure how that would affect our endeavor here.

“So are we gonna meet up with these other Rangers at Tenpony?” I asked as we walked.

Crusader Heart shrugged. “Probably not.” She answered, “Last I heard, the Manehattan Rangers were off on some fool errand for their Elder, and the Fillydelphia contingent is too busy fighting with Red Eye’s slavers to be hanging around a place like Tenpony Tower. Even if they were, they don’t know us – they’d probably take you for themselves and tell us to go crying back to Maple Sausage. So really, it’s probably better if we’re the only Steel Rangers in the place.”

“I heard Steelhooves lives around here somewhere. Do you think we’ll see him?” Flapjack chimed in.

“Probably not. I heard he’s a bit of a recluse. Probably doesn’t get out much.”

“Who?” I asked.

Honey Heart just shook her head. “Nopony to worry about. An old legend in the Steel Rangers. If he’s even real, I doubt he’s still alive. I’ve been hearing stories about him since I was a filly, and he’d supposedly been around for a while even then. So no, we’re going to go to Tenpony, load up on supplies, and head back. No field trips, no distractions – got it?” I nodded, and Knight Flapjack remained silent, which I at least always took as agreement.

* * *

As I’ve said before, I’ve never been religious, but…Goddesses.

Tenpony Tower rose from the ashes of Manehattan, a phoenix from the ashes of the world. It was a monolith both of Equestrian ingenuity and of survivability. It stood more intact than nearly every other building in the city, most likely due to some protective spell or another…or six at the same time. One of its four sides had been mostly destroyed and summarily repaired, and there was obviously evidence of fortification. Even without my glasses, I could see guardponies walk along the balconies every few levels. There was no signage; I assumed it had been destroyed in the bombing. What did remain was an embarking station built into the side of the tower, which served as the entrance to the tower. Our path led us directly beneath an archway, which in the setting sun looked absolutely stunning. It was the sign which hung underneath the arch, however, that caught my attention:

Ministry of Arcane Science
Manehattan Hub

I stopped dead in my tracks as I gazed up at the words, my mouth hanging open. “You…you never said…” I began, a question vaguely directed at my current traveling companions.

Honey Heart began to answer, but as beaten to the punch by Flapjack, who was thoroughly unimpressed. “I don’t get it.” She said simply, “Does this matter to tribals or something?”

“It matters to me!” I cried excitedly, pacing from side to side in my excitement, “My stable, Stable 81, was chartered and almost entirely funded by the Ministry of Arcane Science! And this…this isn’t just any hub: Manehattan was the biggest city in Equestria! This would’ve been their main hub, or at least the biggest one! Just think of all the information that could be gained by even peeking at their records. Oooh, I wonder if any of them survived the war – do you think they did? I bet so! This must be the largest center of learning and refinement in the Equestrian Wasteland!” Honey Heart and Flapjack had moved on without me, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t been this excited since we’d found the Declaration of War in the MoM hub back in Whinnyapolis! I turned, almost expecting Parum to be standing there, bemused, or Sunny looking annoyed, or even Oya, just looking generally confused…But then I remembered they were gone.

* * *

There had been no fire that night, as there hadn’t been for a few nights. I didn’t know much about how to make one without wood or matches, and I had neither. Whinnyapolis’ backbone may had been lumber – they cut it, sold it, built with it – and many buildings in the older parts of town had been made of wood. However, as the city expanded in the modern era and the demand for lumber nationwide grew, more and more structures were built with iron and steel. I was in one of these areas: close to the edge of the old city limits. So I sat, eating sugar bombs and ruminating.

The incident outside of New Falmalla hadn’t left my mind as it should. It hovered there, landing like a blanket over my thoughts with impunity. And with nopony else to talk to, over the past few days it had been getting harder and harder to shake it off. I was still angry; finding the Twins and ending them was still on the top of my list. It was the only thing on my list, actually. Since my sister and I had been kicked out of our stable, I…had nothing else to do. There was no reason to continue my old mission, and…well, the Twins were my only reason for anything right now.

I nodded, making an agreement to myself. I would take care of the Twins, and then see about making up with Parum, if not Sunny or Butcher. I wondered where they’d gone, especially Sunny. She’d spent most of her life running, if her drunken rants could be believed, and I wondered where she’d run to now. Considering how well she got along with other ponies, I believed it safe to assume that she was about in the same boat I was in: no real place to go and no idea how to get there.

“So you are still alive.”

I looked up, and stared at the round, floating robot in front of me. “Haven’t seen you for awhile.” I stated simply.

“I’ve…been busy.” The spritebot replied, “Actually, that’s why I’ve been looking for you, and…where are your friends?” the ‘bot swung left and right, looking for them
I barked a harsh laugh. “Friends?” I asked bitterly, “You mean the ponies who kept trying to distract me from killing those responsible for my shit life? They were too slow and I left them behind. Now, what were you going to say?”

I never would have thought a robot could look sad. The spritebot dipped, its faceplate pointed toward the ground. “I knew you weren’t the one…” it muttered.

I blinked at that. “What was that?” I asked sharply.

“There is already so much loss in this world…” Watcher answered, diverting, “For a pony to lose their friends…”

“They weren’t my friends!” I shouted, for a moment feeling like Sunny. The comparison hurt, and I flinched. Watcher just hung there for a long moment. I didn’t know if there was a in that thing or what, but I knew I at least felt watched.

“I…heard about you going back to your stable…” It asked, “What happened in there?”

To this day I don’t know why I answered this faceless voice’s question. This was maybe the fourth time I’d ever talked to it, and I knew nothing about it except that somehow Watcher got its information along the same lines as DJ PON-3. By the end of it, however, I was crying. I was crying about my mother, and I had no idea why. “And…the last thing I said…the last thing I ever said to my mom was yelling at her about how if she loved me…how if she loved me she would’ve tried harder to not get me and Parum put on trial. Then…then Decuc…this wasn’t supposed to happen!” I finished, shouting again. “All of this death, all of this…this!” I waved my hoof in front of me, indicating the wasteland as a whole, “None of this was supposed to happen!” I sobbed into my hooves, crying for my lost friends, crying for my lost family, crying for my lost world.

When I had looked up, Watcher was gone. He had been replaced with a rough-looking earth pony I’d never seen before. He leered at me as he growled, “Well lookee what we have here…”

* * *

Getting into Tenpony Tower had been only the slightest of issues: even though Honey Heart had told the guardponies her rank and business, it wasn’t until she floated a bag holding 200 caps that they would finally let us through. The security ponies allowed my companions to keep their weapons (which was good, considering I myself saw no way to remove them from their armor), so long as we left any ammunition at the door. Easy enough for me, amicable enough for Honey Heart…and absolutely out of the question for Flapjack, who threw the biggest of fits, even after Honey Heart asked, “Seriously, Jack? What do you really need a piece of artillery in a hotel for?” Still, the line had been drawn, and eventually we settled on Flapjack staying with the guard ponies outside while we went in to get supplies. According to Honey Heart, we’d be staying at least one night in Tenpony – even Steel Rangers needed sleep. Where, though, I had no idea. Ponies stared at us as we walked by, though, and even though Honey Heart seemed to know where she was going, I was anxious to escape their gaze. Almost everypony was dressed in prewar formal wear of some sort; if there could be a High Class at the end of the world, it would be these ponies. The occasional security pony, donned in MAS Security gear, walked by as well, eyeing us warily, in search of anything that could be construed as “raider activity”, which was grounds for execution in Tenpony Tower. Their uniforms, like the other ponies in the tower, were about as pristine as anything got in the Wasteland. Although they, like everypony and everything else, were still dirty, they looked as though they could actually remember their last hot shower. I’d come from desolation, only now to find myself surrounded by high-end restaurants, shops, boutiques, and hotels. The floors were all a polished marble, making the entire area seem to shine with its own internal light. The more we walked, and the more ponies I saw, the more I wanted the desolation back.

We stopped. I looked up; before us was a large, ornate desk with a terminal and a pony behind it. A sign on the desk read “Goldentail's Luxury Suites”, and Honey Heart was reaching into her saddlebags to hand the clerk a bag of caps. “We’ll be staying at least one night, maybe two. I’ll let you know tomorrow.” She was telling him.

I cocked my head. It’d already taken us two hundred caps to get inside! A place like this couldn’t be much cheaper! “Just how many caps do you have?” I asked incredulously.
Honey Heart just gave me an even look. “Enough.” She said simply. The clerk pony handed her a pair of keys, and she gave me one. “You can drop off your stuff if you want.”

“Actually, I’m gonna have a look around…” I said, turning back toward the entrance to the hotel. “For…” For my mission? What mission? To satisfy my own curiosity? “…I’m going to just stretch my legs a bit. Being chained for three weeks wasn’t fun.” Honey Heart nodded, and I went on my way.

The looks didn’t stop now that I was alone, but they did subside. Even without my armored companion, I still was just a dirty wasteland pony to these ponies. Perhaps merely a dirtier wasteland pony among cleaner wasteland ponies, but it seemed that this was a detail many of them were more than willing to overlook. What they weren’t willing to overlook, however, was my lack of caps. Apparently, “I was captured by slavers and they took my money” was a common excuse for the poorer travelers who came through; I naturally assumed “I was fleeced by the door guard” would be a close second. I got to look at all the nice clothes and food (which, upon closer inspection, revealed itself to only be normal wasteland food made to look pretty and overpriced), but left each shop and restaurant with just as much as I had entered with. I was exiting one of these shops when I overheard an…interesting bit of conversation.

“Did you hear that DJ’s broadcast yesterday?”

“Yeah, the zombie lover. I don’t even know why they let him stay here.”

I nearly tackled one of the ponies in my excitement. “What did you say?!” I demanded, “DJ Pon-3’s here?”

The business buck was not amused, nor was his date. “Yes, you didn’t know that?” he asked in an affected accent. He looked me up and down, then nodded, as if confirming something. “Figures,” he mused, “You…lower-class ponies worship him, don’t you? He’s upstairs, but he doesn’t see anypony. Look for his assistant if you want to talk to him.” They walked off, looking back on occasion to gawk/glower at me. I didn’t care – he was here, right here. The pony responsible for ostracizing me from half of Whinnyapolis (and probably half the wasteland as well), the one who, without even talking to me first, put me out as some harbinger of doom and destruction, was here. Sure, he’d also made Parum famous, but I was more concerned about the slight against me.

A quick question to one of the security ponies led me to the elevator, and a quick button press sent me on my way. As I ascended, I paced around the cramped, two-hundred-year-old elevator, muttering to myself. A part of me pleaded for civility, claiming that there was no way for the enigmatic DJ to know any better, that we could talk this out. Another, larger part of me wanted to slam him against the wall and show him just how much of a harbinger of destruction I could be. Yet another part had no idea what I should do, or what I was going to do. What if he wasn’t there? What if he was actually ten feet tall and covered in spikes and armor? What if he was surrounded constantly by a regiment of Steel Rangers?

The elevator gave a soft “ding!” as it arrived at its destination. The doors creaked open, and I stepped out into a magnificent marble foyer. Its center was dominated by a water fountain: an ancient brass alicorn, rearing up and spreading her wings as if about to take flight. She wore a necklace of sapphire which spouted fresh, clean water, seemingly from nowhere, into the pool below. I stopped and stared at it; I had heard of water talismans, I knew they were used in Stable 81, but I’d never actually seen one until now. With something so small, one could support an entire settlement, and yet here it was, being used for nothing more than decoration. A spiraling staircase wound its way around the foyer to a mezzanine, ending at a large set of double doors. Instead of taking the stairs, I walked around the fountain to the large set of double doors behind the fountain. I looked up at the sign, squinting and wishing yet again that I hadn’t lost my glasses. The sign read “Twilight Sparkle Athenaeum”, and I cocked my head, puzzled. “A library…?” I muttered. I tried the door, but it was locked, and I had no skill with which to pry it open. I looked up at the other pair of double doors, and began to make my way up the spiral staircase. With every step, I thought of all the trouble DJ PON-3 had caused me since he’d first somehow spied me leaving the stable: shunned by Harbor, avoided by traders, attacked by mercenaries and raiders…Well, the raiders weren’t really his fault, as they just sort of attacked anypony, but by the time I reached the top of the steps, I was ready to blame that damned DJ for magical radiation.

The doors at the top were identical to the one behind the fountain in all but the sign:

M.A.S. Emergency Broadcast Station
Authorized Unicorns Only

Jackpot. I tried this door, only to find it locked as well, which only threw more fuel onto my rage-fire. “Hey!” I shouted, pounding on the door, “Open up! Get out here, you son of a bitch!” I kept pounding, going so hard that my hoof started to hurt. I stopped then for a moment, and waited for another for the door to open. When nothing happened, I ceased knocking and began attacking the door, channeling all of my rage and pain into this solid wooden barrier. “DJ PON-3 IF YOU DON’T GET OUT HERE I WILL BLOW DOWN THIS DOOR, DRAG YOU OUT HERE, BEND YOU OVER THIS RAILING AND BUTTFUCK YOUR SOUL!”

“You’ll what now?” Came a voice behind me, “Who are you? What do you want?”

I wheeled around, and was surprised to see…a filly? No, not a filly, just a small mare. She was a steel grey unicorn, adorned in the same elegant (for the wasteland) dress as many mares in the tower. Her face was a mixture of anger and confusion as she looked up at me. “I’m looking for DJ PON-3, where is he?” I demanded, trying and failing to take some of the outright hostility out of my voice.

“He’s out. I’m his assistant. Now what do you want? Other than do terrible things to his soul?” The little grey pony answered tersely.

I took a breath, composing myself before I went on. If I couldn’t talk to the DJ himself, his assistant would just have to do. “I need to speak with him regarding his depiction of me in his program. It is erroneous, and it is slander; he claims to tell the truth, but he couldn’t be any further from it.” The unicorn blinked, and I added, “I’m Close Call, of Stable 81.” Nothing. “…The Egghead?” Finally, a nod and a silent “Ohhhh” of recognition.

“You’re the one who’s been causing trouble up north. You and your sister.” She explained, as if I didn’t know.

“That’s not true!” I countered, “Those Twins started it! They’re the ones who had be kicked out of my stable, they’re the ones who’ve been hunting me for months now, and I have no idea why.”

“Well, then what is the truth?” she asked. I was impressed at how little disbelief her voice betrayed. “I’ll make sure it gets to the DJ; I’m sure he’d love to hear your side of the story.”

“It’s just like I said…” I explained. The fact that she (and by extension, DJ Pon-3) was willing to at least hear me out deflated a lot of the anger I’d been holding on to – I just wanted to get it out there. “I went to my sister’s cuteceañera, and next thing I knew, I was being pushed out of my home to, well, see what I could find. Then Sunny hit me with a two by four, and then these Twins showed up…” I paused as something finally dawned on me. “I…I actually have no idea what I’m doing or why I’m doing it…” I finished quietly.

The unicorn gave me a long look. “How long are you going to be in Tenpony?” she asked.

I blinked. “At least tonight. I think we’re leaving in the morning –“

“Come back tomorrow, DJ Pon-3 might have something that could help you, but you’ll have to check your attitude at the door. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
I nodded silently, and left.

* * *

“Who’re you?” A question that’d been asked a lot today, and was starting to wear on my nerves, even if I was the one who’d just asked it.
After leaving the DJ’s lair and the surreal situation I’d encountered in there I had gone straight to the suite in which Crusader Honey Heart and I were staying. The episode had left me drained and exhausted, as if everything that had happened to me and everything I’d ever done since first stepping out into the blinding light of day had fallen at once upon my body. All I wanted to do was sleep, and maybe when I woke up none of this would have happened. Instead, I’d stepped into the suite, and was greeted by a pony I’d never seen before. A shapely, faded pink earth pony mare stood before me. Her mane was long, straight, and the deepest blue I’d ever beheld, and her cutie mark was odd as well: it was a large oak tree, with a pencil lying at its roots. I was more concerned with her eyes, though; they were a deep blue that rivaled her mane, and I as lost in them. Not so lost, however, that I wasn’t immediately put on my guard by a strange pony in my room.

“Really? Are you serious?” The mare asked, half-smiling at me. I didn’t answer, and she laughed – a nice laugh, if a little condescending. “Who else has a key to this suite?” I cocked my head to the side, still not answering. “Goddesses above, Close, it’s me! Honey Heart!”
My mouth opened in a soft “ohhh”, before I cleared my throat and apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t –“

“Didn’t know Steel Rangers could take off their armor?” She asked wryly, “Don’t worry, it’s not an uncommon thought. Don’t know why; who honestly expects a pony to wear armor all the time? I can’t even imagine how much that would suck.” She shivered, before shaking the thought from her mind. “Anyway, this’ll make it easier to go shopping. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Steel Rangers don’t tend to have that many fans, especially not in Tenpony. So what’ve you been up to?”

“I went to see DJ Pon-3.” I said, going to drop off my saddlebags at the foot of one of the two beds in the room. At the foot of the other was Honey Heart’s armor, dismantled and thrown into a pile. I probably would’ve noticed it if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with the supposed stranger in our suite. “He was out, though, I met his assistant instead. She told me that she might have something that could help, and to come back tomorrow.”

“Looks like somepony’s been up to some trouble. I’m surprised you were even able to talk to his assistant; DJ’s kind of a recluse, obviously.” Honey Heart noted offhandedly. She gathered up her saddlebags and gestured toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get some supplies. Maybe we’ll find you some new glasses too.”

* * *

“This might be rude, but how much money do you have?” I asked as we walked out of one of the many clothing stores that dotted the massive landscape that was Tenpony Tower’s shopping mall. This one had been run by a seamstress, who said she’d be able to fix up my outfit to not be so…wasteland-y. She’d been skeptical at first, until Honey Heart had deposited a large bag of caps on the counter. Between this, the hotel suite, and the gate guard, I was wondering whether or not I was traveling with a secret millionaire.

“A lot.” Honey Heart replied simply, grinning nonetheless, “Steel Rangers tend to only worry about technology, and generally take anything they want, so caps aren’t usually an issue. Thus, whatever caps we find, we sit on. My superiors gave me a ‘discretionary fund’ to cover whatever Jack and I would need while getting you.”
That reminded me of something that’d been bothering me since my rescue from the slavers. “So why aren’t you bringing me back to them?” I asked, figuring I might get an actual answer now that the aforementioned-Knight Flapjack wasn’t around.

“It’s…complicated.” She answered slowly. “Thing is, Maple Sausage doesn’t just want your PipBuck. She thinks that there’s some benefit to be had to have the Twins on our ‘side’,
if they take sides. And since it’s almost impossible to track them down, she wants you.”

“Because wherever I go, the Twins are never far behind.” I cut in, “She’s not the only one; this ‘Goddess’ has her weird alicorns looking for me for the sole purpose of luring them to her.”

“All the more reason to not give you to either of them.” Honey Heart agreed, nodding, “Thing is, I’m directly disobeying orders by not taking you to my superiors, which…is something we’ll just have to deal with later. My first priority is getting back to Whinnyapolis though. Speaking of, is there anything you need? Guns, ammo? I mean, we can’t get any actual ammo here, but didn’t the slavers take your weapons?”

“I don’t use guns.” I replied. Honey Heart looked at me with utter disbelief, so I explained. “I suck with them, I don’t like them, and I’m not strong enough for a battle saddle, and also I suck with them.” I said, “I’m just a lot better with my hooves. I let…I used to let Sunny handle the gunplay.”
She shrugged. “I could see that. What happened, anyway? Last I saw you, you had yourself quite the entourage.”
I looked away, then look back, taking a deep breath. “I…I messed up.” I explained, “After…after what happened back in 81, all I cared about was finding and killing the Twins. I turned my back on my friends…my sister…”

“Wait, your sister?” She cut in, “Why would you –“

“Because they killed my mother!” I shouted. Ponies around us stopped to look, and I tried my best not to notice. Honey Heart had stopped as well, her attention on me. “They lured me from my home, and twisted my leader’s mind to the point in which the only course of action was to kill my sister and me! They are the sole reason I’m in this hell, and I won’t rest until I have wiped them from this earth!” I sat down hard, looking at my hooves, biting back tears. It simply wasn’t proper to weep in front of so many ponies. “I thought I could do it alone…I thought I had to…And that’s why I left. A decision I’m regretting.”

Honey Heart nudged me gently with her hoof. “Come on, let’s get you home then.” She said softly. I nodded, getting myself to my hooves. The tower ponies, seeing a lack of further spectacle, resumed their business, although not without the occasional furtive glance back in our direction.
Next stop on our shopping trip was the clinic. Tenpony Tower had an excellent medical facility, but I figured that Butcher would get more out of it than I ever would have cared to. This stop was partially to barter for whatever medical supplies we could get our hooves on, but mostly to see if perhaps the Equestrian Wasteland had yet recovered the ability to make a pair of prescription eyeglasses. The clinic was run by a certain Dr. Helpinghoof, but just like DJ Pon-3, he was out at the moment, and we instead met with his assistant, Life Bloom. “Can I help you?” he asked us amiably.

“Hi, we were hoping to buy some medical supplies?” Honey Heart asked sweetly. While not necessarily a mercantile genius, she did know how to get her way around bucks. The lack of armor definitely helped.

“And…” I reminded her under my breath, resisting the urge to kick her.

“And?” She asked me, then suddenly remembered, “Oh! He needs glasses, too.”

Life Bloom smiled, and chuckled. “I’m afraid that won’t work here,” he explained, “We don’t really have any supplies to sell. You, however…” He peered at me, “If you come back tomorrow I might have something for you.”

I sighed. How many times was I going to hear that today?

* * *

“What do you mean, ‘she left’?!” Honey Heart shouted. All of the friendliness that she’d exhibited toward me today was gone; to the Tenpony security ponies she was Crusader Heart of the Whinnyapolis Steel Ranger, albeit without her armor.

The guard she was talking to shrugged. “My job’s to prevent ponies from coming in, I don’t care if they leave.” He explained, “All I know is that she was sittin’ pretty fer a spell, then she muttered somethin’ about ‘dereliction o’ duty’ and left.”

Honey Heart cursed. “She’s either going to the Manehattan contingent for help or going home. This was her plan from the start! Dammit!” She turned on her heels and stalked back inside, with me following after her, confused. After the clinic we’d decided to stop by to check on Knight Flapjack and see if she wanted or needed anything. When we arrived, however, we found that she was nowhere to be seen, and if the security ponies were to be believed, she’d been gone since shortly after we came to the tower.

“So what does this mean for us?” I asked once we were back inside.

She knickered. “It means things are moving a little faster than I’d intended. I had planned on ditching her anyway – oh don’t look at me like that, I was going to leave her here at the tower, she could’ve made her way to either the Manehattan or Fillydelphia contingents.” She explained, rolling her eyes at my shocked expression. I guess I didn’t have room to talk as it was. “Anyway, her leaving on her own could actually work out for us. If we could get back to Whinnyapolis first, I could try to spin a story on how she’s actually the one who abandoned the mission…only problem is, Maple Sausage knows of my more…liberal interpretations of our code, and Flapjack’s her daughter; if she were to tell her mom that I’d sprouted wings, raised a second sun in the sky, and declared this to be the Age of Honey Heart, Maple Sausage would be mobilizing against this new goddess before you could say ‘wait, what?’.”

I nodded, drinking it all in. “So…what’re we going to do?”

Crusader Heart opened her mouth to answer, but her stomach beat her to it. “Get something to eat, I guess.” She admitted resignedly, “I think there’s a cheese shop around here somewhere I wanted to try.”

The cheese shop was closed – owner was out – so instead we sat at one of Tenpony Tower’s numerous fine dining establishments. I was confused: when I heard fine dining, I thought of exotic cuisine, or perhaps even fresh foods. What I got was the same over-two-hundred-year-old irradiated food, only cut up into tiny portions and charged at exorbitantly higher prices. When I raised my voice to complain, I was told if I didn’t like it, I could go out into the ruins and find food. I remained silent and let Honey Heart pay for the meal, but I wasn’t happy about it. “Et hoc non habet finem…This is pointless…” I grumbled at my plate of Sugar Bombs, with its tiny portions of normal food.
“Just how many languages do you know?” Honey Heart asked, surprising me. I looked up, unable to answer for a moment; just how many languages did I know?

“Other than Pony?” I asked. Honey Heart’s expression was deadpan, so I smiled sheepishly and went on, counting them out with my Sugar Bombs, “I know Roaman, Galician, Old Griffon, Royal Canterlot Voice…I’m getting a lot better at my Cowhili since coming out here, Hisan…and at I’m at least passable in Buffalo and Loshad. So…” I counted up the Sugar Bombs, “Fluent in seven, passable in two. So you could say nine. And I can read another eight or nine on top of that.” I looked back up; Honey Heart’s mouth was agape, her eyes wide. “I told you,” I said with a chuckle, “I’m – I was Head of the Linguistics Department of Stable 81. It was my job to know languages.” It hurt a bit, realizing that the title I’d been using since first exiting the stable was for all intents and purposes null and void now. Another piece of the old me lost. I wondered, not for the first time, if there’d be any of the old me left after long.

Honey Heart closed her mouth and coughed, embarrassed. “I always wanted to learn another language,” she said, “I mean, I picked up some Roaman reading as a scribe, but only a few words here and there.”

I nodded. “It can be tough. Once I got my cutie mark, though, my entire life became learning just about every language we had access to, both modern and ancient. I’ve been engrossed in it since I was a colt.” I paused, then added as an afterthought, “I’m actually surprised I still speak pony as well as I do…”
Heart leaned to the side and down, then came back up. “What does a torch have to do with languages?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea.” I admitted, “It showed up after I translated an old text nopony had been able to crack in almost two centuries. I’d happened to be in the office for my shadowing, and saw the paper on the department head’s desk. I looked at it, and even though it was written in a completely different language, the words just…came to me, out of nowhere. The torch came in on my butt, and my fate was sealed.”

“What did it say?”

I shrugged again. “It was just an old Hisan proverb: “‘Ahthr adwk mrh wahdh fijmya anha'a، wsdyqk alf mrh. sdyq mabar mzdwj yarf almzyd hwl ma ydhr lk.’ ‘Be wary around your enemy once, and your friend a thousand times. A double crossing friend knows more about what harms you.’ It was something from Saddle Arabia that’d been confiscated by the Zebra Empire once they began expanding. I read it, got my cutie mark, and I’ve been studying ever since.” I mimicked Honey Heart, leaning over to look at her flank – er, her cutie mark. “How’d you get yours?”

She smiled and looked away, as if recalling a pleasant memory, which it sounded like it was. “There’s this little park outside the MWT hub back in Whinnyapolis,” she said, “I grew up there; my parents are Steel Rangers, just as their parents before them, and so on, stretching back to the war. Anyway, there was this park on the grounds, and before the bombs it was covered in trees. They’ve been dead for centuries now, of course, but I always liked to sit under them and draw. One day I came in from drawing, and my mom noticed my cutie mark had appeared. Simple as that.”

I was confused. “So why did you become a Steel Ranger then?” I asked.

The smile stayed on her face, but her eyes dropped, and now it was her turn to shrug. “You don’t get much of a choice when you’re born into it. Sure, I’d thought about striking out on my own, but then I’d be leaving my family and all my friends. It was also safer at headquarters than it was outside. So when I came of age, I became a scribe, and the rest is history.” She looked down at her piece of salisbury steak, and sighed. “I’m going back to the suite, I don’t think I’m that hungry.” I nodded and let her go – even a stable pony like me know when somepony wanted to be alone at this point.

* * *

I didn’t do much else of note that day. I had no caps, so I couldn’t do any more shopping. Anything else I would have done had to wait until the next day, and I was getting tired of all the sidelong looks from the tower residents. What did they have to be hoity toity about, anyway? When you came right down to it, they lived in only a somewhat-less-shitty part of the wasteland and had access to fancier clothes. I was sure if a single one of them ever had to go out into it, they’d have just enough time to wet themselves before they died. The fact that I’d been outside the stable for months and was more hardened than they were made me feel just the tiniest bit proud.

Honey Heart was sitting on her bed when I got back. In front of her was a dirty piece of paper on a clipboard, and in her mouth was a pencil. The fact that she’d found a pencil and paper blew my mind enough, but the fact that the pencil was in pristine condition shocked me even more. It took me a moment to remember that Tenpony Tower was one of the main MAS hubs; it’d been protected by the most powerful shield spells and technology when the rest of Equestria burned around it. How the pencil had survived the dirt and grime of two hundred years, however, I doubted I’d ever know.

Honey Heart looked up as I walked in. “Hey.” She greeted, smiling, “Sorry about ditching you earlier. Talking about home like that…”

“Gun Bunny was your friend, wasn’t she?” I asked, “More than just your squadmate or whatever?” She nodded. “Don’t worry about it. What’re you drawing?”
A deep red hue appeared on the faded pink mare’s face, and she quickly flipped the clipboard over. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” she said quickly, “Wow, it’s getting late, aren’t you tired? We should rest up for tomorrow.” As she spoke, she took the paper off the clipboard, dropped it into her saddlebag, and laid down facing away from me in one fluid motion. Seconds later loud, fake-sounding snores filled the air. What the hell?

* * *

The next morning Honey Heart and I made our rounds. First stop was the clothing shop, and boy was it worth every cap! The mare who ran the place had sewn up the various tears in my red sweater, and even gone as far as to add leather elbow pads and shoulder pads, and replaced the denim vest with a black leather one. “It’ll over you greater protection without restricting your movement.” She told me as I put it on. She’d cleaned it too – Tenpony must have been flush with water talismans to spare any for cleaning clothes – and even though it still held the filth of time, it was now decidedly less so. “This is great!” I declared happily as we walked to our next destination, “Good thing she didn’t try to sew armor plating in anywhere; fighting would have sucked.”

“Of course she wouldn’t have,” Honey Heart said, “She knew you were a hoof to hoof specialist. Oh, don’t look so surprised, any pony worth their stuff can tell. You’re lighter on your hooves, and more fluid with your motions, especially since last I saw you. One can tell you’ve been in a few fights.” Next on our list was Dr. Helpinghoof’s clinic. This stop was quick: Life Bloom had managed to find a pair of glasses that not only matched the visual clarification of my old pairs, but actually surpassed it! Score!

Finally, we got to what I had been waiting for: DJ Pon-3. I could hardly keep still as Honey Heart and I rode the elevator up to the atrium, only this time it was in excitement as opposed to anger. The doors opened, and we were greeted once again by his assistant, whose name I’d neglected to get on my last visit. “Oh, you brought a friend…” the grey unicorn said, as if she were surprised I had any. Honestly, considering the way I had acted to the few ponies I actually considered as friends, I was too. “Well, if you promise to be civil, I did manage to find something I think you’ll find interesting.” She beckoned us into the foyer, and had us wait there while she disappeared behind the large double doors at the back of the room. She reappeared a few moments later, levitating a holotape as she trotted toward us. “This was found when ponies first began to gather here and fortify the tower.” She explained as I took it from her gently. The holotape was labeled TOP SECRET: PRGM. Top secret? PRGM? What did that stand for? I popped it into my PipBuck, and hit play. It was a set of audio notes; I could tell, I’d taken them before back home. A voice came through my speakers: a stallion, educated by the sound of it, probably a high level researcher in the Ministry of Arcane Sciences:

“Project Gemini, Entry 4: Time is…1924 hours.
Subject Pair Seven, codenamed “Nyx”, is responding well to the latest battery of tests. Vital signs are within normal ranges, and subjects show no outward signs of plague infection. Pair Nyx, for record, are two unicorn twins, orange, no cutie marks as of yet, from Whinnyapolis. To date neither twin has shown any changes in physiology or psychology – they continue to live and play together as normal siblings do, despite continued injections of original and modified plague virus. I’ve been observing them closely, and the only change of note is the sudden onset of a teleportation talent in the both of them. I first observed this yesterday, and they have done it numerous times since then, although they cannot seem to transport themselves more than a few feet at a time. Once again, cutie marks have not yet manifested, so I cannot confirm that this will be their special – or only – talent. Continue 24-hour surveillance and notify me of any developments that may occur. Note: whoever left a fedora in their room needs to be found and terminated. Both colts launched into hysterics once they realized there was only one, and only got worse when we tried to take it away. The only option was to give them another, so now the both of them have one a damned fedora and they refuse to take them off; even if we try to take them while they’re sleeping, one of them will wake up and scream until you give it back. End of report.”

Level Up!
Perk Added: Piercing Strike – You’ve figured out how to hit a pony where it hurts, and now all unarmed attacks now negate 15 points of enemy DT!

Author's Note

Holy crap on a stick this took awhile. Trust me, dear readers, I haven't forgotten about you! Just went through some...personal things, but now I'm back! As always, I'd like to thank Kkat for creating the Equestrian Wasteland, and give a big thanks to you, my readers! See you in Chapter 12!

12: In Which Escapes are Great, and a Mystery Solved

Chapter 12: In Which Escapes are Great, and a Mystery Solved

“σπένδῃ ἐνὶ μεγάρῳ Διί τ᾽ ἄλλοισίν τε θεοῖσιν.”
“A generous heart repairs a slanderous tongue.”
- The Odyssey of Homer, Book VIII

I didn’t sleep well that night. The holotape’s words echoed in my mind, a mocking cacophony which teased me for my hubris. How dare I think that I could understand these ponies and their motives? How dare I think, even for a moment, that in a world ravaged by balefire and with such features as goddamn alicorn goddesses that these orchestrators of my misfortune would be just two normal ponies. The tape…facilities to create new holotapes, or rather, record new data onto old holotapes…I didn’t think they existed outside of PipBucks and, well, the studio at Tenpony. I mean, it could have been fabricated by DJ-P0N3’s assistant, but something told me that no, this was legitimate. The Twins as I know them have existed since before the balefire. They were 200-plus years old, and for some reason they wanted me. They wanted me, and Deduc Indagator had more than willingly attempted to give me to them. What did this mean? What did they want from me? What were they doing? I had wanted to think that their plan didn’t matter, that the only thing which mattered was finding them and stopping them in the simplest way possible – personally putting my hoof through both of their heads. Now…now I wasn’t so sure. There was something at work here. Whether it be by the Twins’ own design or if they themselves were being controlled as I seemed to be being controlled, there was something afoot, and it was something that I myself wouldn’t be able to stop by merely killing its two most prevalent players. Could they even be killed? I shuddered at the possibility. When I finally did sleep, as I said, it wasn’t well. No more was I assaulted with dreams of caves, shadows, and voices. Instead I was treated to warped memories; twisted visions of my family, my stable, and my friends. Parum, screaming as Deduc shot her. The rapport of the gunshot still ringing in my ears as my little sister gurgles at me through a torn and bloody hole in her throat in Mist Chaser’s bar. My mother and father, standing impossibly tall over me at a judge’s bench, sentencing me to a lifetime of aimless wandering for my crimes; crimes of which I have no memory or knowledge.

I awoke with a start before dawn. Honey Heart’s “discretionary fund” had been enough to afford us a room with a view, which in the Wasteland meant a window. I tried in vain to get back to sleep before giving up and choosing to wander the halls of Tenpony Tower. There weren’t many ponies out at this hour; in fact, my only company was the occasional security pony, and the odd early shopkeep. At least, I assumed they were shopkeeps – everypony here dressed so fancily there was no way to tell. As I looked up and around, no longer distracted by looking for glasses or information or just trying to keep out of everypony’s way, I thought about how this was probably the top for a lot of ponies. A life in Tenpony was easy, so long as you had caps. It was safe, it was self-sufficient, and the chances of being randomly murdered in your sleep for a scrap of two-century-old Salisbury steak were almost nonexistent. I didn’t know how bad this part of the wasteland was compared to home, but if it were even a fraction as bad…I myself would be tempted to try and make a life here. Tempted, but not swayed. I had to get back to Parum, I had to get back to Sunny and Oya and Butcher and Mist Chaser. Most of all, I had to figure out why I was forced out of my home and thrown into this chaos and put a stop to it. But first, I had to apologize. Over the course of the night and my morning walk, as well as the intervening weeks as a prisoner, the burning fire of anger that had consumed be had consolidated into a white hot star of purpose. I now knew what I had to do…even if I hadn’t figured out how to do it.

* * *

“So we’re leaving today?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And we’re going home? To Whinnyapolis?”

“Where else would we go? I dunno about you but I don’t know the first thing about getting around Manehattan.”

“Let me get this straight: We two ponies are leaving today to travel, on hoof, back to Whinnyapolis, a trip which you yourself said could take as long as a month, in hopes that we can beat Knight Flapjack in reporting to your superiors. Did I miss anything?”

“Yes: One, even if we did beat Jack, there’s no way Elder Sausage would take my word over her daughters. And two…” Honey Heart winked at me before donning her power armor helmet. I looked away to hide an unexpected rush of heat in my face. It was definitely going to be easier to travel with her in armor. “Two,” she continued, “Who said we were walking?”

I blinked. Granted, there was still much I didn’t know about the Wasteland, especially Manehattan, but I was still fairly certain that if the ability for flight or teleportation still existed I would’ve heard, well, something about it. I told Crusader Heart as much, and she surprised me further by laughing. “Right you are, Close.” She said, “But you’re thinking the wrong direction – we’re not going up, we’re going down. There’s a tramway that runs from here to every other hub on the continent, including the hub in Minneapolis. If we can find it, and it works, then we’ll be back in a day!”

“But aren’t the tunnels infested with ghouls?” I asked as we checked out and set off once again into the tower proper. My predawn excursion had brought be to a closed, locked basement door with a sign telling me this very bit of information. When I inquired of a security pony, he confirmed that the metro tunnels were, in fact, infested with the same sort of feral ghouls that had attacked Sunny and I on my first day outside. A few of them had been an issue; I hated to imagine what a horde of them could do.

The Steel Ranger Crusader nodded in agreement. “They are, but that’s just the subway. Lot fewer ponies in the MAS’ private tunnels when the bombs hit. They would’ve been protected by the same spells that protected this place. So hopefully there aren’t as many ghouls, if there’s any at all.”

“I’m hearing a lot of ‘ifs’ in this plan… How would we even get to this tram?”

“You always ask this many questions? You’re hearing a lot of ifs, but I’m not hearing any other plans. Now come on, keep up.” She began to trot, not having to weave in and out of the crowd as I had to do the day before; ponies tended to unconsciously make way for something wearing twice their weight in steel, ceramic, and magic. Down and down we moved, past the reception floor, past the lower floors. We hit the basement level, and finally were stopped by a locked door. A faded sign notified us that access to whatever was behind this portal was restricted to MAS Executive Personnel only. A passing security pony kindly let us know that we weren’t part of this hallowed group, and then kindly notified us that if we didn’t leave, we’d be executed for “raider activity”.

“What do you mean, ‘raider activity’?” I demanded, “We’re just trying to get out of here!”

“I am a Crusader with the Steel Rangers.” Honey Heart interrupted, “I need you to open this door.”

“You could’ve stolen that armor for all I know, and I wouldn’t care even if you hadn’t. Now get moving.” Sullenly, we obeyed. Honey Heart had no ammo, and I wasn’t about to start something in Tenpony. Or was I? “If I were to…distract that guard, do you think you could kick the door down?” I asked quietly.

Honey Heart looked furtively behind us, and nodded. “Excuse me? Sir?” I called back to the security pony, stepping toward him once again.
Immediately he tensed. “Look, I told you –“ he began. Before he could finish, I dashed forward, sliding myself underneath him and kicking out at his joints. Somehow the hits connected through his security barding, and he collapsed in a heap. I put my hoof in his mouth to prevent him calling out for help as Honey Heart gave the offending door a mighty buck. It didn’t budge.

“I thought you said you could kick it down!” I accused.

“I thought I could!” She countered. “It must be spelled, or reinforced, or…”

“Or we’ve got five minutes before he can move – try again!”

She took a breath, gathered herself up, and bucked again. If the door had been spelled, the spell had worn over time, and the door flew off of its hinges, crashing down the stairs that had lied behind it. “Go!” I shouted, and my companion took off downstairs. I followed after her, deftly skirting around the battered door. I heard the security pony screaming for backup behind us, and quickened my pace. The stairs went down deep, and we were descending for some time before thy finally leveled out into a small platform. It as a small concrete square, just large enough for the two of us and a small terminal. The rest of the space was dominated by a pristine monorail tramcar resting serenely upon its track. The room opened up to reveal four branching tunnels. The track the tramcar rested on must have been on a rotating dais, with the terminal deciding the destination. A soft hum hung in the air, and a sickly green glow emanated from the terminal. “But…how?” I half-whispered.

“I don’t know,” Honey Heart replied, “But can you get that terminal to work? I don’t know how much time we have before that guard and his buddies come after us!”

“I…can try.” I mumbled, trotting over and having a look. Locked. Of course. “It’s going to take me a second!” I called back to her, plugging in my PipBuck and starting to try passwords. This one was massively more difficult than the terminal I’d encountered in the Robronco office back home. It had a ten-character password – ten characters!

“Can’t you go any faster? Aren’t you the Egghead?” Crusader Heart inquired, looking nervously back up the way we’d come.
“I’m a linguist!” I shouted. Terminal tech or not, however, I managed to unlock the terminal using the most precise of methods: random guessing. The screen refreshed with a menu:

MINISTRY OF ARCANE SCIENCES SECURE EXTRACTION SYSTEM

CURRENT HUB: MANEHATTAN

PLEASE SELECT DESTINATION:

HOOFINGTON
LAS PEGASUS
WHINNYAPOLIS
TROTTINGHAM

Immediately I punched the “WHINNYAPOLIS” option. “Destination Selected.” A cool, feminine voice announced from the speakers mounted on the tram, “Destination: Whinnyapolis. Alert: unable to establish continuous connection with destination. Monorail integrity not guaranteed.” The hum grew louder as the tramcar’s motor activated, shrugging off the dust and entropy of centuries. The dais upon which it rested turned slowly to face the northernmost tunnel, and its doors hissed open. By the time the security pony and his backup had arrived at the minuscule terminal, we were already gone.

* * *

The trip was smooth, for the most part. The tunnel the monorail ran in was deep enough underground that none of the surface damage had even touched it. The errant ghoul we saw must have somehow wandered out from Tenpony, and they were dispatched easily enough. Rarely there was the occasional debris which had fallen onto the tracks, but Honey Heart’s power armor was more than enough to take care of it. I wondered if other tunnels like this existed. Did the other ministries have something like this? Or only the MAS? I could pop almost anywhere in Equestria in a matter of days! Well, almost anywhere. “You realize we can probably never go back to Tenpony Tower, right?” I asked.

“Did you really want to?”

I sighed, and shook my head. Yes, Tenpony had been, well, awesome. Yes, it had been safe and clean(ish). But the ponies who lived in it were snobby and rude, the food was overpriced, and…I couldn’t remember off the top of my head who had said it, but it was “a gilded cage”. Honey Heart did have a point, though: even if I were allowed back, there was no way it’d be a good time. I’d verbally assaulted the DJ’s assistant and threatened to physically the DJ himself, and I’d also assaulted a security pony and technically stolen high-level tech for this day and age. All that considered, Tenpony Security most likely would shoot me on sight. So no, Tenpony Tower was a no go for the rest of my natural life, as short as that may be.

We reached Whinnyapolis on the second day of our journey. The way I could tell? My Pipbuck’s compass, which had been pointing north our entire trip, suddenly pointed east. Then it pointed south. Soon enough, it was just spinning so fast the markers were blurred; even though we hadn’t actually changed direction, I had to turn off my E.F.S to prevent myself from getting motion sickness. Soon after that, we hit our first real snag.

When the cool, calm electronic voice had told us a continuous connection couldn’t be established, I figured there was just a cut wire somewhere, or that it was talking about how the MAS hub back home was a still-smoldering crater of magical radiation. Instead, I found that there was, in fact, a place where the bombs had penetrated even this deep into the earth. Muted sunlight poured in through the enormous hole in the ground, it and the tramcar’s lights illuminating a swirling mass of…something. It was a sphere about as big as a pony, and seemingly comprised of just pure magic. Zebra glyphs swirled on its “surface”, appearing for a moment or two before disappearing again.

“What…is that…?”

“A balefire bomb.” Honey Heart clarified. “It’s one of the subtypes, not meant to just explode – you can tell by the glyphs. Can’t you?”

I coughed, embarrassed. “We didn’t really study contemporaries back ho – back in Stable 81. I’ve actually never seen what goes into a balefire bomb. Or seen one before now.” It did seem odd, but it was the truth. 81’s research was almost entirely of pre-industrial revolution Roam and her lands. Any knowledge we had on balefire or how it was harnessed was what the Equestrian government knew when our stable was sealed. It was news to me that they didn’t even all explode. “If it’s not meant to explode, what’s it do?” I asked.

Crusader Heart shrugged. “Dunno, but it’s messing with my electronics something hardcore. Let’s just get out of here.” She explained, getting out of the tramcar and beginning to look for a way out of the hole. I followed, looking back at the pulsating sphere once more. Suddenly, I had an idea.

“Hey, Honey? You said this wasn’t made to explode, right?”

Honey Heart looked back at me. Although her helmet hid her expression, I could tell she was confused. “No…I don’t know what is was supposed to do. Why?”

“Could we make it explode?”

There was a moment in which my friend only stared at me. It stretched to the point I though she hadn’t heard me. “I said –” I began again.
“I heard you,” she replied, “I’m just trying to figure out why in Tartarus anypony would want to detonate an undetonated balefire bomb. This thing could have a blast radius of miles, we could be obliterated!”

I shook my head. “Just trust me on this. I think if we hook up some explosive to a timer or something, then we could be outside of the blast radius in time. Something tells me we’ll be alright. Please?”

Honey Heart just stared at me for another long moment before sighing, the mechanical filter unable to hide her resignation. “The tram uses a battery to power its lights. I might be able to wire it and use it as a primer, but I can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

About an hour and much tinkering later, Crusader Heart stepped back and looked at her handiwork. The large battery from the tramcar was placed as close to the balefire bomb as we dared; wires had been field-soldered to the contacts and to the focusing gem from one of her beam rifles (“I don’t have any ammo for them; we left it at Tenpony, remember?”). “Once I connect this wire here to the battery, we’ll have maybe two minutes before the gemstone is charged. Maybe. You ready to run?” I nodded. “Then here…we…go!”

I took off up one of the shallower edges of the crater, scrambling up the broken rock and concrete as fast as my hooves could carry me. I heard Honey Heart behind me, moving faster than I thought a pony in full power armor could move. Also behind me I could both hear and feel the gemstone collecting more and more power. I looked back, and almost stopped. I did stop, actually, so I could see all that was happening. The balefire bomb’s outer shell of spells was swirling faster, its glyphs appearing more and staying longer. The bomb and battery both were glowing white-hot, and I could feel the heat on my face. “I said move, idiot!” Honey Heart shouted. Before I knew it, her head was underneath my midsection, and I was being lifted bodily into the air, before landing harshly on the ground at the lip of the crater. She came up immediately after, and kneeled down in front of me. Before I could ask why, the world exploded. The ground rumbled and buckled beneath me, and a wave of light and heat assaulted us. After a few long seconds things calmed down, and both Honey and I stood up. “So this was constructive why?” she asked, her helmet just as unable to filter her irritation as it had been her earlier confusion.

I turned my E.F.S. back on, and nodded, grinning from ear to damaged ear. “Do you have a compass? Like, in your helmet?” I asked.
“Yeah, but we never use it, there’s no –”

“Turn it on.”

She was still for a moment, then, “What? How…”

“That bomb was the reason.” I explained, “It was the reason compasses never worked in Whinnyapolis.” I grinned again as I turned north, and my compass did the same. East, same story. South, once again, my own compass pointed south. “As I looked at it, it just came to me: my compass has always been broken, but it’s never just spun around like it did when we got here, so that meant not only was there an area where the effect was stronger, but that there was a source!” I took a breath, and went on, “And the glyphs on it – somepony, or rather, some zebra, miswrote them! There were supposed to be fire, destruction, and death, right? Well they must have been in a hurry or drunk or tired or something because instead of destruction, they accidentally wrote, well, magnet. So now it’s exploded, it wasn’t half as powerful as it was supposed to be, and our compasses work!” I wasn’t sure if it was just because I’d figured it out, or if it was that I’d finally figured out something on my own and did some good with zero negative consequences. I sighed; there were probably going to be a slew of negative consequences later, because this was the Wasteland and the Wasteland hated everypony all the time no matter what.

So now that there was a point in looking at my map, I pulled it up on my PipBuck to see just where we were. I then proceeded to curse loudly; we were on the Southwest edge of the Whinnyapolis Ruins. It had only been a couple short months ago that I, along with Sunny and Oya, had almost died of both thirst and starvation. There was no food, no potable water…for some reason, that area was just straight-up dead, even more so than the rest of the world. The rest of the world at least had Salisbury steak. My map also now showed me the exact locations of places I’d been, and my actual relation to them. I saw a little hollow square marked “Mall of Equestria” a little ways west of us, and a city icon marked “New Falmalla” quite a ways northeast. I looked around. We were at the very edge of the old city, in an open area that may have been farmland before the war. To our north, the buildings and skyscrapers of Whinnyapolis proper rose to the clouded sky. To the west, what looked like suburbs, and the broken skeleton of a raised highway. South and east of us was just, well, wasteland. Open space inhabited by rocks, petrified trees, and probably all sorts of monsters and mutated creatures. “The Mall of Equestria…” I murmured to myself. Hadn’t Curator told us about that back in Harbor? He’d said it would have information on the Twins. What information could possibly hope to match or surpass what I’d found out at Tenpony, I had no idea, but after pooling resources with Crusader Heart, we found that we were in a similar situation as when she found me: not enough to get home, but enough to get where we were going. “Don’t you want to find your sister?” my friend asked.

I sighed. “I don’t know where she is.” I stated simply, “And we don’t have the supplies to go wandering. Really, we can just strike out for the MoE and hope there’s food and water when we get there.”

Heart nodded. “Makes sense. Worse comes to worse I hear enough combat drugs’ll keep you going for a while. And boy do I have a lot of those.” And so we set off west, with me hoping against hope that there wouldn’t be a repeat of, well, last time.

* * *

Two days later we were still doing well enough. We were eating sparingly, only when we had to, and doing whatever we could to conserve water. If we kept up like this, things might not have been so bad once we got to the Mall. In all actuality, it had been a strangely (but also pleasantly) quiet trip: we ran into almost no hostile wildlife, only once being forced to run until the mutated bear-thing chasing us got bored. This place really was dead, the dilapidated homes providing even more of an eerie atmosphere than they would normally inspire to an inexperienced pony unlike myself.

I did learn more about the Steel Rangers, and by extension, Honey Heart. The Steel Rangers were indeed remnants of the Ministry of Wartime Technology, as Sunny had said, and were indeed constantly on the lookout for whatever prewar tech was still in working condition; even if it wasn’t working, there was an entire branch dedicated to making it work. Those were the Scribes. Heart had been a scribe herself for the entirety of her “career”, until she’d requested a transfer to the Knights a year ago. Even as a “field Ranger” (her words, not mine), Heart still made sure to bring a pad and pencil wherever she went – her cutie mark placed her as an artist, and apparently Gun Bunny would be annoyed to no end whenever she found her drawing on missions. “Gun Bunny was like every other Ranger.” She said as we fruitlessly picked through yet another startlingly empty home, “She didn’t care about art or history or really other ponies – tribals – she only cared about our mission. Right up until the end.”

“Didn’t she die like a bitch?”

Honey Heart whirled on me, but I was just as confused as she was angry. “What? That wasn’t me!” I explained hastily, shifting into a fighting stance and looking around. My eyes fell on the speaker: a brown unicorn with a dirty blonde mane coming down from the second floor of the home. “Sunny?!” I cried, utterly baffled by what I was seeing.

“It is not just her, Close Call of Stable 81.” Another voice, this one deeper and more melodic called. I looked up as the black-and-white-striped owner of the voice followed Sunny down the stairs.

“Oya! How…what…why…?” I stammered. The appearance of my Zebra friend (who I’d thought stayed in New Falmalla’s Zebra ghetto) and my one-time kidnapper at the same time temporarily fried my synapses. Luckily, Sunny was more than willing to elaborate:
“We’re on our way to the Mall of Equestria. Word on the street is there’s a decent amount of caps to be had there, so I snagged Oya to come along! Where are you assholes heading?”

“The same.” Honey Heart responded curtly, “What makes you think that there’s caps at the mall that other scavengers haven’t taken? Or are you just that desperate for caps?”

“Aha!” Sunny declared, grinning as she pointed a hoof at the Ranger, “That’s where yer wrong! See, ponies have tried to loot it, but their compasses didn’t work, since nopony’s compasses work around here! So they just got lost in this dead zone and wandered in it until they starved to death! So nopony’s been there since the war, which means it’s full of salvage and caps!”

I recomposed myself and looked sideways at Sunny. “So then how do you plan on getting there without meeting the same fate?” I asked skeptically.

She floated a scrap of paper out of her saddlebags, which looked to be stuffed full with food. “I have a map!” She declared triumphantly, “With landmarks! No getting lost for us!”

I kept the revelation of the balefire bomb to myself for the moment, moving on to (for me) more pressing matters. “Have you…Have you seen…?” I began, afraid to finish the question. After my…outburst, Sunny had been the first to leave, with Butcher chasing after her. I didn’t know what had happened after I left, and I was afraid to find out.

“Parum Sororem?” Oya cut in, answering for me. I nodded. “She resides in the Ikhanda, the Common House, with those who do not have homes for themselves. I bring her food and water daily, for she does not seek these things on her own; she only sits, silent, either unable or unwilling to speak. Do not worry, Close Call of Stable 81; a friend takes care of her in my stead.” She didn’t eat? Didn’t drink? This wasn’t the Parum I knew, even before I left the stable.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sunny answered. At my blank look, she rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look, I told you I grew up in New Pegas, right?” I nodded. “My mom was a casino whore and my dad was a john. After I was born, I had maybe a year of ‘aw, cute’ before I was put to work. I left soon after, and’ve been running ever since.”

“Look, Sunny, I’m sorry, but –”

“I had nopony else to lean on but me. You and your sister grew up in a stable. Whether you realized it or not, y’all had the entire stable to fall back on. You had your parents.”

“My parents –”

“Are dead, No Balls. And your stable told you to not let the big-ass door hit you on your way out. So who did Parum Sororem have to rely on, to lean on then? Butcher, aka her marefriend’s mother? Mist Chaser, who she’s been ‘dating’ for less than a month? Me? No – she had you. And you screamed at her and walked out on her when she needed you most.”

I sat down hard, looking at my hooves in shame. “Is this true, Close Call of Stable 81?” Oya asked.

I nodded again. “I…I was angry. Confused. So much had happened, I…” I looked up, locking eyes with Sunny. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Sunny barked a harsh laugh. “Don’t sweat it No Balls. At least you didn’t try to fuck me before you ditched me. More than I can say for most ponies in my life. It’s really your sister you should apologize to, if she’ll listen to you.”

“So what do you wanna do?” Honey Heart asked me. “Should we head back?”

I thought about it for a moment. A part of me said that yes, we should head back. I needed to talk to Parum, I needed to apologize to her and maybe, just maybe, rebuild our relationship. Another part argued that Oya had assured me she was being taken care of, and that we should continue on. What if I died out here? What if I never got the chance to apologize? What if she died before I got there? What if there’s another war and we all die? I thought, and that sealed it. “The map said we were closer to the mall anyway. Curator told us that there would be information on the Twins at the mall…Let’s keep on.”

“Wait, what map? You have a map too?” Sunny asked, looking from me to the scrap of paper in her magical grip.
I waved my PipBuck. “Always have. It just works properly now.”

Honey Heart stepped forward, and peered at Sunny’s map. “This is covered in penises. All these landmarks are penises. How did you even manage to get this far?”

* * *

Our course decided, we bedded down for the night and caught up on what had all happened. Butcher had caught up with Sunny and convinced her to come back, only to find that I, too, had left. Sunny, with nowhere else to go, kind of settled in the city. Parum had moved into the Ikhanda in the ghetto. About a week ago Sunny had approached Oya, Butcher, and Parum with her plan for caps and salvage. Butcher had called her crazy and suicidally stupid. Parum had said nothing. Oya had agreed, however; she was doing what she could to help the Zebras, but there was only so much she could do. She was a fighter and a survivor – what was needed were doctors, engineers, architects. Those, and caps. Caps for supplies, for labor, for everything. So Sunny’s pitch had worked, and Oya had joined her, the both of them following a “map” that was a collection of li’l stallions. Sunny had gaped in disbelief when I told her about the balefire bomb, refusing to believe it at first until I showed her my map. Oya seemed intrigued about the development of the Twins. Although I couldn’t give her any more information, I did agree that is was interesting, and even if Sunny’s plan was a bust, we both felt that the Mall of Equestria was definitely an important stop on our journey for knowledge.

Dawn came, and with it our travels began again. We moved as quickly as we dared, conserving food and water the best we could – Sunny and Oya had brought quite a bit, but Honey Heart and I had brought whatever we’d had left from the trip to Tenpony, which wasn’t much. There weren’t any hostiles to bother us; eventually we just stopped searching the crumbling homes we passed. The suburbs of Whinnyapolis were truly dead. Something told me the balefire bomb we’d set off had had an effect on this as well as on compasses; now that we’d destroyed it, the area may very well come back. Who knows what would live here, but maybe sometime in the future wandering into this zone may not carry a death sentence?

Throughout the morning, the density of the neighborhoods diminished, and by midday we were in the middle of what I had come to know as the eponymous Wasteland. By evening, barren and broken ground stretched as far as the eye could see; although dotted with the occasional upthrust of rebar or wooden beam, there was nothing else but barren ground and clouded sky. The only things in abundance here (other than rocks) were bones. This must have been where most ponies heading this way had died – with no working compasses and faulty maps, they must have just wandered, lost, until dropping where they stood. If we didn’t get moving, I feared we may end up the same way…again. I shivered at the memory.

“Hey, there’s something over here!” Sunny called out to our right. We’d spaced ourselves out to increase our chances of finding, well, anything – Sunny went right, Honey Heart left, with Oya and I in the center, far enough to cover some ground, but still within shouting distance. The three of us hoofed it to where the brown unicorn stood, looking down at something in front of her.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a plant…” Oya answered, her eyes widening. I stepped past her, squinting down in the fading light, and gasped. It was a plant indeed! A small, green stem ending in two green leaves, poking out from underneath a rock. Honey Heart caught up, and together we four just…stared at it. We were in the Wasteland! Nothing grew here! There was no grass, no trees, no wheat or apples or anything; this place was dead, especially this part! Yet here, right in front of us, was…life.

“We’ve got company.” Honey’s filtered voice broke through the wonder and confusion of the moment. I booted my E.F.S. back up, and she was right – one friendly and six hostiles clustered close together. Looking to the horizon, I could just make out a group of shapes standing atop a hill.

“Get ready!” I shouted, dropping into a fighting stance. Sunny drew both of her pistols, Chandrahasa and the one she’d had when we first met. Oya readied her laser rifle, and Honey Heart…without any ammunition and not wanting to take what Oya had, just tried to look tough; I hoped the presence of a Steel Ranger would be enough to dissuade whoever was coming for us.

“Hold, ponies!” One of the figures called down. Its voice was rough and raspy, like the sound of wind blowing over dead leaves. The one green marker approached our group down the hill, moving quickly and with ease among the rocks and ruin. As it came closer, I had to stop myself from taking a step back. Honey Heart gasped, and even Oya and Sunny tensed.

It was a Timberwolf, a being I had heard of in passing, but never thought still existed. It was larger than a grown pony by at least half, and entirely composed of branches and sticks. Glowing yellow eyes flashed at me from underneath eyebrows of dried leaves. It spoke, and as it did I kept an eye on its sharped, large, thorned teeth: “You ponies trespass here trespass. Turn back now, ponies.”

“I am not a pony.” Oya said simply, the first of us to speak. Really? Thanks, Oya, we love you too.

“You travel with them, and ally yourself with them. You are Pony, as they are.” The Timberwolf rasped back, a low growl underpinning its words.

“Please,” I pleaded, “We’re just passing through; we don’t mean you any harm.”

That was the wrong thing to say. The Timberwolf bristled, his marker on my E.F.S. flashing red for a moment before settling back to green. “So has said all Pony to us!” It snarled, “You lie as they do! Leave now, while we still allow it!”

It struck me then; a flash of knowledge, much like the one that occurred when I first got my cutie mark. Suddenly, I saw this for what it really was. At least, what I thought it really was. The Timberwolf was afraid. It threatened to kill us, but really, it and its compatriots were afraid that they wouldn’t be able to. There must have been too few of them, and by the way the lead Wolf kept glancing at Honey Heart, they must not have known that she was out of ammunition, and more of a scholar than a soldier. I took a tentative step forward, and tried again. “We’re on our way to the Mall of Equestria.” I explained, “There’s been enough death already, and all we’re trying to do is prevent more.” I hoped that Sunny would keep her mouth shut – she, as always, was just in it for the caps, but nopony needed to know that right now.

Luckily enough for us, she did the opposite of what I expected her to do: Sunny holstered her pistols and even took a step back. The Timberwolf regarded us with its glowing yellow eyes, and before it could answer, Oya surprised me as well by stepping forward. “I come from a village of Zebra.” She said, “Us, and my brother and sister Zebra are still treated with the stigma of our race. In the settlement of New Falmalla, we are confined to a ghetto and unable to move about as we please. Never before have I met a pony such as Close Call of Stable 81 or his kin. I travel with these ponies because I trust them. Please, we mean you no harm.”

The Timberwolf stared at her for a long moment. Eventually, it nodded, and turned around. “Come.” It said simply.

* * *

“Entry Log: There are stories of Timberwolves stretching back to just before the war. The earliest record in Stable 81 involved future Ministry Mare Applejack and somepony named ‘Spike’. In this and all other stories they are described as fearsome, barely sentient creatures which live only to hunt and kill ponies and other animals. They certainly don’t talk, and certainly don’t have names. So when Ma’iingan told me his name as he led us through the wastes, to say that I was surprised would be an understatement. Even that surprise paled in comparison, however, to what happened when he stopped leading us.

Oasis is simply named; the Timberwolves and few Buffalo who live there do not believe in naming their settlements, believing it to be claiming for a few what belongs to all. At least, their ancestors did, and they have merely continued the tradition. Oasis is named simply for what it is, an oasis. The small green plant Oya had spied before the Timberwolves descended on us had been only an odd occurrence of what happens regularly here. To quit stalling, Oasis is a small, lush forest growing up around a crystal clear lake…in the middle of the Wasteland. Real, green, and very much alive trees and grasses and plants grow tall and healthy, and my PipBuck indicate that as well as there being no detectable radiation in the water, there is also no detectable radiation in the air. The plants here, by some miracle of science, biology, magic, or all three are actually cleaning the air here. This unique microcosm also means that for the first time in any of our lives, there is fresh fruit and vegetables to be had. Structures, what few there are, consist of simple lean-tos for the Buffalo; Timberwolves, not being, well, normal, don’t really have a need for shelter, and just sleep where they lay.

I am afraid I do not have the sort of pull here as I do in the Zebra Favela; as I have noted before, Stable 81 was commissioned to research the Zebra Empire, thus our records and histories hardly ever crossed into Equestria or her peoples. Long story short, I know maybe three words of Timberwolf and Buffalo. I simply can’t talk to them, which only feeds their distrust of us. Oya managed to placate Ma’iingan with her speech, but it wasn’t until that night that I began to realize just what sort of distrust we were dealing with here. Zebra have always been discriminated against in Equestria. It was only de facto at first – ponies shutting their doors, mean names, what have you – then Equestria went to war. Zebra were taken from their homes, sometimes their families, and placed wherever we wanted them to be. Then the megaspells hit and everyone died. All in all a bad situation.

The ’Wolves and Buffalo’s story, however, begins even sooner. When Equestria began to expand north, there was no (grudging) acceptance or deal like in Appaloosa: the ponies pushed the Buffalo to the forests, and then when they came for the forests, pushed the Timberwolves out of them. War, broken treaties, and the explosion of the Equestrian lumber industry decimated the Timberwolves and Northern Buffalo, and also the ‘Wolves’ homes and breeding grounds. When the war came, they suffered even more greatly. If it wasn’t for Oasis, I assume the Buffalo here would have died out, and these intelligent Timberwolves would have become completely extinct. So while we have been allowed to stay the night in Oasis, we are by no means welcome.

* * *

“You just had to open your mouth!”

Our intrepid group was finally resting in the shade of a large rock protruding from the earth. We had spent the better part of a few days running from the Timberwolves; it had become easier a couple nights ago, when our distance from Oasis meant we weren’t running from Buffalo and Timberwolves. As soon as we’d stopped, Honey Heart had thrown off her helmet, panting and gasping for air. Oya had just collapsed in the shade, too tired to move or say anything. I was exhausted, but anger is a hell of a stimulant. “For once, we were safe! For once, we had clean fucking water! For once, we had fresh goddesses-damned food! But for once, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut!” I shouted at the unicorn, who was sulking while I paced.

“They started –“

“I don’t care who started it! What were you thinking?! We finally get a chance to rest in the worst part of the Wasteland and you can’t shut up for a night or two?” A part of me feared that I was slipping back into the same state as I’d been in when I abandoned Parum, but at the same time I knew this wasn’t the same. I was mad, sure, but could I be blamed? They had fresh food! There was non-irradiated water to be had!
I’d been minding my own business, flicking through files on my PipBuck, when a Timberwolf and Buffalo walked by. They said something in Pony about “interlopers” – I shrugged it off, knowing full well how much they hated us and also knowing full well that we were in no case in any condition to try and fight this secluded conclave. Sunny, however, apparently felt the opposite. There was something said about how they were “just pissy because y’all couldn’t keep ahead of the industrial revolution”, and then we were running for almost three straight days. I sighed, defeated. “Let’s just rest up; we’re almost at the mall.”

“Look, Close, I’m sorry, but…really, it was only a matter of time before they found some reason to run us out of town.” Sunny commiserated, “At least we were able to fill our canteens an’ shit, right?” Yeah, she was right, I had to admit. We decided to bed there for the night, mostly confident that we’d lost at least this set of pursuers.

* * *

Two things: One, when the ponies of prewar Equestria built something, they built it to last. Two, “Mall of Equestria” wasn’t just a name they slapped on a building on a lark.

The Mall of Equestria was, in a word, massive. As we approached, an entrance several times the size of Stable 81’s door and nearly as tall as the Ministry of Morale building in downtown Whinnyapolis loomed over us. This wasn’t just a building, it was an entire campus, almost a small city on its own! Galician columns flanked either side of a colossal set of double doors, all remarkably well-preserved. One side of the complex had collapsed, but even then the entire building looked old, but intact. “Shall we?” I asked tentatively. One of the double doors was open, just enough for a pony to slip through, but before I could even take a step, Sunny sprinted ahead of me, a look of purest glee on her face. We’d made it further than almost any other pony in Whinnyapolis, and while I was both excited for the history I may uncover and fearful of, well, the history I may uncover…Sunny was just excited for the caps. She ran inside, with me, Oya, and Honey Heart on her heels. I stopped suddenly a few feet inside. “Ex virtute stellarum…” I exhaled.

The inside of the MoE was downright cavernous. Three floors of abandoned and derelict storefronts greeted us – department stores, coffee shops, all sorts of things. From what I could tell as we walked up the aisle, the mall was situated into four wings in a cross; the center of which was topped with an ornate geodesic dome. Broken escalators zigzagged around the center pavilion, in which a stage had been set up. It had been temporary; while the rest of the Mall was crumbling brick and tarnished marble, this was crafted of a sort of thin plywood. Dark blue paint peeled off of it, and painted on the large sign in white block letters:

FLU SHOTS!
WE CAN’T WIN IF WE CAN’T FIGHT!

On the left side of the sign was yet another picture of “the Zebra Menace”: gray with black stripes, large, looming, with glowing red eyes and a wicked smile. On the right side, a sick white unicorn, with red, watery eyes, a thermometer poking out of his mouth, and an ice pack on his head. He certainly wasn’t able to fight. And, on the bottom of the sign, front and center for all the action, were what could only have been the organizers of this ad-hoc immunization: two dark, orange, unicorn ponies in fedoras and round sunglasses. “Sunny…”

Sunny turned, having been checking out a storefront, and cursed loudly. Oya, per usual, said nothing, but even she couldn’t hide the look of confusion and concern that spread across her face. “Who’re those ponies?” Honey Heart asked, “Are they important?”

“They’re the ones that have been after me since I left the stable…” I explained.

“But they’re on the sign?”

“And in a centuries-old doctor’s notes.”

“And they’re not ghouls?”

“Only thing old about them are their suits.” Sunny interjected.

“We need to find them.” I declared. “We need to find them and find out just what they want.”

“How?” Sunny shot back, “And how are you gonna find them? If you haven’t noticed, nopony –“ Oya coughed, “ – no one knows how to find them. They find us. We could search the entire Wasteland until we died and probably still wouldn’t find them!”

“Oh, I doubt –“ Came a voice from behind us.

“ – You’ll have to wait that long.” Came another.

All four of us immediately whirled around. It was almost a mirror of the sign: two orange unicorns in fedoras and round sunglasses stood before us, and between them…a small, lime green filly in armored stable barding, suspended in a magical field. “Parum! Let go of my sister!” I shouted. I took a step forward, and the field flashed dangerously.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Call –“ One began.

“ – We have no intention of harming Parum.”

That fire rekindled within me, and I snarled. “Don’t give me that! You killed our mother!”

“We did not.”

“Deduc Indagator killed your mother.”

“Which itself is a lie –“

“ – seeing as she was not your mother.”

Level up!
Perk Added: Unstoppable Force – Watch that anger! Your blows now only have a 15% chance of being blocked!

Author's Note

SO. TIRED. I hope you guys enjoy this long-overdue chapter! Also check out my new Ask Blog on Tumblr, creatively named askclosecall!

Home

Close Call
By Z.I.A.T.
An Adventure Based in the World of Kkat’s Fallout: Equestria
CHAPTER 1: HOME

“Quidem, O iudices? Quid est quod in hoc tam exiguo vitae curriculo et tam brevi tantis nos in laboribus exerceamus?”
"Why then, O judges? Why, in so small and so brief a span of life allotted to us, do we exert these labors upon ourselves?"
-Marcus Tullius Cicero, Pro Archia

There’s something to be said about stagnation. That something is that stagnation sucks. There is no more rush, no more drive, no more life. Just plodding day after day, month after month, year after year, century after century. No amount of stirring renditions of famous battles on the blank, grey walls can inspire us anymore. There are no more speeches, no more rallies in the atrium. There is only the droll routine. We’re born, we live, we die. Wash, rinse, repeat.

But, I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. Once upon a time, there was this magical land known as Equestria. It was ruled by two princesses, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Then Princess Luna got all pissy, Celestia banished her or something, then Luna came back…I have no idea, it isn’t important. Either way, these two-one, then two, then-ah, fuck it, I’m rambling here. These princesses ruled Equestria for longer than anyone can remember. The sun shone every day, everything was bright and colorful and cheery, and it was just a grand old time. Then the Zebras attacked. Or the Ponies attacked the Zebra. God, this is making my head hurt. There is a point to all of this, I swear, just stick with it.

Over the course of the war, both sides advanced technologically at rates previously unimagined. Of course, most of these technologies were for the war effort-numerus unus being the megaspell. The megaspell was just that: a very powerful spell with limitless capabilities. The first one apparently brought an entire battlefield back from the dead. Well, of course, there were worries of megaspells being weaponized. That worry prompted the construction of Stables: (mostly) underground, blast-and-radiation proof shelters for which the good citizens of Equestria could protect themselves in case of the worst. Stable 81 was no different. At least, it wasn’t supposed to be. 81 was populated and sealed almost as soon as it was completed, and remained so for over two centuries, until an enterprising young pony opened the door. Told you there was a point to this! Now, “Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that pony skilled in all ways of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on end, after he turned in the cave, and realized his life was but a shadow on the wall.”

* * *

You can always tell what sort of day it’s going to be by how it begins. So when my day began with my sister landing with all the grace and civility of a mortar shell upon my face, I knew it was going to be a good one.

“Wake up, Close! Wake up wake up wake up!” the little pony shrieked, bouncing up and down on what had been my unconscious form.

“You know, Parum, that if this isn’t important, I’m likely to murder you.” I muttered groggily, opening my eyes nonetheless to greet the lime green pony with matching mane that was my little sister. She was about half my size, with twice my energy, and she was obviously quite happy about something. What it could be, I had no idea; her birthday wasn’t for another month. The clouds of my confusion were soon dissipated, however, when she turned, still smiling, to show me her flank.

“You got your cutie mark!” And lo and behold, upon my sister’s previously blank flank were two crossed spears behind a front-facing zebra head.

“Yep! I’m the first in my class!” she proudly proclaimed, still grinning from ear to ear. Her tone suddenly became stern, her eyes narrowing. “Anyhow, you’d better be there at my cuteceañera! No excuses! I don’t care how hard you’re studying! Understand?” I nodded wordlessly, eyes wide. Satisfied, she hopped off, probably to tell our parents and the rest of the stable the same thing. Demanding little filly. Of course we’d all attend, though-anything to break away from the monotony. Hardly a reason to throw parties anymore otherwise.

I rolled over, turning on my light in an effort to beat back the return of pleasant unconsciousness, looking at the one other object on my nightstand: a framed photograph of my family. In it were four ponies- my mother, Afflata, holding my then baby sister Parum Sororem; my father, Admiratus, standing next to her; and me, Close Call. Now, there are a few things you may notice here. For one, my parents and sister are varying shades of green, while I myself am mustard. That’s minor, though, compared to the next thing-they’re unicorns, and I am an Earth Pony. Stop, don’t ask me how, apparently it happens. Of course, there’s also my name. Don’t worry; I’ll get to that in a second.

“Hey mom, hey dad. I assume you’ve heard the news?” I asked, stepping into the main room of our living quarters. I assume they’d had, by the looks of obvious yet exhausted joy. My mother’s joy soon turned to scorn, however.

“Close Call, you try that again, only properly this time.”

I sighed, and began again, both my smile and a chunk of my good mood gone. “Salvete, mater et patris, audita audistis?” I said, as if reciting rote from a textbook, which I essentially was.

“Immo, vobis gratias. Yes, thank you.” She answered, nodding. “Honestly, Close, you’d think after having your cutie mark for so long, you’d greet us properly.” I just sighed and began the long walk to the showers, and then to my lab.

Stable 81 was a research stable. Our job was to explore every facet of zebra culture for the war effort. Language, government, art, customs, fighting styles, eating habits…we were supposed to be able to be so proficient, when we finally did get out of here you could throw stripes on everypony and no one would be the wiser. My role as a linguist was to excel in the language facet of zebra culture, which according to the Deduc Indagator, or Lead Researcher, meant that I was to not only be fluent in Zebra, but also speak it at every possible moment. My sister, Parum, would most likely go into combat training now that she’d earned her cutie mark. I’d tried it a few times during school, really got a hang of some of the styles, but once my torch appeared on my butt my fate had been sealed. So while my parents didn’t force me to speak it at all times, Mom at least asked that my first and last words of the day to her were in Zebra. Fair enough, I guess.

“Anything new?” I asked my colleague and close friend, Insusurro. It was an old habit; almost tradition at this point. When the stable had been sealed, it was to provide us a safe, private environment in which to work. Information was given to us via a secure radio channel, and apparently the occasional sample was even brought in. Then, around two hundred years ago, all information stopped. We have no idea why, and considering we were under the strictest orders (Royal Commands carry a bit of weight, who knew?), no one even thought to poke a head out and see what happened. So for the past two centuries, we as a stable have been pouring over the same information, looking for anything we may have missed, any hidden meanings or ideas. We had at our disposal the entirety of Equestria’s knowledge of the Zebra lands.

Equestria’s knowledge of the Zebra lands was, to be blunt, fucking massive. We hadn’t missed much.

“By Luna’s grace, Close, do you have something against Zebra?” Insusurro asked, shaking his head slowly, “I mean, aren’t we supposed to be ‘semper uallo’? ‘Always entrenched’?” He was kidding, of course. It wasn’t that we hated speaking Zebra or anything; it was mostly that when we spent all day working with it, studying it, it was nice to get a break. “Nope," He continued, "Nothing new, per usual. Though there is something here that’s been bothering me for quite some time now…” he continued, peering down his glasses at the sheet of paper in front of him.

I grabbed my own glasses from another table in the room and stepped toward him. “What’s up?”

“Nope, there just isn’t any explanation for it.” He said with a tone of finality that shocked me, covering the paper with his hooves and sighing heavily.

“What!? What is it?” I exclaimed, rushing forward. Even if it wasn’t something new, it was something different, and anything different was exciting! Perhaps a mistranslation? Ooh, this was turning out to be a good day!

“There simply is no explanation for a stable full of Zebra-obsessed ponies for have someone named Close Call.” Dick.

“Dick.” I said simply, chuckling all the same. It was certainly odd, at least for this day and age. Insusurro was right about one thing; Stable 81 was to be “semper uallo”-“always entrenched”, which, as previously mentioned, means we were to completely immerse ourselves in everything Zebra. While I’m sure the first couple generations of ponies had, well, normal names, but as time wore on, eventually everyone in the Stable had an ethnically Zebra name. Everyone, that is, except me. Someone had once told me I was the first pony in seventy-five years to not have such a moniker, couldn’t remember who though. Probably unimportant. Shrugging off the thought, I moved to my desk and began to read.

The job of a linguist was divided into two parts: learning and using. There were two of us in the stable, and as soon as someone else got their cutie mark, we’d have an apprentice. Said apprentice would spend at least four years learning the language, and then the rest of their adult life reading every scrap of literature we had. Joy. Anyhow, when a pony reached the second stage, they got a desk. Fine Equestria steel imported straight from Fillydelphia, done in a brilliantly dull grey finish. It even had drawers! The best part though, the part I had been waiting for since I began my studies…a nametag. Yep, on the front of my desk, there was a little stand, and written upon that stand, in beautiful brushed steel:

Close Call

Researcher, Linguistic and Literary Studies

Insusurro had one too, but mine was prettier, dammit. Like I’ve said, there wasn’t much to look forward to in Stable 81, so I took whatever chance at excitement I could get. Speaking of…”My sister got her cutie mark today.” I said offhandedly, queuing up my notes from the previous day on my PipBuck. The tiny, hoof-mounted computer was issued to every pony upon receipt of their cutie mark, and apparently could do a plethora of things. There was a mapping feature, for those times you got lost in an underground shelter which the only way out was the front door; an inventory sorter, for all the crap I didn’t have; E.F.S., or Eyes-Forward-Sparkle, a spell which told me when there were others around me, and whether they were friendly or not; S.A.T.S., or Stable-Tec-Assisted-Targeting-Spell, for pretty much the firing range and nothing else, a broadcaster/radio so I could listen to the news and music in the stable; and finally, a nearly infinite amount of storage space. About half of which was consumed by every note, translation, and funny email I’d ever taken, translated, and received. In short, I had a lot of information on that little hunk of metal and magic on my hoof.

“Sweet. That means a party tonight, right?” My associate replied, his tired expression lighting up almost instantly.

“Of course, why wouldn’t there be?” I asked, confused.

“Dunno, trying to make small talk. Normally you just sit there, reading silently and sometimes muttering to yourself. If I hadn’t known you since we were foals, I’d assume you were planning on widespread murder.” My friend replied nonchalantly, the ghost of a grin spreading across his features. He started again before I could argue, “Here, Special Operations requested this translation a month ago, one of the last things to come in before the Great Silence, apparently. Could you take it back to them and tell them it’s as pointless now as it was two hundred years ago? I don’t even think it’s Zebra.” He gestured toward a yellowed scrap of paper sitting atop a stack of slightly less-yellowed papers. I shrugged, taking the paper carefully in my mouth before heading out.

Special Operations’ objective was to “process and assess immediate threats or possible actions against Equestria”, or something like that. In essence, I dealt with old Zebra crap, and they dealt with new Zebra crap. Well, new when our stable was sealed, so I guess at this point, slightly less old Zebra crap? All their stuff was supposed to be super-top-secret though, even though they would call upon us with regularity to translate this or that. They’d never sent us anything we couldn’t handle though, and it was odd for Insusurro to not even ask for my input before kicking it back to them. Very odd indeed.

I stopped, setting the paper on the ground and examining it more closely. The paper was yellowed and aged, like many of the primary sources we handled, but something was…off. The note felt too crisp in my mouth, the lettering too…sharp around the edges. This had been printed recently. And the note itself, now that I took the time to read it, was an oddity in and of itself:

NNAPC RHMMN CSHCY GSTFM SBMAW FNKAV APOPH LFQYM URGGS

Insusurro was right-this was gibberish. Pointless gibberish; so pointless I copied the text to my PipBuck before moving on.
Special Operations had a much larger office than mine, and many more ponies, all working busily at…hell; I wasn’t even going to guess at what they were doing. They did their job, I did mine, and that was it. That was it for the entire stable, really. Outside of your family and immediate coworkers, there wasn’t much mingling. Sure, everyone would be getting together tonight for the cuteceañera, but even then they’d hang around in cliques of departments. It just how things were in 81. “Can we help you?” a beige mare asked curtly. “Parua: Special Operations” the steel upon her desk informed me. I cleared my throat, setting the paper upon her desk before responding, “Et mandatum est, ut tibi amicae.” I intoned. She nodded, with another curt “Thank you.” Before taking the message and bringing it further into the office. That was my cue to leave, and I took it, happy to be out of there. Those ponies creeped me out something serious.

* * *

“Clearly the largest object is the ruler; look at all the things they carry!” Says one pony.

“No, you imbecile, those are the slaves! They are forced to carry such things by the smaller ones!” Says another angrily.

I don’t know what to think. My feet are chained to the floor of a cave, my head held in place by a magic spell. I can see nothing but the shadows on the wall, it has been this way for as long as I can remember; I know no other way. I know not what creates the shadows, and I can only guess as to what they actually are.

* * *

I awoke with a start, breathing heavily. I don’t know why; that dream was fairly regular, and not really scary…weird, yes, but definitely not a nightmare. Blinking, trying the second time that day to shake off my grogginess, I took a look at the time on my PipBuck, and suddenly I was very awake. Now I knew I why I was breathing heavily: it was a subconscious reaction to the time. Parum’s cuteceañera was scheduled for 1900 hours. It was now 1920.

I was twenty minutes late to one of the biggest days in my very martially skilled sister’s life.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I panicked, stumbling away from my desk and out the door towards the atrium. She was going to kill me. She was going to dice me up, grill my remains, burn them to ash, and piss on the ashes. My parents I weren’t afraid of; the most I’d get from Mom and Dad would be disappointment. That little filly, however…I’d seen her work in the practice arena. It wouldn’t be pretty.

“I’m…here…” I gasped as I entered. I didn’t even have a chance before a lime green filly rocketed into my side, knocking me to the ground despite her small size.

“Stolide!” she shouted, repeating it over and over again punctuating each exclamation with a blow, “Stolide! Stolide! Stolide! You’re late, Close!” I put my hooves up, trying my best to defend myself. I may have been decent at hoof-to-hoof combat, but this filly was a monster!

“I’m here! I’m here though!” I explained, and this seemed to mollify her.

“I’m still mad at you.” She said smiling, however, as she climbed off of me. Looks like I’d managed to salvage a bit of the night, at least. Insusurro helped me up, wearing his on shit-eating grin. “I would have woken you, but you just looked so peaceful, I couldn’t help but leave you be.” I just shook my head, and accepted the recycled, vaguely-fruit-tasting punch he offered, looking around. The atrium could fit the entire stable if need be, and by the looks of it, nearly everyone was here. Hell, even the Lead Researcher-holy horseapples! Deduc Indagator was here! She hardly ever came out of her office, hadn’t even shown up for my own cuteceañera, and she was here! This is the first time I’d ever seen her, and…damn.

Deduc Indagator’s coat was jet black, her mane and tail a blood red. Her cutie mark was a tad confusing: it looked like a white sun rising over a tower or pedestal of some sort. She was…beautiful. The most beautiful pony I’d ever seen. Deduc Indagator wasn’t her real name; she’d shed her name upon accepting the position. I wondered what it had been. Her horn glowed as she levitated her drink to her lips, smiling and laughing with the directors of the other departments. “Your turn, hot stuff.” Insusurro whispered, and I looked at him with a mix of anger and fear. He just smiled, and nodded toward the gathering. See, while the other departments were, you know, full of ponies, it was just us two in linguistics. So we took turns being department head when it came time that one was actually needed. This was one of those times, and as my friend has just said, apparently it was my turn. The only problem was that I…didn’t really get along with people too well. Sure, there was Insusurro, Mom, Dad, and especially Parum; but everyone else was on a need-to-talk basis. I’m sure they were good ponies, but I just didn’t mingle well. I turned, was going to tell him to do it instead, but he was gone. Of course. I gulped, and stepped forward toward the small gathering.

“Uhm, e-excuse me…” I muttered, smothered by the sudden drop in conversation and their stares. Only Deduc looked at me with an expression other than confusion. She looked as though she’d been waiting for me, not just tonight, but her entire life.

“Close Call, isn’t it?” she asked, “An odd name in here. It’s…exotic. I’m glad you could join us.”

“Paenitet enim me mora, paenitet me quod tibi exspectant.” I apologized, bowing my head in greeting. When I looked back up, I couldn’t help but smile internally at their continued bafflement. Everyone in Stable 81 had a passing knowledge of Zebra. Few could speak it well. Only two of us were fluent.

“Quia non eventu. It is of no issue. And please, Pony will suit just fine for tonight. It is a special occasion, after all.” Deduc brushed it off warmly. Now it was my turn to be confused. Apparently there were three of us who could speak Zebra fluently. I probably should have expected it, her being the Lead Researcher and everything. I just cleared my throat, embarrassed, and she continued. “I believe congratulations are in order for your sister, Mr. Call. I’m sure little Parum Sororem will have much to offer us and our studies of the Zebra. Now, I have called you all here for a…discussion. Nothing formal, just wanted to shoot some ideas off of you all.” Off the books, she meant. That’s why we were standing here at my sister’s party instead of meeting in the conference room reserved for such gatherings. I couldn’t help but wonder what all this was about-Deduc had never before called a meeting of the department heads for any reason, not since…well, not since before the Great Silence. She waited for it to sink in before continuing. “As you all know, we were commissioned for the war effort; locked away in order to avoid distraction and to provide whatever insight we could to the Zebra threat. However, as you all know, we stopped receiving information two hundred years ago, but Royal Command prevents us from seeing what happened. There has been quite a bit of talk about defying this command and going outside.

“After considering the matter at length, I have decided to assemble an expedition.”

There were audible gasps among those gathered-I even choked on my drink. Going outside?! I don’t know who had been talking about it, but it certainly hadn’t been me! It’s not like I was afraid or anything…I mean, they’d put us here for a reason, right? They’d sealed the stable a month after that for a reason, right? Perhaps there was a broadcaster broken or something, maybe that’s why we hadn’t heard anything. They should be sending maintenance, not a research team. And even if we went out there, what did she think we’d find? Was the war still going on? Was the war over? Had they merely forgotten about us? Maybe the Zebras had done the unthinkable and actually destroyed the word?? Nah, that was truly impossible. Even the Zebras wouldn’t be that stupid.

I didn’t have to say anything, though; my associates were doing that for me, angrily trying to voice their own concerns as quietly as possible. Deduc silenced them with a raised hoof, smile still on her face. Such a pretty smile… “Please, ladies and gentlecolts, please. I understand your reservations; believe me, I do. But if we are to move forward with our research, one way or another, we need new information. However, perhaps I was hasty in my decision making. Perhaps if…one pony were to venture outside. He or she could assess the situation, and then come back to let us know whether the rest of us can follow.”

This seemed to sit better with the heads, but not me. I soon found out why when Deduc Indagator looked straight at me with those big grey eyes of hers. She didn’t have to say anything more, I knew I had been selected, probably before she’d even come down to the atrium that night. Hell, probably before she’d even woken up that morning. I didn’t even bother with feigned confusion. “Why me?” I asked. “Think about it, Mr. Call. You are the only one of us with an ethnically Pony name. Even if the war is over and we have won, there could still be quite a bit of…animosity. We’d be arrested as Zebra sympathizers as soon as we introduced ourselves. It can only be you.” She said, smiling and winking. A wink! Deduc Indagator, Lead Researcher of Stable 81, actually winked at me! I stammered again, looking down to hide the sudden rush of red that now adorned my cheeks. “Th-there has to be another reason. It…it just doesn’t make any sense, Lead Researcher. My name can’t be the only reason you want to send me out there.”

This definitely wasn’t winning me any favors from the other heads; while far from an air of omnipotence, there was a line when it came to how one spoke to the leader of the stable, and I had apparently crossed said line, multiple times. “Nope, that’s the only reason!” she replied brightly. “Enjoy the party, ponies. Close Call, you will report to the entrance in three days’ time.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and departed. Her smile still lingered in my mind.

* * *

I awoke three days later with heart heavy with emotion, and muscles heavy with exertion. For the past three days I had been receiving training to help me with whatever I may encounter on the outside. I found it disheartening that so much of it was centered on strength and combat training. “Hope for the best; prepare for the worst” seemed to be the dominant philosophy of my instructors. There was basic survival training, just in case, which I was mediocre with; firearm training, which I…well, let’s just say the stable can rest easy knowing we weren’t practicing around anything vital, and leave it at that; as well as hoof-to-hoof combat. Taught by my sister. I turned out to be much better at this training than the others; I just wasn’t as good as dear Parum Sororem. Ow, my sides. And legs. You could always tell what sort of a day it was going to be by how it started-if right now was any indication, today was going to be filled with pain.

I showered, and ate silently with my family. Parum was crying, Mom and Dad merely resigned. No one thought that death awaited me outside; we were sure I’d go outside, perhaps mingle a bit, and come back to let everyone know we could come out and rejoin society. I just had to keep telling myself that. I had to take my mind off of the fact that I could very well die out there-or at least try to hide these thoughts from those I loved. After breakfast, it was time to go. I made my way to the entrance, trying to contain an odd sense of excitement. Sure, there was the possibility of my imminent death, but more than that, there was the guarantee of something new! Even if nothing but a barren wasteland, it was something new! Something new to study, something new to explore! No more centuries-old texts I had poured over again and again and again! By the time I reached my destination, it took physical effort not to skip in anticipation. Nothing could hide my smile, though, as I approached the small group gathered there. Seeing me off were of course Mom, Dad, and Parum, but there were also the department heads, as well as that jet black beauty-erm, I mean, Deduc Indagator. She must have given an order for the rest of the stable to stay away; I’m sure they were nearly frothing at the mouth to even get a glimpse of the outside. I know I certainly was.

“Are you ready, Close Call?” she asked me, to which I nodded. Mom levitated my saddlebags and canteens onto my back. They were filled with about a week’s worth of preserves, as well as some money, and…ugh…ammunition for the small pistol at my side. It wasn’t anything fancy; just a small Zebra model that the Warfare Department used in their studies. I still didn’t like it though-it just felt alien to me. “You know your mission?” Deduc asked me softly.

“Yes.” I nodded, “Go outside, make contact with civilization, learn what I can about the state of Equestria, and come back.” Simple enough, right? Deduc just flashed that smile of hers again, and nodded to the mare at the door controls. “In that case, good luck, Close Call. May your mind be open, and your spirit light.” With those final words, I gave my parents and sister a hug, and stepped forward towards the massive gear which served as our primary barrier to the outside world. Switch Mare pressed a button, and an arm slowly descended from the ceiling before attaching itself to the door. There was a great screeching noise as the gear was pulled away from its home. It sounded like a scream.

There were no more words to be spoken. All eyes were on me, and my eyes were locked onto the tunnel which had been hewn out of the very earth itself. The darkness was penetrating, and for a moment, I wanted to turn around, tell them I couldn’t do it, that they’d have to send someone else. But I didn’t; no matter what Deduc Indagator said her reasoning was, no matter what unease I felt at the situation as a whole…I wanted this. I wanted this, and had wanted it for a while now. So, with a final look back and a smile, I stepped from the only home I had ever known.

I stepped into the darkness, and as my stable sealed itself behind me, I was engulfed by it. I stepped again, and stopped as something cracked underneath me. Slowly, very slowly, I reached over and flicked on my PipBuck light, and looked to the ground.

Bones.

Skeletons, all clustered around the entrance to the stable. Equine faces frozen in eternal smiles-or eternal screams. The ones nearest to the door had shattered hooves. It was almost as if they’d…almost as if they’d broken themselves trying to get in. But why? We were just a bunch of researchers, what would have been so important that these ponies had died trying to get in? Had they been running from something? So many questions, and I was barely five feet from the front door.

I turned again, facing forward once more, and flicked off my lamp. I could see a light up ahead, most likely the entrance to this tunnel. I trotted towards it, trying my best to ignore the crunching beneath my hooves. The light grew larger and larger, eventually forming a rectangular outline-a door. I looked back into the darkness, took a deep breath of that odd, dry air, adjusted my glasses, and opened the door.

Sweet Celestia and Luna save me, my fucking eyes!

“Expedition Log, entry one: Sweet Celestia, it’s bright out here!” I almost shouted, blinking a few times. Gradually my vision cleared, my eyes adjusting to the outside. My eyes, perhaps, but not my mind. Before me stretched…wasteland. A great wasteland as far as the eye could see. Sick and dying-looking…trees, they must have been, crawled out of the ground, looking like the claw of some great skeletal beast grasping for purchase before falling into the very pits of Hell itself. Like they were reaching up, up into that…whoa. That was a high ceiling. A very, very high ceiling. I sat down hard, wanting to tear my gaze from that great maw above me, but unable to look away. That morning’s breakfast came right up, finally causing me to shift my stare back to the welcome, if broken, ground. I took a few deep breaths, a drink from my canteen, and tried looking back up. Not all the way, mind you, but about halfway there. That was better. I heard a chime come from my PipBuck-the location “Stable 81” had been marked on my map. How it knew where I was, I myself neither knew nor cared. What I did care about was my new friend.

A brown unicorn mare stood in front of me, smiling. Both her coat and her mane were ragged and filthy, as if she hadn’t washed in months, at least. I couldn’t see her cutie mark, but I could see the wooden plank floating beside her. “About damn time she sent one of you out here.” She said simply, her voice rough. There was a slight whoosh of magical energy, and I was engulfed by darkness once more.

Level up!
Perk Acquired: Educated-You've either learned from your mistakes, or have entirely too much time on your hands. +3 extra points per skill level

Author's Note

Well, there it is, the very first chapter of Fallout: Equestria-Close Call! There are many people to thank, especially Kkat for creating this wonderful world in which we may explore new possibilities! I’d also like to thank Somber, No One, and everyone else who has ever written a story based in a post-apocalyptic Equestria! I may not have read all of your stories, but you are all an inspiration to me! I’d also like to thank my friends whom I showed this to beforehand for their input, and finally, I want to thank you, the reader, for, well, reading this! I understand it is far from perfect, and I am open to criticism at all times! Try to be constructive though, please! Second chapter coming soon!

Disclaimer: Anything Fallout related is owned by Bethesda Softworks, and anything My Little Pony related is owned by Hasbro. I think. Please don’t sue me.

2: In Which a Rescue is Unwelcome, and an Innocence Lost

Chapter 2: In Which a Rescue is Unwelcome, And an Innocence Lost

“Confragosa in fastigium dignitatis via est.”
"It is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness."
-Seneca the Younger, Epistulae morales ad Lucilium

What’s in a name? Pain, apparently. I, Close Call, presumably for no other reason than my name, have been selected to be the first pony in over two centuries to step outside the walls of Stable 81, in order to see what has become of the outside world and gain what experience I could from it. Not ten minutes after making that first historic step, I already had my first, solid lesson: there was nothing left. Somehow, for reasons I had yet to understand, the rich and fertile land of Equestria-possibly the rest of the world as well-has been transformed into nothing more than wasteland. My second lesson? Two-by-fours hurt. They hurt a lot.

* * *

I awoke an unknown time after my second lesson, head pounding. It was still…daylight, outside, if you could call it daylight. I kept my eyes firmly on the horizon, but could still see that the sky was overcast and gloomy. In my more immediate presence, I saw three ponies: my captor, and two others. Twins, oddly enough, dressed in matching business suits, which were ratted and torn by age, along with fedoras and round sunglasses. All three were speaking to one another in hushed tones, clearly arguing about something. “Five thousand or no deal.” My captor hissed through closed teeth. The twins merely smiled in unison, unblinking. “What will you do-“ Began one, his voice oily, quiet yet firm. “-If we don’t take him?” The other finished for him, his own voice a carbon copy. If I hadn’t seen their mouths move, I would have guessed it was the same pony speaking. Wait, take me? Take me where? No, I didn’t care if they ever came to an agreement; no one was going to take me anywhere! That is, anywhere further then I had already been taken! I pushed myself to my hooves, and-no, no I didn’t. I tried, then fell flat on my face as I realized too late that my captor had bound my hooves with rope-probably to prevent escape.

“Ah, look who’s-“ One of the twins began, smiling. “-Awake.” I looked dumbly up at the both of them, looking from them to my captor. She herself didn’t seem to share their amusement, instead opting for an expression of exasperation. Ignoring her, the suited twins stepped forward towards me, peering at me over the rims of their sunglasses. Those smiles seemed frozen on their faces as they began again in their broken speech:

“We’ve been waiting-“

“-A long time for you-“

“-Close Call. We are thrilled-“

“-To finally meet you. We-“

“Hey!” The brown unicorn mare interrupted angrily, “You two can molest him later! Right now, I want the five thousand caps I was promised! Now pay up, you creepy bastards!” Her horn glowed, and a pistol floated from a holster on her leg, pointing in our general direction. The smiles on the twins’ faces vanished, yet I noticed fear did not replace them; only irritation. They turned away from me in unison, leaving me to gnaw at the ropes binding me. I only heard bits and pieces of their argument; I was too focused on my bindings to hear anything more than tense and angry voices. The ropes tasted like shit, but if essentially eating them would get me out of here, then some bad taste I could deal with. Suddenly two shots rang out, one cutting through my bindings, the other planting itself firmly in my left foreleg. I cursed loudly with pain, curling around my wounded leg while more shots zipped by. Desperately I dug in my saddlebags for a healing potion; a bottle filled with bright purple fluid, which was supposedly able to heal most minor injuries, and definitely accelerate the healing of major ones. I could only hope it worked on bullet wounds as well as I bit off the tip and drank. My wound closed readily, though my leg still throbbed as I looked back up. The twins were gone; which left my original captor and…what in the Eternal Darkness was
that?

She was being attacked by what looked like ponies, but…weren’t! Their skin was desiccated, rotting. Entire chunks of hide were missing out of some of them-I could clearly see the ribs of one of the creatures. From their mouths came horrible screams, screams which should not-could not come from a living throat. And there were three of these monsters. Two had been dispatched by the unicorn’s pistol, and the last one had her pinned. I almost turned and ran, and mentally slapped myself for even thinking about it. Despite the ordeal, this was still a pony, and I couldn’t just stand idly by as she was torn apart by these…things. Also, it was my mission to find out what was going on out here; what better way than to ask a resident?

I didn’t even bother with the Zebra pistol at my side; with my aim, I’d probably just kill her if I hit anything at all. Instead I charged the beast, slamming into the side of it with all the strength I had. I felt bones in the thing break as we landed, and grinned in triumph. Yet even broken, it still tried to…bite me?! Rotten teeth gnashed as the beast screamed, pushing with inequine strength against me, inching closer and closer to my throat. Any and all hoof-to-hoof technique I had learned in the stable left me as I struck indiscriminately, no longer trying to wound or kill, merely trying to keep my throat intact! There was another gunshot, and the beast’s head exploded in a shower of bone, blood, and brain matter…all over my face. I blinked a couple times, and proceeded to scream.

* * *

“So they’re called ghouls, you say?”

“Yes.”

“And they’re ponies?”

“No.”

“But they were ponies?”

“Yes.”

“So what happened to them?”

“Celestia’s bleeding asshole, kid, do you ever shut up?” The mare snapped at me as we walked along a ruined road to…somewhere. After the…ghouls, I guess they were called, and my less-than-professional conduct, my captor had suggested I travel with her. By suggest, I mean she floated that pretty little 9mm pistol to my face and I just sort of followed suit. Since then, I hadn’t been able to get anything more than a “Yes” or “No”, from her. So far, I’d learned that those twins were not her friends, nor were they these…ghoul things, and ghouls used to be ponies, but weren’t anymore. My leg still throbbed from one of her bullets, which began to trouble me. I knew almost nothing about medicine, but weren’t healing potions supposed to, you know, heal? It was unsettling, to say the least. I wanted to ask where we were going, but she knew how to use weapons much better than I did-even without weapons, apparently I just couldn’t operate in a real combat situation. So I remained silent.

Luckily, I didn’t have to remain this way for long. Ahead of us loomed a wall of scrap metal and broken concrete slabs, with a gate spanning the width of the road. Armed ponies in robes patrolled the top of the wall, and there were more at the gate. I noticed some had weapons that were almost as long as they were! Others had guns almost as large mounted on saddles. All of them wore robes which covered their faces. I wondered how they could see…My PipBuck chimed, letting me know I had reached “Sukawaka”.

“Halt! State your business, travelers!” One of the robed ones near the gate, this one with what looked like two shotguns on his saddle, called out. I stopped, but my companion paid them no mind as he continued walking forward, shoving me along with her.

“Just follow my lead.” She muttered, before answering the call. “Peace, Brother. We are merely passing through as we decide our next destination.” She said as we approached the steel gate. I could see the ghost of a smirk, and nothing more, beneath the hood of the shotgun-pony.

“Ah, Sunny. Always a pleasure, Sister. Just know that we’ll have our eye on you and your…friend, here.” He mused, a glow from beneath his hood opening the gate. y companion grunted something in understanding and walked in, me limping after her.

“So…” I started.

“Not. One. Word.” She hissed back. You know, as much of a shut in as I could be back home, at least I wasn’t alone. Here, even though I had (hostile) company, it still felt as though I were travelling alone. It kinda sucked. I put the thought aside for now, taking a moment to look at this…settlement around me.

This place had been bombed. Not recently, oh no, recent would describe the retrofitting and rebuilding. No, this place still bore the scars of heavy bombing. It must have been a small town before whatever happened, well, happened. There were two roads: the one we had been walking on bisected by another road, one whose ends had long since faded. The buildings themselves were clustered around the intersection mostly, with signs designating them as “Supplies”, “Bar”, and a large cross with butterflies I assumed marked the location of…well, I wouldn’t really call it a hospital. More of a shack, really. Nonetheless, I would have to pay it a visit; the recently healed area had gone from merely painful to painful and discolored. I began to limp to said shack, but the cold steel against the back of my head told me that it would have to wait. “No.” Sunny said simply.

Alright, that was enough. “What is your problem, lady?” I demanded, whirling around to glare at my companion, pistol now at my forehead, “I saved your life, and the next thing you do is point a gun at me? The first thing you do upon meeting someone new is to whack them unconscious? What is your deal?” The pistol floated away from my face as her eyes narrowed.

“My problem?” she growled, “My problem is that I owe some very bad ponies a lot of caps. My problem is that when I had a chance to pay them back, a dumb little stable buck had to pull a stunt. A stunt that now probably has even more very bad ponies after my head! Now I’m stuck dragging you around until I figure out what to do.” Well, that certainly answered some questions, but it raised a few more.

“So I wasn’t supposed to save you from that ghoul? If I’m such a problem, why not just leave me the hell alone?” Also, what the hell was a cap? I internally shook my head; that I could figure out later. Important things now.

Sunny snorted, looking away. “Because if you’re not with me, I’m dead. If you are with me, I still have a chance. And if you had just let me die, I wouldn’t have to worry about what they’re going to do to me when they find me.” Her tone went from angry to fearful as she spoke, and my mind went from confused to even more confused. Not just with her, but with this whole damn situation! I opened my mouth, but she silenced me with a look, trotting away towards the bar. Left to my own devices, I headed to the medical shack.

* * *

The interior of the shack looked, believe it or not, worse than the outside. Errant and ancient-looking papers littered the floor, sharing the space with used needles and what I hoped wasn’t dried blood in places. There were a few cushions in the waiting/reception area, one of the two rooms. I assumed the other was for-actually, after the things I’d seen today, I didn’t want to assume anything ever again. I limped up to the desk, where a blue mare, the only pony in the building that I could see, sat reading a magazine. “Uhm, excuse me, uh, Sister?” I asked.

The mare looked up with a small flutter of her…wings? “Yes, Brother?” she responded simply, while I just stood there gawking. I’d heard of pegasi, they…I couldn’t actually remember what all they did. I did know they were a major fighting force in the war, but that was about it. But to actually see one, it was amazing! This is what I came out here to learn, not get beat over the head and held hostage! .Her cutie mark was…odd, though. Not to say any cutie mark was any weirder than the next, but the cloud with a brownscale rainbow lightning bolt looked as though it had been burned into her flesh. The mare just sighed, looking down at my Stable 81 barding. “Right, stable pony. One, if you’re not in a robe, and you still have your junk, please don’t start with that ‘Brother, Sister’ crap. Two, yes, Pegasi exist, no, there aren’t many of us down here, now can I help you?”

I closed my mouth, only just realizing it was open, and coughed. “Uhm, sorry…could you take a look at my leg? I think it’s infected or something…” I said, holding up my hoof and making a mental note to ask about the whole junk thing later. Was it supposed to be swollen like that? Without a word, she grabbed my leg and started peering at it curiously.

“Butcher.” She said simply.

“Excuse me?” What? What did she mean? Was she going to have to take off my leg?

“My name, it’s Butcher.” She said with a chuckle, turning my leg this way and that.

“Oh, uh, Close Call.” I replied, “So am I gonna live?”

“Sure, looks like your run of the mill gunshot wound. I take it you didn’t remove the bullet before drinking the healing potion?” Wait, you had to do that? See? More learning! Butcher didn’t wait for me to answer; she grabbed what couldn’t have been a sterilized scalpel from her desk and, holding it in her mouth, sliced open my leg and dug out the slightly flattened bit of lead, letting it fall to the floor. She then wrapped the wound in a healing bandage, and immediately I began to feel better.

“Hey, thanks!” I said as she released my leg, giving it a few practice kicks.

“Yep. Good thing you came when you did; a few more days and that could have been bad. That’ll be thirty caps.” She said with a prim nod, looking at me expectantly. Caps? This was the third time I’d heard someone use that word concerning money-perhaps a new form of slang? “I’ve got some bits, if that’s what you mean…”

She just sighed again. “Damn, you really are right of the stable, aren’t you?” I heard the door open again before I could answer, in strolling a familiar brown unicorn.

“I’ve got him, Butcher.” Sunny said, floating out a small sack of what I assumed were caps onto my doctor’s desk.

“Ah, Sunny. Always a pleasure.” She replied, her tone implying anything but pleasure. The two glared at each other for a moment, each pair of eyes threatening bodily harm as they narrowed in unison before I interrupted. “What is that?”

There wasn’t much on Butcher’s desk, but beside the bag of currency was a small statuette. It depicted an orange earth pony mare in a cowboy hat bucking…something. From my experience, I assumed it was somepony’s face. It was her face, however, that struck me-that drew my eyes to this little, oddly clean, piece of the detritus. Not so much her face, but her smile. So far, what I had seen of the outside had been desolation, violence, and pain-oh god the pain-but this statuette, this representation of some unknown pony, seemed to radiate…innocence. It embodied a better time, a better place. A place where a pony went to the doctor because of a cold, not because of a bullet was embedded in their leg.

“That? Have it, I’ve been using it for a paperweight.” Butcher said, not taking her eyes off of her adversary. I stepped around the desk, peering at the little orange pony. On the base were the words “Be Strong”. Looking at this little pony, I felt I could be strong. Smiling inwardly, I carefully grabbed the statuette and placed it in my saddlebag.

“Is that all?” Sunny asked flatly, she too not taking her eyes off of the good doctor. It took a second for me to realize she was, in fact, talking to me. I nodded mutely, not wanting to say anything that may kick off hostilities. Or rather, more hostilities.

* * *

“What happened?” I asked, looking up at my temporary roommate. There was an empty house toward the edge of town that was used for travelers in which we’d taken up residence in for the night. There were mattresses that look as though they’d been made around the time Stable 81 closed, but it was certainly better than the floor. Since Butcher’s office, Sunny had just been lying there, staring into space, while I took a closer look at my newfound friend. I was now able to notice the three apples on her flank, and her deep green eyes-only a shade darker than my own. For some reason, it only enhanced the feeling I’d gotten earlier-the one of innocence, of light, amongst a dark world. At the same time, however, one could only stare at a tiny orange pony for so long before I began to go insane.

My unicorn friend-okay, violent acquaintance-looked up at me, raising her eyebrows. “Long story. We don’t like each other.”

“No, I mean out here. We were always taught in the stable that Equestria was this magical, colorful…living place. Then I come out here, and I have just enough time to admire the craters and dead trees before you hit me over the head with a stick.”

Her eyes widened, the expression on her face switching from the cynical pissiness I’d seen in my short time with her to almost genuine concern, like one would look at a foal that still wet the bed even after receiving their cutie mark. “Seriously?” she asked, “What the hell did they teach you? I mean, I’ve met stable ponies before, but…” she blinked a few times before asking, “Why do you think your stable was sealed in the first place?” Wait, other stables? The others had been used?

“We’re a research stable. 81 was sealed during the war so we’d have a safe, stable environment to work in. No pun intended. Why? What happened?”

Sunny just looked at me, trying to discern if I was actually being serious, before sighing. “So you don’t know about the war?” I shook my head. I knew about a war, sure, but not what had come of it. Where was she going with this? “Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, “We destroyed everything. Zebras launched their megaspells, we launched ours, and the rest is history.”

I was speechless. Destroyed, really? There was no more Equestria? No more ministries, no more princesses, no more…anything? Was that why we’d stopped receiving information and specimens? Is that why Stable 81 had been sealed? I mean, that was the primary purpose of the stables, wasn’t it? To protect pony populations in the case of megaspell attacks? But there would be something in our records of a megaspell attack sealing the stable, but none of us knew about this. It certainly explained the destruction, the unwashedness and general grunge of everything around me. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. Well I had been sent out here to find out what had happened, and that’s what I was going to do. Not for just to Equestria, though-also what had happened to me. Sunny had been waiting for me at the stable entrance; somepony wanted something from either me or my stable, and I was going to find out what and why. “You’re not going to cry, are you?” Came that cynical tone, causing me to open my eyes and look back up at her. There was no sadness in my eyes-only conviction. I was going to complete my mission, go back to 81, and have a long discussion with our beautiful Deduc Indagator. “Look, you seem like a decent pony, but like I said: I’ve got debts to pay and you’re my ticket to Tenpony. Nothing personal, just…business.” Sunny continued. Wait, so even after…?

“Didn’t those ponies try to kill you? Like, sic ghouls or whatever on you? What makes you think that they won’t just try again?” I asked incredulously. Was she actually being serious? Those ponies clearly meant to renege on their deal, and I guessed they would again.

“Don’t worry about it. Just think of it this way: you want answers, I need caps, you can’t fight for shit, and if I don’t have you with me when we get to Whinnyapolis, we’re both dead anyway.” What choice did I have?

* * *

So a few lessons I learned from Sunny that night: One, caps-yes, bottle caps-were money. Ponies were willing to commit kidnap and murder for bottlecaps. Two, Sukawaka was an outpost for The Brotherhood and Sisterhood of Purity, an odd mix of gang and cult that believed when every pony was wholly and truly pure, the princesses would return and restore the land to its former beauty and life. Everypony else just called them the Gelders-it didn’t take me long to guess why. The males apparently went through a ritual of castration upon joining, in order to purify their thoughts and actions. They also forsook their names, choosing instead to call each other “Brother” or “Sister”. Everypony in Sukawaka was a Gelder, sans Butcher and Double Shot, the owner of the bar. The bar, of course, was for any travelers through the town-of course the Brotherhood and Sisterhood of Purity didn’t drink. Three, and most important according to Sunny, was my brief lesson on magical radiation. It was everywhere-any and all water sources that didn’t come from a talisman, any bit of food, and there were pockets of it just in the air, especially around detonation sites, even after two hundred years. Luckily, my PipBuck would be able to pick up when rad levels rose above their normal ambient levels. Four, ghouls were ponies who had been exposed to too much ambient radiation for too long, or a lot of radiation at once. Not all ghouls were like the ones we’d fought; that’s just what happened when they went feral. Also, that cloud cover wasn’t just today’s weather; it was every day’s weather. Apparently I could ask Butcher for details. I had tried to get some personal information about Sunny herself, but to no avail. All I got was “Don’t ask”, “Don’t worry about it”, and finally, “Shut the fuck up, kid!”-before lying her head down and at least pretending to fall asleep. Nonetheless, I’d recorded the conversation to my PipBuck; the beginning of a study on postwar culture?

Now it was a new day, day two of Stable 81’s Great Research Expedition. Sunny and I were in the shack that had been marked “Supply” to trade in my barding for something less ubiquitous with “easy target: please come rob me and rape my tender virgin asshole before murdering me”. Her words, not mine. The Equestrian Wasteland, though primarily using caps, also appeared to use a barter system. I traded my bits (which were worthless to anyone but collectors), my pistol (which was worthless to me), and my ammunition (which was worthless without my pistol-Sunny’s used a different kind or something) for what I thought was a decent chunk of change. Nowhere near the five thousand Sunny needed, but enough to get me some light barding, nothing too fancy or heavy. A red sweater with a dark blue vest felt much more comfortable than whatever they’d made stable barding from. It even came with a bandolier! With pouches! I wasn’t much of an archeologist, but I’m sure a few samples from out here would certainly turn heads back home! I also picked up a pair of sunglasses-even with the cloud cover, it was much brighter out here than in my stable. These items, plus a few healing potions and bullets for Sunny’s gun and we were on our way. I didn’t know anything but bartering, but something told me we’d gotten hosed. Perhaps the way Sunny and the shopkeep’s eyes narrowed at each other at the same time, combined with the “Sunny. Always a pleasure, Sister.” What had she done to these ponies? What was she going to do to me?

* * *

“Whoa, easy there.” Whispered Sunny, stopping me with a hoof and a nod ahead. We were on our way to the Whinnyapolis Ruins, supposedly making a stop somewhere to deliver a message to a Gelder-I wasn’t keen on the details, I was too busy thinking of what I could put into all of these pockets-where she hoped to essentially trade me for her life, and where I hoped to get some answers…and hopefully not be handed over like an unwanted package in the process. So far we’d encountered a few wasteland creatures; a winged, extremely malformed insect-thing Sunny called a bloatsprite, as well as overly large cockroaches-both of which were easily dispatched. While technically not a part of my mission, I took a note on my PipBuck about what effect radiation appeared to have on native Equestrian wildlife; if the rest of 81 followed me outside, they would need this information. Now we were on a ledge, looking down at a small town that looked largely abandoned, aside from the usual bombed-out look prevalent out here. My PipBuck let me know that we’d reached “Falmalla”. “Come on, we’re going to go around it. Make sure you stay quiet.” Sunny continued in hushed tones.

My smile was one clearly recognized in Stable 81: it was the smile that appeared when I was going to do something…memorable. “Sorry, there’s something to be learned here, and I don’t plan on missing one iota of info while I’m out here.” I apologized, ignoring her curses as I slid down the hill and began to trot towards the ruins.

“Stop! Stop and we’ll kill you!” Came a shout from one of the homes. Wait, don’t they mean, ‘stop or we’ll'-shit, this was a mistake! Gunfire raked across the open ground as I ran for cover, more shouts and laughter accompanying the deathly rattle. I vaguely heard Sunny fire a few shots back, however I was too busy diving through the shattered window of what looked like a school to help. This turned out to be bad idea number two, as I was immediately tackled from the side upon landing, a dirty pink pony trying to beat me to death with her bare hooves!

“Mmmm! We’re gonna have fun with you!” She giggled as we struggled. You know, for a malnourished wasteland pony, she was strong! In the corner of my eye, I saw another bloody, ragged-looking pony wielding a sledgehammer in his mouth come charging in, swinging wildly. With the strength that came with the fear of a very possible death I shoved the pink mare off of me, using the momentum to roll away before my face made friends with the end of that hammer! The hammer pony recovered nearly as quickly as I did, swinging again wildly just as I got to my feet. Old desks clattered as I danced backwards, trying desperately to keep out of range of that steel head, trying to think of what to do next. Meanwhile, the pink mare was back on her hooves and charging me, either unaware or uncaring of her friends’ own attacks. The sledgehammer connected with a sickening crunch of bone as the mare’s skull caved in, and she fell to the ground in a twitching heap. I didn’t have time to contemplate the first time I’d ever seen somepony die as Sledge, completely ignoring his friend, resumed his relentless attack, causing me to resume my backwards dance. Soon I would run out of room-he’d have me against a wall, and then what? My mind scrambled to remember my lessons from 81; what would Parum do?

* * *

“Never retreat!” My little sister shouts as I dance backwards, avoiding a very deadly-looking zebra spear wielded by one of Stable 81’s combat instructors. “You are always advancing! It doesn’t matter if your steps are tiny; wherever you go, you are constantly advancing, constantly moving forward! As soon as you retreat, you’re dead!”

“If I get within range, I’m dead!”

“Then get inside its range! If you get close enough, Close, then he really can’t do anything! Now do it!”

* * *

A little orange pony in my head to me to be strong, to stand up and fight for my life-

* * *

-and at the instructor’s next thrust, I-
* * *

-ducked under the weapon, simultaneously stepping forward and turning, following up with a rear hoof kick into his throat. My opponent staggered, dropping the sledgehammer as he coughed. I kept up my advance, not letting him back up as I had, either blocking or dodging his wild kicks as I firmly planted my own. I wasn’t really thinking out the attacks or evasions- I was “in the zone”, as it were. So I was not able to stop myself from rolling aside his next blow and planting both hooves into the side of his face. There was a snap, and my opponent fell to the floor. One twitch, two twitches, then stillness. My haze lifted, and I sat down hard on my rump, looking, really seeing what I had just done. With no more thought than it took me to breathe, I had taken the life of another. Not merely a ghoul, or a bloatsprite or radroach, but an actual pony. Something with a mind, a soul; something which had once dreamed dreams and schemed schemes, who had been a young colt, who maybe had a colt or filly of their own to take care of. I shook uncontrollably, vomiting up what food was in my stomach. There were more gunshots outside, and finally another pony burst into the school, panting “We’ve gotta go. I don’t know where the rest of them are, but I don’t want to be here when they get back!” I couldn’t even look at my companion; I could only stare at the pony whose life I had taken with hardly a thought.

“I-I killed him Sunny…I was only trying to defend myself, I didn’t mean to kill him!” I stammered, nearly on the verge of vomiting again when she bucked me so hard I saw stars.

“It doesn’t matter now! If we’re not out of here soon, you’ll be as dead as he is! Now let’s go!” Sunny shouted, half-dragging me out of the decrepit schoolhouse. Once outside, I could hear shouts in the distance; the rest of them, I assumed. Sunny gave me another shove, and I sucked up my shame and revulsion and ran. We both ran, ran until we were well away from Falmalla.

* * *

“Are you going to mope the rest of the way to Whinnyapolis?” Sunny pouted. We’d set up camp in a ruined gas station for the night after running and dodging potshots most of the day. I hadn’t said another word since Falmalla; no questions, no observations, not even the occasional audio log to my PipBuck. I hadn’t felt like talking, I still didn’t. I only felt like looking at my hooves and trying not to think about what had happened, which seemed to annoy my companion to no end. “So you killed somepony, big deal? No one cares; it’s the way of the wasteland. Ponies die all the time. Get over it.”

“I care!” I screamed, rising to my hooves. “I care, alright? That pony could have been somepony’s father, their brother, their friend! And I took him away from them!” I was shaking again, shaking as tears fell from my eyes. What was she not understanding? She may not care, but I did. There were ways one could defend themselves without resorting to murder.

“Do you know what would have happened if you’d spared them?” Sunny asked quietly. I just glared at her, shaking my head only in the slightest. “Either you would have died once he came to, or once his friends showed up, or you would have left him there.” She continued, “Then he would have woken up, dusted himself off, and went on to rape and kill actually innocent ponies-in either order. Those ponies we fought today were raiders-it’s what they do. They kill for the sake of killing, they rape for fun, and they do terrible things to the bodies. Just wait until you come upon a nest that they’ve inhabited for awhile. Those are ponies who have long given up being ponies…killing them is almost a mercy.”

I didn’t answer, just mumbled something about needing some air as I walked outside. It was a lot to think about…a lot I didn’t want to think about. What would Mom and Dad say? Or Parum? Insusurro? I was a murderer-no matter what those ponies did, murder was not justified. Would I someday become like them? How long before the outside contaminated not only my body, but also my soul?

“Looks like somepony needs a friend.”

I was on my hooves in seconds, looking around for intruders. “Who said that? Where are you?” I called into the darkness, neglecting my E.F.S. for a moment. When you didn’t really use these things, a pony was apt to forget about them. There were two white marks I could see: one which I assumed was Sunny in the gas station itself, and another to my left. Flicking on my PipBuck light, I shined it in the direction of my “friendly” guest. “Who are you?” I called out again. I guess the question should have been “What are you?”; in front of me was not a pony, but a…machine. What could have only been a combination of magic and engineering floated ahead of me, suspended by four thin metallic wings and magic, as well as sporting a speaker on its face. Had the voice come from here?

The little robot-thing answered my question, causing me to jump in surprise. “Well, my name’s Watcher.

“And it looks like you need a friend.”

Level up!
Perk Added: Iron Hoof-Whether you prefer stomping somepony to a red smear on the stone, or skillfully striking strategically, you now do +10% unarmed damage!

Author's Note

Chapter two: complete! Again, thank you all for reading, I do sincerely hope you enjoy my foray into the wonderful world of Fallout: Equestria! It's been a blast writing this, and I do hope to continue on until Close Call's story is over. Again, any and all comments are welcome, constructive criticism is always very much appreciated, and I will see you guys in chapter 3!

On a related note, chapter 3 may be a bit late. Brave New World-that's all I'm saying.

On another related note, I can't draw, so if anypony would like to donate some cover art for this story, I would be eternally grateful.

-Z.I.A.T.