Fallout: Equestria - Nuclear Nobodyby AkumokagetsuChaptersIt's Never ScorpionsAin't That A Kick In The Head?Lady Luck Might Be FickleAnd Now We're EvenIt's Never Scorpions0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Monster. That’s what they called the members of the Enclave, the shadowy section of the government that bubbled upward when everything went straight to nuclear hell. Monster. That’s what I called them - or, tried to call them - as the bastards slit my throat, leaving me to die in that godforsaken hellhole. Monster. That’s what they used to call me, when I ever removed the mask. But here? Out in the Mojave? They don’t see me that way, because we’re all the same. To the Enclave, to each other, to those damnable geckos that keep popping up when you least expect them. We’re all monsters in the glow of the radiation. Sometimes, radiation has a weird effect on people. Take me, for example. I grew up pretty safe from the dangers of the outside world; for the most part, anyway. At least until the Enclave extended their reach to me, of all people. And with nothing else in my life to keep me from serving beneath them, what else was I going to put my knowledge to use for? Building birdhouses in my spare time? No, I gladly accepted their offer. Could be why I was so surprised when I found out just what they were up to; guess propaganda just doesn’t match up to the truth. It’s simple, obvious things like that, the little things that always went over my head. Genius, my ass. Monster. Sometimes, it’s better to be forgotten. To be nameless, to be faceless. Sometimes, it’s better to be no one of importance, especially when the whole world wants you dead. Monster. Sometimes, when the world is filling up with heroes desperate to prove their gallantry and fervor by slaying the monsters and demons in the dark, it’s better to be unnoticed. Out here, in the Mojave? I’m nobody. Nobody at all. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 “Check!” “Saddlebags?” “Check-o!” “Homework assignment.” “Check-a-roony-doony!” Sweetie Belle chirruped, eagerly prancing back and forth in front of the door like an antsy Opal after a full meal. “Oh, very well, then.” Rarity mock-sighed, her horn alighting in a soft glow as the front door swung open, the morning sunlight pouring in. She smiled kindly, if a little sadly. “Have fun at school.” “Whee!” Sweetie’s high pitched, slightly scratchy cheer of success following her as she bounded swiftly out of Carousel Boutique, throwing a quick wave goodbye to her elder sister. The enthusiastic unicorn galloped forward as quickly as she could, the soft felt of her schoolbags pushing into her sides as she ran. Rarity had kept her preoccupied long enough, what with all the fussing over her mane and insisting on making breakfast for her first day back at school. It didn’t take long for her to reach their usual meeting place at the crossroads, and Sweetie pushed herself even faster when she saw Scootaloo and Applebloom awaiting her. She grinned manically as she came to a breathy halt, huffing and puffing to catch her breath. “Ain’t never heard a’ pacin’ yourself, have ya’?” Applebloom teased, cocking an eyebrow. “Peh-shaw.” Scootaloo interjected flippantly. “Pacing is for slowpokes! Right, Sweetie?” Sweetie Belle, however, was having difficulty breathing. Something which gave Applebloom a great deal of amusement, of course. The trio trotted at an even pace toward their ultimate destination, the staple in their lives that rang of many paper-filled days ahead. For Sweetie Belle, school wasn’t so much about spending more time with her friends as it was about learning; and, with an inquisitive mind like her own, it was a welcoming place. That didn't mean she wasn't overjoyed to see her friends, of course. It was going to be a good day. At least, it would be, without a certain other pony or two. “What’s the matter? Afraid of being la~ate, Blank Flanks?” Scootaloo’s head turned so quickly, Sweetie could have sworn she heard it snap. She wasn’t quite certain how Diamond Tiara had actually managed to convince Silver Spoon to pull the spoiled brat in a small wagon up the dirt road. However, pull, she did, and Silver Spoon’s constant toiling to tug her ‘friend’ was testament to that. “Aw, come on!” Sweetie Belle moaned in despair, her head drooping. “It’s the first day!” she spat in frustration, glaring at their regular antagonist. “Can’t you behave yourself for one day, Tiara?” The pale bubblegum-colored pony gasped in offense, a hoof flying up to her mouth. “How dare you! As if I would ever do anything-!” “Got that right,” Silver Spoon grunted, tugging on the wagon handle. “What was that?” Diamond Tiara snapped, glaring at her. “Nothing!” the straining earth pony replied instantly, refocusing her efforts on pulling Tiara. Sweetie Belle felt a pang of sympathy for the grey earth pony. At least, for a split second, before Diamond Tiara’s attention was directed at her. “Your saddlebags are ugly.” Tiara said lazily, eyes narrowing at Sweetie. However, true to her status as friend, Applebloom was quick to reply. “Ugly saddlebags.” Applebloom chuckled, noting the lack of Tiara’s own. She was probably making Silver Spoon carry them, anyway. “You’re slippin’, Tiara. Spend all summer comin’ up with that?” Diamond Tiara stood angrily in the wagon as it moved, bobbling back and forth. Before she could give her retort, however, Scootaloo quickly took up the mantle. “Don’t say things like that, Applebloom!” the merengue pegasus said jokingly. “She probably had Silver Spoon do it.” “How dare you-!” Diamond Tiara glowered, stamping a hoof. “How dare, how dare – has anypony told you that you’re very repetitive?” Sweetie Belle asked nonchalantly, doing her best to keep her face straight. Tiara let out a whistle of rage through her teeth. She stamped twice more against the wagon, silently insisting that Silver Spoon work faster. “See you ‘round, Sombra Junior!” Applebloom called tauntingly after her as they sped down the road, and the scream of frustration that bellowed back was oddly satisfying. Sweetie Belle giggled, shaking her head. There’d be no end to Diamond Tiara for the entire year; as a matter of fact, they’d probably just worsened their situation. But who cared? So long as they had each other, they were confident that they could handle anything that crossed their paths. It was this sort of youthful arrogance that Sweetie Belle came to both regret, and long for. The countless nights she spent urgently wishing to return to those innocent days, the numberless hours she spent calling her friend’s names – she’d give anything to go back to that blissful ignorance. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 It had been an average day. Sweetie Belle saw her friends, her first day back at school had gone as expected, and the sun was shining heartily. “Yeah, sorry.” Scootaloo rubbed the back of her neck guiltily, ruffling her small wings. “I can’t today. I promised R.D that I’d pick up on my reading.” “Really?” Applebloom asked skeptically, trotting mindfully alongside her feathered friend, her head full of the day’s events. “When was this?” “Scoots’d deep-fry herself if Rainbow Dash asked her to,” Sweetie grinned, sticking her tongue out. “Nu-uh!” Scootaloo’s eyebrows gathered together as she scrunched her face. “I was going to get a book on practical aerial tactics, anyhow!” “Sure ya’ were.” The young farm pony nodded, spotting her elder sister at the crossroad. It didn’t take long for Scootaloo to scurry off, further into Ponyville. “See you tomorrow, I guess?” Sweetie Belle asked hopefully, nodding to Applejack as they drew closer. “A’course!” the filly said enthusiastically. “Maybe even later today, after I help Applejack with some o’ the fritters for Big Mac’s birthday party.” “There’s a party?” Sweetie Belle stopped in her tracks, a little hurt that she hadn’t even known. Or been invited. Applebloom, however, was too busy catching up with her tired-looking orange sister to answer. They eventually left Sweetie Belle standing dejectedly and alone at the crossroads, and she let out a heavy sigh. Wish my sister would walk ME home, Sweetie thought a little bitterly, but pushed it from her mind. Rarity had a very busy schedule, and besides; she wasn’t a foal. She could walk herself home. But, still. It was a quiet walk. The soft clopping of hooves meeting the dirt road gradually faded away as Sweetie Belle lost herself in her thoughts, saddlebags shifting into a more comfortable position. Then again, they might have been more comfortable if Ms. Cheerilee had avoided giving them homework on the first day back at school. Perhaps it was because she was so caught up in her thoughts that, at first, she didn’t notice the peculiar glowing blue ring of light. She noticed that her hooves had changed color first; or at least, they appeared to have done so, in the dim glow of the rotating circle of light, hanging dully in the air above. Her mouth hanged open in surprise and shock, and for a moment, she felt as if her mind had simply stopped processing information. It was just something that didn’t happen on an average day, after all. Neither was the sudden appearance of a freakishly tall, steel-clad abomination that dropped out of the ring. Sweetie Belle barely had time to register the information, let alone scream when it dragged her through the ring of light. Within a couple of seconds, the rippling portal was gone, leaving the dirt path devoid of pony life. The only thing that indicated anypony had ever been there at all were a single set of tracks, cut off sharply in the middle of the road by a single scorch mark. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Sometimes, I forget how long I’ve been traveling. It’s easy to get lost in the Mojave, mostly because everything looks pretty much the same. There’s a lot of dirt, and a lot of sand. A lot of sand. However, over time, I’ve gradually gotten to the point where I can recognize areas pretty easily by their wildlife, the tracks and markers left previously; you know, living off the fat of the land. It’s really not as difficult as it sounds, so long as you’re not too picky about what or when you eat. Water, though – water can be a pain in the ass to come by. I was getting a drink, one way or another. At first, I was pretty damned thrilled when I found that small pool of water, just as the sun was setting in preparation for another dark night. A nice little pond, with a little vegetation in a sandy outcropping? Yeah, doesn’t happen every day. Regardless, I welcomed the sight with open canteens. From the taste of it, the water might have even been a little radioactive. But, then again, I don’t really worry much about radiation since the whole ‘Enclave’ thing. Actually, that’s an outright lie. I worry plenty about the radiation; it’s all a matter of how badly you get irradiated that’s important. Nobody really wants to wind up a mutant. The stuff in the water was pretty weak anyway, and I hadn’t had anything to drink for a couple of days. In the middle of the desert, that’s usually a pretty bad thing. Only took me one time to figure that one out. The sad part is that it took me a single time at all. Genius, my ass. By the time I’d gotten a good drink from the water and set up a small encampment for the night, I was really looking forward to some good shut-eye. An empty little cove, with a (mostly) good water source, no Radscorpions, Radroaches, or even regular roaches for once? It sounded too good to be true. Turns out, it really was too good to be true. Lady Luck is a fickle bitch. I was maybe – maybe – five minutes into a good sleep on my worn bedroll. You know, the really comfortable kind of sleep, and you’re just on the edge of a sweet dream full of bacon and non-radioactive substances. I hate being woken up unexpectedly almost as much as I do being caught without my mask; that’s why I never take it off. Ever. It bugs me enough when I have to lift up the bottom just to eat or drink something. Not that I’m self-conscious of my looks, or anything. It’s just very, very uncomfortable to take off. Or move. Ever. Okay, maybe ten minutes. I was pretty out of it. There might have been something in that water after all. The point is, I was comfortable, dammit. I know I really shouldn’t have been, and I’ve had to learn the hard way a couple of times that a deep sleeper is likely to sleep forever. I didn’t really want to get up and investigate the screaming when it started, any more than I did the peculiar blue light basking the little cove in luminescence. On the other hand, I definitely recognized the sound of clinking ceramic composites and metallic alloys, interspersed with the miniature nuclear reactor core pumping into the MK I power armor. Given my current disposition, it’s a little difficult to forget a sound like that. I was up faster than you could blink, even though it felt like I was fighting my muscles to move that quickly. Quietly wriggling my way up the sand dune in a belly crawl as the light began to fade, I peered over the outcropping down at one of the weirdest things I have ever seen. And believe you me, once I got a glimpse in a mirror, I thought I’d seen it all. It was definitely MK I power armor, all right. The glint of it in the pale starlight, I watched through my slightly dusty goggles as what I swear to God was a portal silently zipped shut behind him. To be honest, I kind of freaked out a little. Okay, maybe a lot. I freaked out a lot. I panicked. I saw the power armor, the portal. The first thing that came to my mind were thoughts of being hunted down by the remnants of the Enclave, ensuring that they were doing their ‘job’. Or that they’d finally achieved their goals of long range teleportation, and that the apocalypse was nigh. For me, anyway. From the swearing and the way the wearer of the metal suit was slapping angrily at a small glowing box, I’d have guessed that I wasn’t too far off with the teleportation idea. Apparently, the tiny blue cube was either shaking violently, or Tin Man here was having an epileptic seizure. He only held it in one gauntleted hand, though, and it took me a long minute to figure out why. In his other hand, he held a caged prisoner. And I might not have the best sight through these goggles, but I’m damned sure that little furred thing wasn’t a Radscorpion. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Rad Child – As your radiation sickness increases, you gain cumulative regenerative capabilities. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Author's Note Guess who discovered Fallout? So, since discovering both Fallout - and, by extent, Fallout: Equestria - I have wasted about two or three HUNDRED hours of my life. That's usually not a good thing. However, I don't know if it can technically be called 'wasted' if I'm using what information I have to make something out of it. For the record, if you haven't yet read Fallout: Equestria, then you have my pity, because it is awesome. Seriously, go give Kkat some love. Ain't That A Kick In The Head?0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 “Let me go – let me go!” Sweetie Belle shrieked shakily, pushing with futility against the bars of her small cage. The abominable metal monster shook the cage viciously, causing her to fall silent almost immediately. “Jesus Christ,” Phillip Juarez swore angrily from beneath his power armor, bitterly dropping the small cage and giving his useless Pip-Boy 3000 a couple of violent pokes. Not that the action could damage it, of course; he’d been supplied with one of the older models, anyway – the Pip-Boy 3000-A. Apparently, not quite as durable and reliable as he’d been told it was, as he couldn’t even receive a proper signal from the base. He shuffled the sawed off shotgun on his hip, picking at a scab. “Piece of crap.” Phillip grumbled, slapping around his thighs for the secondary radio broadcaster that he could use to get back in touch with his commanding officers. Jerking off his helmet for a little more breathing room, he seethed quietly. It was too much trouble, being yanked back to the real world through the ‘teleporters’ Enclave’s research and development team had ‘created’. In his opinion, they’d probably stolen it. It looked and behaved alien enough to be Russian, or maybe even Chinese. He frowned as he toyed with the broadcaster, flicking it on while the wretched creature in the cage wailed at him. “Please, somepony help me!” “Shut the hell up, would you?” Phillip yelled at the terrified unicorn, giving the cage another mean kick. Sweetie Belle whimpered as she was tossed viciously against the side, tumbling a few feet with the prison. The unicorn began to cry again, but seeing the metal monster preparing to kick the cage again, she bit down on one hoof to stifle the noise. Grunting satisfactorily that she’d been successfully subdued, Phillip returned to his attempt at contacting the base and getting his labor over with. With as much ‘data collection’ as they’d had him do, it was a surprise he hadn’t gotten cancer or something from being temporarily jettisoned into alternate dimensions over and over again. It was also a surprise to Phillip when a foot was temporarily jettisoned into his face. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 I have to admit, I’m not much of a people person. Ever since I was a kid, I just wasn’t much good at talking to people. I always preferred to stay locked up in my room, toying around with different invention ideas and taking apart old machinery my big brother would bring back for me sometimes. Besides, it wasn’t like anybody in the ‘safe zone’ had anything decent to say. You would not believe how boring some people can be. Just talking and talking about themselves! It’s insane! Machines, though. I like technology, and I’m okay with animals. Mostly because they talk about as much as machines do. Don’t get me wrong; machines talk plenty. They’ve got their very own language, their own programming, their own quirks and benefits, pros and weaknesses; they’re great. Animals are kind of like computers, in that aspect. So, you can understand why I might have been a little upset at seeing someone kicking the equivalent of a puppy right in front of me. Sure, I could plainly see that it sure as hell wasn’t a puppy. From the way it looked, I’d have guessed it was some kind of centaur-esque mutant. It took me a few seconds before I actually recognized it for what it was; I just couldn’t figure out how in the hell one of those Enclave thugs managed to get their grimy hands on a pony. And that’s when I got the real surprise. “Please, somepony help me!” It talked. That thing, that little white pony – a unicorn, at that – just talked. Perfect English. And that slimy son of a bitch kicked her. What else was I supposed to do but return the favor? I waited until he’d turned away from her before making my move; from the outcropping above him, I actually had a pretty good line of sight, regardless of the way my crappy M-40 gas mask altered my vision a little. Calculating the trajectory, and gauging for my body mass plus the downward pull of gravitational forces in addition to my initial momentum, I was easily able to determine that the dropkick to the face really fucking hurt. Tin Man went down with a squawk like a deranged chicken, and out colder than a box of ice cubes. On the downside, I think I nearly broke my leg. Tumbling off of the unconscious creep and wiping the blood off my foot in the sand, I started doing what I do best. Scavenging. See, I don’t like people, but I like killing people even less. It’s just not good for Karma, and that’s one thing our mother always beat into our little noggins. Sure enough, Enclave Boy here was loaded down with all sorts of survival goodies – radioactivity resistant packaged dry goods, a couple of dandy Stim-packs. And there’s a point where I just say screw Karma, because I took the prick’s water canteens, too. … What? The bastard kicked a puppy! Er, unicorn. Whatever. When I was done pillaging his unconscious body (god, that sounded wrong) I finagled a little keycard from him, which I guessed was for the cage. If it wasn’t, well… we could see if the pony was dynamite resistant. Honestly, I didn’t like the idea of blasting open the cage, but if it was necessary to bust the little thing out I’d do it in a heartbeat. With that grim thought in mind, I turned to the poor frightened thing to consolingly provide the nurturing care of a much needed and incredibly macho silent guardian angel. Only to discover that the little monster had magicked open the door by herself, and was holding a loaded shotgun directly at my head. “Don’t. Bucking. Move.” 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Animal Friend - Animals will not attack one of their friends, unless the animal is threatened or attacked first. Exactly what an animal is in this world is open to debate. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Lady Luck Might Be Fickle0-0-0-0-0 “Don’t. Bucking. Move.” Sweetie Belle aimed the weapon directly at the freakish monster, doing her absolute best to sound threatening. Unfortunately, the scratchy squeak of her voice didn’t sound very intimidating. Sweetie Belle, however young, was no idiot; she clearly recognized a weapon when she saw one. When she slipped free from her prison and snatched up the odd tubular thing that her captor had dropped, it took her a matter of moments to discover how it worked. She was rather proud of herself for that, but in hindsight, it looked fairly simple. An easy little cocking lever, along with a trigger mechanism. She leveled the weapon at the masked creature’s head, staring hard into the red bits of glass where the eyes were supposed to be. She couldn’t read it’s expression, and even though it wasn’t speaking like the other one was, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a threat. “Don’t come any closer!” Sweetie Belle insisted, unable to keep herself from backing away instinctively when it began to come toward her. It might have incapacitated the other monster, but it still could have meant her harm. She brandished the weapon telekinetically in front of her, causing it to hold up two appendages. 0-0-0-0-0 This little idiot. I didn’t really like the position to begin with. I didn’t like being woken up when I really could have used some good shuteye, and I was liking this even less. The poor kid really thought she was threatening; and, in fact, I was kind of scared right then. I’m not going to deny it. But I would have been a lot more afraid for my own life if she’d been pointing the shotgun in the right direction. I started inching toward her, hoping that maybe I could get that thing away from the pony before she wound up blowing her face off. “Don’t come any closer!” she shrieked, brandishing the sawed off shotgun more violently. She leveled it directly in front of her face, putting the barrels between her eyes. Oh, this is not going to end well. I stood stock still, just freezing mid-stride. This kid was going to wind up blowing her brains out from the panicking; and if there’s one thing you never, ever want to do , it’s cause an animal to panic. Panic means unpredictability, and unpredictability equals danger. So long as she was dangerous, I was in a bad position. And overanalyzing things again. Man, that’s a bad habit. Fortunately (or not, in hindsight) for me, Enclave Boy actually started to wake up from all the shouting. He twitched and groaned, shifting a little. The unicorn’s eyes darted over to him, startled. That was all I needed. Punching one end of the barrel horizontally and grasping the barrel with my other hand, I shoved the business end of the gun away from the kid’s face as fast as I could- -which was just in time for her to scream when I jumped at her. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie had only looked away for a split second. The metal monster began to rise, and the moment it did so, the bipedal in the red-eyed mask lurched toward her to deprive her of her only means of defense. Instinctively, she screamed and magically pulled on the trigger just as the thing snatched the weapon… And pointed it away. BANG! The blast from the end was deafening. Sweetie dropped the gun in fear as the explosion whizzed by her head, burying itself into the sand. She cringed and tried to scamper back, tripping over her own hooves. Terrified, Sweetie Belle backpedalled against the outcropping that the masked monster had leapt from, unable to get past him or go any further upwards. It looked hopeless, and she didn’t like her chances of escape. Much to her surprise, however, the masked monster didn’t seem to be coming any closer. As a matter of fact, he was… trying to give her the weapon back. He silently held the weapon out in one hand, gesturing for her to take it. He made several motions with his hands, indicating that one end was very dangerous – which Sweetie Belle had just discovered, coincidentally. Quickly, he popped open the gun and showed her how it was loaded. A couple of cylindrical tubes popped out, and he fished another from his pocket. With a couple of flicks from his fingers, he showed her the safety-locking mechanism on the side, which prevented it from firing unwantedly. “Um…” Sweetie Began, watching him warily. She hadn’t expected him to try teaching her the intricacies of weaponry. 0-0-0-0-0 I swear, I think this kid is a moron. Most of the time, I don’t really care about having my vocal chords slashed. I can’t really make any noise. Well, that’s not true. I can make one noise, but it’s more like a gurgling, unpleasant sort of death-gargle than anything. Long story short, even though the light regenerative capabilities granted by the radiation help a little with flesh wounds, I can’t regrow limbs or major arteries or anything like that. That also means no vocal chords. I tried to teach the little unicorn as fast as I could about the thing she’d nearly blown her face off with, and to her credit, she seemed pretty enthralled with it. A little more intrigued than someone who’d nearly had their face blasted off should have been, really. But at least I thought she got the picture. I tried handing it back to her, crouching down and making myself less big and scary looking. She took it out of my hand slowly, and I watched in amazement while her horn lit up like the lights of New Vegas and the shotgun floated into the air. I don’t care what kind of creature anyone is, telekinesis is fucking awesome. See, why couldn’t my radiation poisoning have given me superpowers, or something? I mean, cool superpowers. Not this Wolverine knockoff garbage. I want to shoot lasers out of my eyes. Now, that is a superpower. She twirled the gun around in the air for a second, before flicking it open and closed a couple of times. Enclave Boy seemed to have given up trying to stay conscious, but I gave him another kick in the head for good measure. Just taking safety precautions. The unicorn looked appalled that I’d kicked him while he was down, and I got another surprise when she actually started talking again. “Wait, don’t do that!” she scolded me, and I was kind of tempted to kick him again just out of spite. … What? I don’t like people telling me what to do. Or unicorns, for that matter. In retrospect, I probably could have saved myself and a lot of other people a lot of trouble had I just snapped the guy’s neck then and there. Instead, I settled for picking around at the old Pip-Boy he had on one wrist. From the looks of it, I’d say the guy had a couple of surgical implants for instantaneous medical injections; believe me, that ain’t cheap. I was kind of smug, disabling that sucker. It took a couple of minutes, but I put the Pip-Boy back good as… well, actually, he was going to get a big surprise when he woke up. I’ll leave it at that. Instead of curb stomping Tin Man while I was at it, though, I just pointed over at the opened cage. Believe it or not, she hadn’t actually even opened the cage door. She must have used magic or something, because the bars on the opposite side had all been bent away. … Holy crap, It really took me a minute. Do you have any idea how weird it is, thinking a sentence like that? Used. MAGIC. I shrugged, eventually. Not like there was anything I could say to dissuade her. I left Enclave Boy in the dirt, and took off at a brisk jog in the same direction I’d been going before I stopped for the night. I wanted to get some good distance before he woke up and found out I’d just robbed him. Really, I thought that the unicorn would go her own way now, but believe it or not, she actually wound up following me. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie Belle followed the masked man. It was silently and stealthily, at first. She quietly crept along, keeping the shotgun magicked close to her side in case any of the other monsters tried sneaking up on her. However, the masked man occasionally turned around and checked back on her, as if to make sure she was okay. He showed her an odd symbol with his hand, a single thumb extended toward the sky before nodding. It didn’t take long before Sweetie’s curiosity grew. “Hey! Is this the way home?” she asked eventually, trotting in the cool sand alongside him. “Do you know where we are? Is this Saddle Arabia? Who was that monster that kidnapped me? Do you have a weird face under your mask too?” That last one made him twitch, but he didn’t slow down. The masked man scratched the top of his head with a leather gloved hand, head flicking left and right before swiftly sliding down a sand dune and beginning to climb up a short rocky slab. On her left, Sweetie spotted the glint of metal in the dark as what could be recognized as a water pump. There was a bit more vegetation nearby, and from the litter and concrete blocks, she guessed civilization was nearby. “Are we going the right way? How long until we get there? Do you have any more of these weapons? What do you even need them for? Are there more of those guys from before? Is this part of Equestria? How come it’s so dark? It was bright as day a little bit ago. Do you have daytime here? Are we even in Equestria anymore? Are you an alien? I guess you must think I’m an alien – how silly is that! I’m Sweetie Belle, by the way! What’s your name? Do you have a name? How come you don’t talk?” 0-0-0-0-0 Oh my GOD this was such a bad idea. This little monster just would not shut up. The whole damned time, I was trying to be quiet. I tried everything I could to be the embodiment of a freakin’ ninja, and this little unicorn just wouldn’t stop talking. ‘Sweetie Belle’, as she called herself, just rambled and rambled. The incessant questions. Is this what my mother went through when I was a kid? I know she always said that I was more inquisitive than a child should be, and how frustrated she’d get with all the questions. I had no idea it was this awful though and oh god she’s still talking! “Are we near civilization? Is this the way to Ponyville? I guessed there must be some other ponies nearby, because of that water pump back there! Nopony leaves a water pump in the middle of nowhere, right? Pretty smart, huh? Can you tell me where we’re going? Are we there yet?” I swear to god, I will give anything to make this child shut up. And, of course, no sooner had I thought it that we got ambushed by a pack of vicious, starving giant geckos. 0-0-0-0-0 Swift Learner – You are indeed a swift learner. You earn extra experience and learn at a faster pace. 0-0-0-0-0 Author's Note Sometimes, you just aren't lucky. And Now We're Even0-0-0-0-0 I fucking hate Geckos. I didn’t even like the abominable little things before. The first time I saw one, it was on display in a museum; a tiny, petrified corpse from pre-war times. Even now, they still have those freaky-looking, bulgy eyes. The only differences are that these have sharper teeth. And they’re a hell of a lot bigger. It was difficult to keep track of them all, but from a quick glance, at least five or six of them must have swarmed us at once. I watched two of them slither out from beneath the water pump Sweetie Belle had just been gesturing at, and three of them ceased feasting on a very dead person that had the bad luck of getting here a little before we did. And, of course, the damned kid just stood there. I don’t exactly carry around a lot of heavy weaponry on my person. I don’t lug around a lot of firepower, and I learned the hard way with a dud grenade that I’m no good with explosives. What I do have, however, is a grubby little nine millimeter pistol, which I keep tucked into my belt at all times. Just for the record, don’t take any lessons from me. Buy a damned holster. What I’m telling you now is from before I even considered whether or not sticking a loaded weapon into my pants was a bad idea. Genius, my ass. Two of the overgrown lizards from the pump both charged the unicorn, and I managed to shoot one of them square between the eyes with no problem. I was pretty proud of myself, right then. Sweetie Belle panicked, jabbing the sawed-off shotgun uselessly in the other’s direction. The Gecko sailed through the air as it pounced, and Sweetie Belle shrieked when it grabbed her by the mane and dragged her to the ground. I didn’t even get the chance to stop it before the other three freaking mauled me. One of them (and I’m damned lucky in hindsight) was a young one; pretty small for a gecko. It was the first one to latch onto my leg, biting and digging through my pants like so much paper. I panicked, firing straight down and wasting a shot while desperately trying to kick the little yellow bastard off. Instead, another of his much bigger friends sideswiped me, grappling my hip while the other one tried gnawing on my neck. Have I ever mentioned that I hate Geckos? Slamming as hard as I could onto my back to dislodge the large Gecko around my neck, I elbowed the little monster while I went down just to be sure. That wouldn’t do much more than phase it, though; meaning that follow-up shot from over the shoulder had to put it out of commission. Hey, I’m not much of a shot long-range, but when it’s that close, I’m pretty accurate. On the downside, HORRIBLE pain. I was bleeding pretty badly from the back and side of the neck by the time I hit the ground, and I barely had time to jam the pistol into big Gecko number dos’s eye before firing. It was messy, but efficient. Leaving me with a free leg to kick the ever living hell out of the remaining mini-monster on my leg. Now, keep in mind; all of this was going down in a matter of seconds. In my defense, I was a little too preoccupied to pay much attention to how Sweetie Belle was faring. Which could probably explain why, as I stood there victoriously panting and bleeding like a triumphant moose baring it’s antlers, I never saw the Gecko Sweetie had barely managed to telekinetically toss off of herself come scrabbling at me. Being the idiot that I am, I’d completely unloaded my pistol on the other three Geckos; Pitifully aiming up from the ground, I had the pistol leveled directly at the freakish thing’s head; it was the depressing click of an empty magazine that really sunk in. Almost as much as those teeth sunk into my face barely a moment afterwards. I really, really don’t like Geckos. Believe me, if I could have screamed, I would have. Instead, I just let out that awful gargle and slapped at the beast with one hand while its hind legs scratched and cut into my head like a buzz saw. And, thank god, Sweetie Belle took her one opportunity when the Gecko was preoccupied to pick up the shotgun and clobber that bastard has hard as she could. If it hadn’t been for that, the Gecko very well might have dug straight through my head. The butt of the gun must have at least shattered his cranium, because I think I part of his head sort of… cave in when she hit him. And then kept hitting him. It probably should have occurred to me before that (of course it should have, duh) she’s a kid. Sweetie probably never killed anything in her entire life; she didn’t even know how to hold a gun, for crying out loud. Even when it was obviously dead and crippled beyond anything a single bullet could have done to it, the poor kid just kept swinging the shotgun harder and harder, crying the whole time. … I’m going to admit, that had to be just about the saddest, most heart wrenching goddamned thing I have ever seen. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie Belle really hadn’t meant to break down and cry. She sniffled miserably, sitting beside the masked man as he stoked the flame of the campfire. It had been more than a bit surprising when the man tried showing her that he was okay, silently attempting to sooth her. Instead, he probably made it worse when he showed her his wounds slowly disappearing. Watching the flesh and skin slowly but steadily stitch itself back together had been just as jarring and terrifying as being attacked by enormous lizard-like aberrations. If not more so. And then he began picking apart the Geckos. Sweetie shuddered when he offered her a slab of toasted meat, pushing the revolting display away from her. The fact that he was actually eating them was just so… disgusting. Then again, since the monsters had just tried to eat them, maybe he just had a really, really sick sense of irony. Her stomach growled as the wisp of smoke curled into the night sky peacefully, and she watched in fascination and horror as her newfound protector lifted his mask a small bit. Nothing more than enough to show his mouth and part of his bottom jaw. From what Sweetie could see from the flickering light of the fire didn’t look too appealing. From the glance she had, it revealed pieces of scarred, unhealthy flesh and… The masked man bit into the steak with fervor, juicy bits dribbling down his wrist as he offered a makeshift gecko-kabob once again. Sweetie politely declined by turning away and violently vomiting. 0-0-0-0-0 Thump thump. Phillip blinked, and immediately regretted doing so. His head pounded viciously, and he squeezed his eyes back together as his heart raced even faster. He was dead. He had to have been dead. Breathing slowly and focusing on the pain in order to drag himself back to consciousness, Phillip ground his teeth. Think. He had to think. Assess the situation. First of all, he wasn’t dead. That was pretty surprising. He should have been dead; if not because of that masked attacker, then only because he’d failed his mission. He’d seen what happened to Enclave recruits that failed missions. Everyone knew what happened if you failed a mission. Your Pip-Boy acted as a nonstop data transfer to the higher ups, and if they decided that you’d failed, you didn’t wake up. Sometimes, the failures were automatically injected through the device with a lethal amount of drugs. The cocktail itself was almost always painful, and definitely always lethal. Sometimes, they decided to force you to Jump – into one of the ‘other zones’. Places where nobody ever came back. And sometimes, they just decided that you were easily exploded. Needless to say, recruits like Phillip had plenty of motivation to never, ever fail. Ever. Or else. And yet, here he was. Lying on his back with his hands bound in front of him, stripped of his armor and staring up at the morning sky as he was trundled along in the back of a caravan wagon along with a myriad of other unfortunate souls. Perhaps the Enclave decided that he hadn’t failed after all… Maybe they were giving him a second chance. Spurred on by this despite the horrendous blinding headache, Phillip struggled to sit up and peer around at some of the others. The stench of the mutated bovine Brahmin jerking the rickety cart along assaulted his nostrils, but nobody else seemed to have noticed it. One of the many men in identical uniforms briskly jogging beside the large cart nodded toward another of his comrades, eliciting a response from the one leading the Brahmin. “Well, lookie who just woke up?” the broken toothed man grinned at him wickedly, giving the Brahmin another whip to hurry it along. The Vexillarius armor adorning the man displayed his high ranking position as a lump grew in Phillip’s throat as he realized just how badly his situation had taken a turn for the worse. The padded, razor-tipped armor of the many foot soldiers of Caesar’s Legion clanked heartily as they traveled. The forlorn, downcast and dirty faces of the men, women and children around him should have tipped him off first. They weren’t just being transported. They were going to be sold as slaves. He swallowed hard, keeping his head down. Oddly enough, they hadn’t bothered taking his Pip-Boy. It still remained attached firmly to his forearm, the bio-injector still linked tightly to his veins. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to… damage their product? In confusion, Phillip tilted his bound wrists slightly until he could get a better look at his device. It definitely appeared as though it had been tampered with. He scowled, thinking heavily. Seven soldiers, plus the high ranking official. He needed to strategize if he was going to resume his mission, after all. Obviously, he needed to debilitate the leader first. The Vexillarius didn’t get to that position by being weak, and he’d received enough information on Caesar’s Legion to know that they were a formidable force in the Mojave already. It took Phillip a moment to realize that he’d been staring hard at the same chained woman for several minutes, and she held his gaze. The bedraggled woman wore nothing but a tablecloth as makeshift clothing, holding a small dirty-faced brown haired boy next to her side. He didn’t seem to share his mother’s sharper looks, and seemed surprisingly healthy in contrast to her. Awkwardly noticing, he cast his gaze downward toward his now bare feet and rubbed his finger along the Pip-Boy. “Are you going to save us?” the boy said in a whispered tone. His mother promptly hushed him, worryingly gazing over at the guards. Phillip almost chuckled at that. He was going to have a hard enough time saving himself. Especially considering the fact that the Enclave wasn’t responding to any of his signals. The Pip-Boy was in perfect working condition. They should have answered. But it remained silent, he didn’t explode, he didn’t Jump. Meaning that Plan B had to work, or a headache was going to be the least of his worries. And, as he ever so slowly fingered the VATS calculating device so as not to be seen by the guards, his chances of beating Lady Luck slowly grew. The Enclave couldn’t hear him anymore. All the more reason to make some noise. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie Belle tossed and turned all night. The masked man had kindly offered her his bedroll, instead sitting by the campfire and keeping watch throughout the night. That didn’t make it any easier to sleep. Her stomach growled once again as she rolled onto her opposite side, sighing heavily. She was trying to make the best of a bad situation, but that still wasn’t much. Sweetie was tired, hungry, cold, and downright miserable. Even the stars above were unfamiliar to her. She stared at them as the world slowly turned to a new day, watching them dance and twinkle, pirouetting through the sky in a slow waltz. How was she supposed to get home? Where was home? Sweetie tried to push the thoughts from her head, rolling over once again. She furrowed her brow, trying to force herself to sleep. Needless to say, it didn’t work very well. And then she heard it. A noise she might not have heard had she been asleep. A light, scratchy skittering. 0-0-0-0-0 I might have fallen asleep a little. What? Okay, so I was supposed to be on watch. I didn’t get much sleep. Is that really my fault? I couldn’t have drifted off for more than a minute. A minute, tops. Just goes to show that I’m still learning about survival. My eyes were heavy, and my head was drooping a bit. The fire was warm, I had a full belly. I could come up with all sorts of excuses for never hearing that big ass Gecko creeping up on me. I didn’t even get a chance to defend myself properly when the bastard pounced on my back, tearing right through the flesh. If you’ve never had sharpened, dirty Gecko claws ripping into you, compare them to a really, really big cat. They latch on with all fours if they get the chance, and proceed to bite the hell out of whatever they get ahold of. It’s a vicious, brutally effective method of taking down prey – they’re most effective in packs, but a single Gecko can take down a Brahmin if they have the element of surprise. So, I really shouldn’t be so much to blame for getting my ass handed to me by something half my size. The Gecko shrieked in victory when I flailed forward, burning myself on the campfire as I tried to roll away. The pain in my back and shoulders from the claw wounds, coupled with unsurprisingly hot fire started to put me into a state of shock. By the way, if you’re ever in any kind of fight, try to avoid going into a state of shock. It’s a fast way to die. So, while I was lying there stunned and bleeding into the sand, flapping around like a landlocked fish in search of a pistol in the dark, Sweetie Belle actually managed to surprise me. The Gecko leapt in glee when I failed to get up immediately… Only to be blasted out of the air with a loud bang! from the sawed off shotgun. Sweetie stood over the body of the decapitated Gecko, breathing heavily. The magically levitated shotgun stayed still in the air, even though her whole tiny body was shaking. And, like an idiot, I just laid there, staring. I’ve got to admit, that was kind of an impressive shot. “Are-are you o-okay, m-mister?” If I could have laughed out loud, I would have. The poor kid was standing there, quivering like death itself had just tapped her shoulder, and she was asking if I was okay. Actually, no. I was not okay, I was bleeding from multiple lacerations and had a couple of nasty burn wounds along my palms from where I tried to keep from eating campfire. But I was slowly healing, so I guess I was okay. The little shrug I gave her as I stood told her all that I could. By the way, the whole ‘regeneration’ thing? It itches like crazy. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that enough, because aside from being painful, the urge to scratch is so damned appealing. Just because I’ve begun to develop a higher pain threshold since getting bitch-slapped by radiation doesn’t mean I don’t get hurt or god I need to scratch so badly! I tried to quit the twitching long enough to avoid freaking out the kid any longer, and began silently (duh) packing up the camp. Sweetie saw what I was doing, and slowly began setting about helping. It obviously wasn’t safe here. Then again, it wasn’t safe anywhere. That’s another thing I’ve learned from life in the Mojave. You can’t ever let your guard down. For any reason. Ever. Every time you think you’ve got it made, every time you think you’re finally safe, remember; You’re not. It’s easy to forget that, and it’s even easier to slip into the many pitfalls this place has to offer. And, as we continued our journey through the dark, it occurred to me that I really don’t think that’s a lesson Sweetie Belle will easily learn. Or worse, when she finally does, it’ll make her into a ruthless, cold blooded killing machine. It wasn’t the death of wild animals, or even our own impending doom lurking around every corner that made a shiver go up my spine. It was the fact that I’d just personally lent a hand in something awful without even realizing it. I’d just witnessed the beginning of the death of innocence itself. Those shattered remains of Geckos were a testament to that. And it scared me, just a little bit.
It's Never Scorpions0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Monster. That’s what they called the members of the Enclave, the shadowy section of the government that bubbled upward when everything went straight to nuclear hell. Monster. That’s what I called them - or, tried to call them - as the bastards slit my throat, leaving me to die in that godforsaken hellhole. Monster. That’s what they used to call me, when I ever removed the mask. But here? Out in the Mojave? They don’t see me that way, because we’re all the same. To the Enclave, to each other, to those damnable geckos that keep popping up when you least expect them. We’re all monsters in the glow of the radiation. Sometimes, radiation has a weird effect on people. Take me, for example. I grew up pretty safe from the dangers of the outside world; for the most part, anyway. At least until the Enclave extended their reach to me, of all people. And with nothing else in my life to keep me from serving beneath them, what else was I going to put my knowledge to use for? Building birdhouses in my spare time? No, I gladly accepted their offer. Could be why I was so surprised when I found out just what they were up to; guess propaganda just doesn’t match up to the truth. It’s simple, obvious things like that, the little things that always went over my head. Genius, my ass. Monster. Sometimes, it’s better to be forgotten. To be nameless, to be faceless. Sometimes, it’s better to be no one of importance, especially when the whole world wants you dead. Monster. Sometimes, when the world is filling up with heroes desperate to prove their gallantry and fervor by slaying the monsters and demons in the dark, it’s better to be unnoticed. Out here, in the Mojave? I’m nobody. Nobody at all. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 “Check!” “Saddlebags?” “Check-o!” “Homework assignment.” “Check-a-roony-doony!” Sweetie Belle chirruped, eagerly prancing back and forth in front of the door like an antsy Opal after a full meal. “Oh, very well, then.” Rarity mock-sighed, her horn alighting in a soft glow as the front door swung open, the morning sunlight pouring in. She smiled kindly, if a little sadly. “Have fun at school.” “Whee!” Sweetie’s high pitched, slightly scratchy cheer of success following her as she bounded swiftly out of Carousel Boutique, throwing a quick wave goodbye to her elder sister. The enthusiastic unicorn galloped forward as quickly as she could, the soft felt of her schoolbags pushing into her sides as she ran. Rarity had kept her preoccupied long enough, what with all the fussing over her mane and insisting on making breakfast for her first day back at school. It didn’t take long for her to reach their usual meeting place at the crossroads, and Sweetie pushed herself even faster when she saw Scootaloo and Applebloom awaiting her. She grinned manically as she came to a breathy halt, huffing and puffing to catch her breath. “Ain’t never heard a’ pacin’ yourself, have ya’?” Applebloom teased, cocking an eyebrow. “Peh-shaw.” Scootaloo interjected flippantly. “Pacing is for slowpokes! Right, Sweetie?” Sweetie Belle, however, was having difficulty breathing. Something which gave Applebloom a great deal of amusement, of course. The trio trotted at an even pace toward their ultimate destination, the staple in their lives that rang of many paper-filled days ahead. For Sweetie Belle, school wasn’t so much about spending more time with her friends as it was about learning; and, with an inquisitive mind like her own, it was a welcoming place. That didn't mean she wasn't overjoyed to see her friends, of course. It was going to be a good day. At least, it would be, without a certain other pony or two. “What’s the matter? Afraid of being la~ate, Blank Flanks?” Scootaloo’s head turned so quickly, Sweetie could have sworn she heard it snap. She wasn’t quite certain how Diamond Tiara had actually managed to convince Silver Spoon to pull the spoiled brat in a small wagon up the dirt road. However, pull, she did, and Silver Spoon’s constant toiling to tug her ‘friend’ was testament to that. “Aw, come on!” Sweetie Belle moaned in despair, her head drooping. “It’s the first day!” she spat in frustration, glaring at their regular antagonist. “Can’t you behave yourself for one day, Tiara?” The pale bubblegum-colored pony gasped in offense, a hoof flying up to her mouth. “How dare you! As if I would ever do anything-!” “Got that right,” Silver Spoon grunted, tugging on the wagon handle. “What was that?” Diamond Tiara snapped, glaring at her. “Nothing!” the straining earth pony replied instantly, refocusing her efforts on pulling Tiara. Sweetie Belle felt a pang of sympathy for the grey earth pony. At least, for a split second, before Diamond Tiara’s attention was directed at her. “Your saddlebags are ugly.” Tiara said lazily, eyes narrowing at Sweetie. However, true to her status as friend, Applebloom was quick to reply. “Ugly saddlebags.” Applebloom chuckled, noting the lack of Tiara’s own. She was probably making Silver Spoon carry them, anyway. “You’re slippin’, Tiara. Spend all summer comin’ up with that?” Diamond Tiara stood angrily in the wagon as it moved, bobbling back and forth. Before she could give her retort, however, Scootaloo quickly took up the mantle. “Don’t say things like that, Applebloom!” the merengue pegasus said jokingly. “She probably had Silver Spoon do it.” “How dare you-!” Diamond Tiara glowered, stamping a hoof. “How dare, how dare – has anypony told you that you’re very repetitive?” Sweetie Belle asked nonchalantly, doing her best to keep her face straight. Tiara let out a whistle of rage through her teeth. She stamped twice more against the wagon, silently insisting that Silver Spoon work faster. “See you ‘round, Sombra Junior!” Applebloom called tauntingly after her as they sped down the road, and the scream of frustration that bellowed back was oddly satisfying. Sweetie Belle giggled, shaking her head. There’d be no end to Diamond Tiara for the entire year; as a matter of fact, they’d probably just worsened their situation. But who cared? So long as they had each other, they were confident that they could handle anything that crossed their paths. It was this sort of youthful arrogance that Sweetie Belle came to both regret, and long for. The countless nights she spent urgently wishing to return to those innocent days, the numberless hours she spent calling her friend’s names – she’d give anything to go back to that blissful ignorance. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 It had been an average day. Sweetie Belle saw her friends, her first day back at school had gone as expected, and the sun was shining heartily. “Yeah, sorry.” Scootaloo rubbed the back of her neck guiltily, ruffling her small wings. “I can’t today. I promised R.D that I’d pick up on my reading.” “Really?” Applebloom asked skeptically, trotting mindfully alongside her feathered friend, her head full of the day’s events. “When was this?” “Scoots’d deep-fry herself if Rainbow Dash asked her to,” Sweetie grinned, sticking her tongue out. “Nu-uh!” Scootaloo’s eyebrows gathered together as she scrunched her face. “I was going to get a book on practical aerial tactics, anyhow!” “Sure ya’ were.” The young farm pony nodded, spotting her elder sister at the crossroad. It didn’t take long for Scootaloo to scurry off, further into Ponyville. “See you tomorrow, I guess?” Sweetie Belle asked hopefully, nodding to Applejack as they drew closer. “A’course!” the filly said enthusiastically. “Maybe even later today, after I help Applejack with some o’ the fritters for Big Mac’s birthday party.” “There’s a party?” Sweetie Belle stopped in her tracks, a little hurt that she hadn’t even known. Or been invited. Applebloom, however, was too busy catching up with her tired-looking orange sister to answer. They eventually left Sweetie Belle standing dejectedly and alone at the crossroads, and she let out a heavy sigh. Wish my sister would walk ME home, Sweetie thought a little bitterly, but pushed it from her mind. Rarity had a very busy schedule, and besides; she wasn’t a foal. She could walk herself home. But, still. It was a quiet walk. The soft clopping of hooves meeting the dirt road gradually faded away as Sweetie Belle lost herself in her thoughts, saddlebags shifting into a more comfortable position. Then again, they might have been more comfortable if Ms. Cheerilee had avoided giving them homework on the first day back at school. Perhaps it was because she was so caught up in her thoughts that, at first, she didn’t notice the peculiar glowing blue ring of light. She noticed that her hooves had changed color first; or at least, they appeared to have done so, in the dim glow of the rotating circle of light, hanging dully in the air above. Her mouth hanged open in surprise and shock, and for a moment, she felt as if her mind had simply stopped processing information. It was just something that didn’t happen on an average day, after all. Neither was the sudden appearance of a freakishly tall, steel-clad abomination that dropped out of the ring. Sweetie Belle barely had time to register the information, let alone scream when it dragged her through the ring of light. Within a couple of seconds, the rippling portal was gone, leaving the dirt path devoid of pony life. The only thing that indicated anypony had ever been there at all were a single set of tracks, cut off sharply in the middle of the road by a single scorch mark. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Sometimes, I forget how long I’ve been traveling. It’s easy to get lost in the Mojave, mostly because everything looks pretty much the same. There’s a lot of dirt, and a lot of sand. A lot of sand. However, over time, I’ve gradually gotten to the point where I can recognize areas pretty easily by their wildlife, the tracks and markers left previously; you know, living off the fat of the land. It’s really not as difficult as it sounds, so long as you’re not too picky about what or when you eat. Water, though – water can be a pain in the ass to come by. I was getting a drink, one way or another. At first, I was pretty damned thrilled when I found that small pool of water, just as the sun was setting in preparation for another dark night. A nice little pond, with a little vegetation in a sandy outcropping? Yeah, doesn’t happen every day. Regardless, I welcomed the sight with open canteens. From the taste of it, the water might have even been a little radioactive. But, then again, I don’t really worry much about radiation since the whole ‘Enclave’ thing. Actually, that’s an outright lie. I worry plenty about the radiation; it’s all a matter of how badly you get irradiated that’s important. Nobody really wants to wind up a mutant. The stuff in the water was pretty weak anyway, and I hadn’t had anything to drink for a couple of days. In the middle of the desert, that’s usually a pretty bad thing. Only took me one time to figure that one out. The sad part is that it took me a single time at all. Genius, my ass. By the time I’d gotten a good drink from the water and set up a small encampment for the night, I was really looking forward to some good shut-eye. An empty little cove, with a (mostly) good water source, no Radscorpions, Radroaches, or even regular roaches for once? It sounded too good to be true. Turns out, it really was too good to be true. Lady Luck is a fickle bitch. I was maybe – maybe – five minutes into a good sleep on my worn bedroll. You know, the really comfortable kind of sleep, and you’re just on the edge of a sweet dream full of bacon and non-radioactive substances. I hate being woken up unexpectedly almost as much as I do being caught without my mask; that’s why I never take it off. Ever. It bugs me enough when I have to lift up the bottom just to eat or drink something. Not that I’m self-conscious of my looks, or anything. It’s just very, very uncomfortable to take off. Or move. Ever. Okay, maybe ten minutes. I was pretty out of it. There might have been something in that water after all. The point is, I was comfortable, dammit. I know I really shouldn’t have been, and I’ve had to learn the hard way a couple of times that a deep sleeper is likely to sleep forever. I didn’t really want to get up and investigate the screaming when it started, any more than I did the peculiar blue light basking the little cove in luminescence. On the other hand, I definitely recognized the sound of clinking ceramic composites and metallic alloys, interspersed with the miniature nuclear reactor core pumping into the MK I power armor. Given my current disposition, it’s a little difficult to forget a sound like that. I was up faster than you could blink, even though it felt like I was fighting my muscles to move that quickly. Quietly wriggling my way up the sand dune in a belly crawl as the light began to fade, I peered over the outcropping down at one of the weirdest things I have ever seen. And believe you me, once I got a glimpse in a mirror, I thought I’d seen it all. It was definitely MK I power armor, all right. The glint of it in the pale starlight, I watched through my slightly dusty goggles as what I swear to God was a portal silently zipped shut behind him. To be honest, I kind of freaked out a little. Okay, maybe a lot. I freaked out a lot. I panicked. I saw the power armor, the portal. The first thing that came to my mind were thoughts of being hunted down by the remnants of the Enclave, ensuring that they were doing their ‘job’. Or that they’d finally achieved their goals of long range teleportation, and that the apocalypse was nigh. For me, anyway. From the swearing and the way the wearer of the metal suit was slapping angrily at a small glowing box, I’d have guessed that I wasn’t too far off with the teleportation idea. Apparently, the tiny blue cube was either shaking violently, or Tin Man here was having an epileptic seizure. He only held it in one gauntleted hand, though, and it took me a long minute to figure out why. In his other hand, he held a caged prisoner. And I might not have the best sight through these goggles, but I’m damned sure that little furred thing wasn’t a Radscorpion. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Rad Child – As your radiation sickness increases, you gain cumulative regenerative capabilities. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Author's Note Guess who discovered Fallout? So, since discovering both Fallout - and, by extent, Fallout: Equestria - I have wasted about two or three HUNDRED hours of my life. That's usually not a good thing. However, I don't know if it can technically be called 'wasted' if I'm using what information I have to make something out of it. For the record, if you haven't yet read Fallout: Equestria, then you have my pity, because it is awesome. Seriously, go give Kkat some love.
Ain't That A Kick In The Head?0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 “Let me go – let me go!” Sweetie Belle shrieked shakily, pushing with futility against the bars of her small cage. The abominable metal monster shook the cage viciously, causing her to fall silent almost immediately. “Jesus Christ,” Phillip Juarez swore angrily from beneath his power armor, bitterly dropping the small cage and giving his useless Pip-Boy 3000 a couple of violent pokes. Not that the action could damage it, of course; he’d been supplied with one of the older models, anyway – the Pip-Boy 3000-A. Apparently, not quite as durable and reliable as he’d been told it was, as he couldn’t even receive a proper signal from the base. He shuffled the sawed off shotgun on his hip, picking at a scab. “Piece of crap.” Phillip grumbled, slapping around his thighs for the secondary radio broadcaster that he could use to get back in touch with his commanding officers. Jerking off his helmet for a little more breathing room, he seethed quietly. It was too much trouble, being yanked back to the real world through the ‘teleporters’ Enclave’s research and development team had ‘created’. In his opinion, they’d probably stolen it. It looked and behaved alien enough to be Russian, or maybe even Chinese. He frowned as he toyed with the broadcaster, flicking it on while the wretched creature in the cage wailed at him. “Please, somepony help me!” “Shut the hell up, would you?” Phillip yelled at the terrified unicorn, giving the cage another mean kick. Sweetie Belle whimpered as she was tossed viciously against the side, tumbling a few feet with the prison. The unicorn began to cry again, but seeing the metal monster preparing to kick the cage again, she bit down on one hoof to stifle the noise. Grunting satisfactorily that she’d been successfully subdued, Phillip returned to his attempt at contacting the base and getting his labor over with. With as much ‘data collection’ as they’d had him do, it was a surprise he hadn’t gotten cancer or something from being temporarily jettisoned into alternate dimensions over and over again. It was also a surprise to Phillip when a foot was temporarily jettisoned into his face. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 I have to admit, I’m not much of a people person. Ever since I was a kid, I just wasn’t much good at talking to people. I always preferred to stay locked up in my room, toying around with different invention ideas and taking apart old machinery my big brother would bring back for me sometimes. Besides, it wasn’t like anybody in the ‘safe zone’ had anything decent to say. You would not believe how boring some people can be. Just talking and talking about themselves! It’s insane! Machines, though. I like technology, and I’m okay with animals. Mostly because they talk about as much as machines do. Don’t get me wrong; machines talk plenty. They’ve got their very own language, their own programming, their own quirks and benefits, pros and weaknesses; they’re great. Animals are kind of like computers, in that aspect. So, you can understand why I might have been a little upset at seeing someone kicking the equivalent of a puppy right in front of me. Sure, I could plainly see that it sure as hell wasn’t a puppy. From the way it looked, I’d have guessed it was some kind of centaur-esque mutant. It took me a few seconds before I actually recognized it for what it was; I just couldn’t figure out how in the hell one of those Enclave thugs managed to get their grimy hands on a pony. And that’s when I got the real surprise. “Please, somepony help me!” It talked. That thing, that little white pony – a unicorn, at that – just talked. Perfect English. And that slimy son of a bitch kicked her. What else was I supposed to do but return the favor? I waited until he’d turned away from her before making my move; from the outcropping above him, I actually had a pretty good line of sight, regardless of the way my crappy M-40 gas mask altered my vision a little. Calculating the trajectory, and gauging for my body mass plus the downward pull of gravitational forces in addition to my initial momentum, I was easily able to determine that the dropkick to the face really fucking hurt. Tin Man went down with a squawk like a deranged chicken, and out colder than a box of ice cubes. On the downside, I think I nearly broke my leg. Tumbling off of the unconscious creep and wiping the blood off my foot in the sand, I started doing what I do best. Scavenging. See, I don’t like people, but I like killing people even less. It’s just not good for Karma, and that’s one thing our mother always beat into our little noggins. Sure enough, Enclave Boy here was loaded down with all sorts of survival goodies – radioactivity resistant packaged dry goods, a couple of dandy Stim-packs. And there’s a point where I just say screw Karma, because I took the prick’s water canteens, too. … What? The bastard kicked a puppy! Er, unicorn. Whatever. When I was done pillaging his unconscious body (god, that sounded wrong) I finagled a little keycard from him, which I guessed was for the cage. If it wasn’t, well… we could see if the pony was dynamite resistant. Honestly, I didn’t like the idea of blasting open the cage, but if it was necessary to bust the little thing out I’d do it in a heartbeat. With that grim thought in mind, I turned to the poor frightened thing to consolingly provide the nurturing care of a much needed and incredibly macho silent guardian angel. Only to discover that the little monster had magicked open the door by herself, and was holding a loaded shotgun directly at my head. “Don’t. Bucking. Move.” 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Animal Friend - Animals will not attack one of their friends, unless the animal is threatened or attacked first. Exactly what an animal is in this world is open to debate. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Lady Luck Might Be Fickle0-0-0-0-0 “Don’t. Bucking. Move.” Sweetie Belle aimed the weapon directly at the freakish monster, doing her absolute best to sound threatening. Unfortunately, the scratchy squeak of her voice didn’t sound very intimidating. Sweetie Belle, however young, was no idiot; she clearly recognized a weapon when she saw one. When she slipped free from her prison and snatched up the odd tubular thing that her captor had dropped, it took her a matter of moments to discover how it worked. She was rather proud of herself for that, but in hindsight, it looked fairly simple. An easy little cocking lever, along with a trigger mechanism. She leveled the weapon at the masked creature’s head, staring hard into the red bits of glass where the eyes were supposed to be. She couldn’t read it’s expression, and even though it wasn’t speaking like the other one was, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a threat. “Don’t come any closer!” Sweetie Belle insisted, unable to keep herself from backing away instinctively when it began to come toward her. It might have incapacitated the other monster, but it still could have meant her harm. She brandished the weapon telekinetically in front of her, causing it to hold up two appendages. 0-0-0-0-0 This little idiot. I didn’t really like the position to begin with. I didn’t like being woken up when I really could have used some good shuteye, and I was liking this even less. The poor kid really thought she was threatening; and, in fact, I was kind of scared right then. I’m not going to deny it. But I would have been a lot more afraid for my own life if she’d been pointing the shotgun in the right direction. I started inching toward her, hoping that maybe I could get that thing away from the pony before she wound up blowing her face off. “Don’t come any closer!” she shrieked, brandishing the sawed off shotgun more violently. She leveled it directly in front of her face, putting the barrels between her eyes. Oh, this is not going to end well. I stood stock still, just freezing mid-stride. This kid was going to wind up blowing her brains out from the panicking; and if there’s one thing you never, ever want to do , it’s cause an animal to panic. Panic means unpredictability, and unpredictability equals danger. So long as she was dangerous, I was in a bad position. And overanalyzing things again. Man, that’s a bad habit. Fortunately (or not, in hindsight) for me, Enclave Boy actually started to wake up from all the shouting. He twitched and groaned, shifting a little. The unicorn’s eyes darted over to him, startled. That was all I needed. Punching one end of the barrel horizontally and grasping the barrel with my other hand, I shoved the business end of the gun away from the kid’s face as fast as I could- -which was just in time for her to scream when I jumped at her. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie had only looked away for a split second. The metal monster began to rise, and the moment it did so, the bipedal in the red-eyed mask lurched toward her to deprive her of her only means of defense. Instinctively, she screamed and magically pulled on the trigger just as the thing snatched the weapon… And pointed it away. BANG! The blast from the end was deafening. Sweetie dropped the gun in fear as the explosion whizzed by her head, burying itself into the sand. She cringed and tried to scamper back, tripping over her own hooves. Terrified, Sweetie Belle backpedalled against the outcropping that the masked monster had leapt from, unable to get past him or go any further upwards. It looked hopeless, and she didn’t like her chances of escape. Much to her surprise, however, the masked monster didn’t seem to be coming any closer. As a matter of fact, he was… trying to give her the weapon back. He silently held the weapon out in one hand, gesturing for her to take it. He made several motions with his hands, indicating that one end was very dangerous – which Sweetie Belle had just discovered, coincidentally. Quickly, he popped open the gun and showed her how it was loaded. A couple of cylindrical tubes popped out, and he fished another from his pocket. With a couple of flicks from his fingers, he showed her the safety-locking mechanism on the side, which prevented it from firing unwantedly. “Um…” Sweetie Began, watching him warily. She hadn’t expected him to try teaching her the intricacies of weaponry. 0-0-0-0-0 I swear, I think this kid is a moron. Most of the time, I don’t really care about having my vocal chords slashed. I can’t really make any noise. Well, that’s not true. I can make one noise, but it’s more like a gurgling, unpleasant sort of death-gargle than anything. Long story short, even though the light regenerative capabilities granted by the radiation help a little with flesh wounds, I can’t regrow limbs or major arteries or anything like that. That also means no vocal chords. I tried to teach the little unicorn as fast as I could about the thing she’d nearly blown her face off with, and to her credit, she seemed pretty enthralled with it. A little more intrigued than someone who’d nearly had their face blasted off should have been, really. But at least I thought she got the picture. I tried handing it back to her, crouching down and making myself less big and scary looking. She took it out of my hand slowly, and I watched in amazement while her horn lit up like the lights of New Vegas and the shotgun floated into the air. I don’t care what kind of creature anyone is, telekinesis is fucking awesome. See, why couldn’t my radiation poisoning have given me superpowers, or something? I mean, cool superpowers. Not this Wolverine knockoff garbage. I want to shoot lasers out of my eyes. Now, that is a superpower. She twirled the gun around in the air for a second, before flicking it open and closed a couple of times. Enclave Boy seemed to have given up trying to stay conscious, but I gave him another kick in the head for good measure. Just taking safety precautions. The unicorn looked appalled that I’d kicked him while he was down, and I got another surprise when she actually started talking again. “Wait, don’t do that!” she scolded me, and I was kind of tempted to kick him again just out of spite. … What? I don’t like people telling me what to do. Or unicorns, for that matter. In retrospect, I probably could have saved myself and a lot of other people a lot of trouble had I just snapped the guy’s neck then and there. Instead, I settled for picking around at the old Pip-Boy he had on one wrist. From the looks of it, I’d say the guy had a couple of surgical implants for instantaneous medical injections; believe me, that ain’t cheap. I was kind of smug, disabling that sucker. It took a couple of minutes, but I put the Pip-Boy back good as… well, actually, he was going to get a big surprise when he woke up. I’ll leave it at that. Instead of curb stomping Tin Man while I was at it, though, I just pointed over at the opened cage. Believe it or not, she hadn’t actually even opened the cage door. She must have used magic or something, because the bars on the opposite side had all been bent away. … Holy crap, It really took me a minute. Do you have any idea how weird it is, thinking a sentence like that? Used. MAGIC. I shrugged, eventually. Not like there was anything I could say to dissuade her. I left Enclave Boy in the dirt, and took off at a brisk jog in the same direction I’d been going before I stopped for the night. I wanted to get some good distance before he woke up and found out I’d just robbed him. Really, I thought that the unicorn would go her own way now, but believe it or not, she actually wound up following me. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie Belle followed the masked man. It was silently and stealthily, at first. She quietly crept along, keeping the shotgun magicked close to her side in case any of the other monsters tried sneaking up on her. However, the masked man occasionally turned around and checked back on her, as if to make sure she was okay. He showed her an odd symbol with his hand, a single thumb extended toward the sky before nodding. It didn’t take long before Sweetie’s curiosity grew. “Hey! Is this the way home?” she asked eventually, trotting in the cool sand alongside him. “Do you know where we are? Is this Saddle Arabia? Who was that monster that kidnapped me? Do you have a weird face under your mask too?” That last one made him twitch, but he didn’t slow down. The masked man scratched the top of his head with a leather gloved hand, head flicking left and right before swiftly sliding down a sand dune and beginning to climb up a short rocky slab. On her left, Sweetie spotted the glint of metal in the dark as what could be recognized as a water pump. There was a bit more vegetation nearby, and from the litter and concrete blocks, she guessed civilization was nearby. “Are we going the right way? How long until we get there? Do you have any more of these weapons? What do you even need them for? Are there more of those guys from before? Is this part of Equestria? How come it’s so dark? It was bright as day a little bit ago. Do you have daytime here? Are we even in Equestria anymore? Are you an alien? I guess you must think I’m an alien – how silly is that! I’m Sweetie Belle, by the way! What’s your name? Do you have a name? How come you don’t talk?” 0-0-0-0-0 Oh my GOD this was such a bad idea. This little monster just would not shut up. The whole damned time, I was trying to be quiet. I tried everything I could to be the embodiment of a freakin’ ninja, and this little unicorn just wouldn’t stop talking. ‘Sweetie Belle’, as she called herself, just rambled and rambled. The incessant questions. Is this what my mother went through when I was a kid? I know she always said that I was more inquisitive than a child should be, and how frustrated she’d get with all the questions. I had no idea it was this awful though and oh god she’s still talking! “Are we near civilization? Is this the way to Ponyville? I guessed there must be some other ponies nearby, because of that water pump back there! Nopony leaves a water pump in the middle of nowhere, right? Pretty smart, huh? Can you tell me where we’re going? Are we there yet?” I swear to god, I will give anything to make this child shut up. And, of course, no sooner had I thought it that we got ambushed by a pack of vicious, starving giant geckos. 0-0-0-0-0 Swift Learner – You are indeed a swift learner. You earn extra experience and learn at a faster pace. 0-0-0-0-0 Author's Note Sometimes, you just aren't lucky.
And Now We're Even0-0-0-0-0 I fucking hate Geckos. I didn’t even like the abominable little things before. The first time I saw one, it was on display in a museum; a tiny, petrified corpse from pre-war times. Even now, they still have those freaky-looking, bulgy eyes. The only differences are that these have sharper teeth. And they’re a hell of a lot bigger. It was difficult to keep track of them all, but from a quick glance, at least five or six of them must have swarmed us at once. I watched two of them slither out from beneath the water pump Sweetie Belle had just been gesturing at, and three of them ceased feasting on a very dead person that had the bad luck of getting here a little before we did. And, of course, the damned kid just stood there. I don’t exactly carry around a lot of heavy weaponry on my person. I don’t lug around a lot of firepower, and I learned the hard way with a dud grenade that I’m no good with explosives. What I do have, however, is a grubby little nine millimeter pistol, which I keep tucked into my belt at all times. Just for the record, don’t take any lessons from me. Buy a damned holster. What I’m telling you now is from before I even considered whether or not sticking a loaded weapon into my pants was a bad idea. Genius, my ass. Two of the overgrown lizards from the pump both charged the unicorn, and I managed to shoot one of them square between the eyes with no problem. I was pretty proud of myself, right then. Sweetie Belle panicked, jabbing the sawed-off shotgun uselessly in the other’s direction. The Gecko sailed through the air as it pounced, and Sweetie Belle shrieked when it grabbed her by the mane and dragged her to the ground. I didn’t even get the chance to stop it before the other three freaking mauled me. One of them (and I’m damned lucky in hindsight) was a young one; pretty small for a gecko. It was the first one to latch onto my leg, biting and digging through my pants like so much paper. I panicked, firing straight down and wasting a shot while desperately trying to kick the little yellow bastard off. Instead, another of his much bigger friends sideswiped me, grappling my hip while the other one tried gnawing on my neck. Have I ever mentioned that I hate Geckos? Slamming as hard as I could onto my back to dislodge the large Gecko around my neck, I elbowed the little monster while I went down just to be sure. That wouldn’t do much more than phase it, though; meaning that follow-up shot from over the shoulder had to put it out of commission. Hey, I’m not much of a shot long-range, but when it’s that close, I’m pretty accurate. On the downside, HORRIBLE pain. I was bleeding pretty badly from the back and side of the neck by the time I hit the ground, and I barely had time to jam the pistol into big Gecko number dos’s eye before firing. It was messy, but efficient. Leaving me with a free leg to kick the ever living hell out of the remaining mini-monster on my leg. Now, keep in mind; all of this was going down in a matter of seconds. In my defense, I was a little too preoccupied to pay much attention to how Sweetie Belle was faring. Which could probably explain why, as I stood there victoriously panting and bleeding like a triumphant moose baring it’s antlers, I never saw the Gecko Sweetie had barely managed to telekinetically toss off of herself come scrabbling at me. Being the idiot that I am, I’d completely unloaded my pistol on the other three Geckos; Pitifully aiming up from the ground, I had the pistol leveled directly at the freakish thing’s head; it was the depressing click of an empty magazine that really sunk in. Almost as much as those teeth sunk into my face barely a moment afterwards. I really, really don’t like Geckos. Believe me, if I could have screamed, I would have. Instead, I just let out that awful gargle and slapped at the beast with one hand while its hind legs scratched and cut into my head like a buzz saw. And, thank god, Sweetie Belle took her one opportunity when the Gecko was preoccupied to pick up the shotgun and clobber that bastard has hard as she could. If it hadn’t been for that, the Gecko very well might have dug straight through my head. The butt of the gun must have at least shattered his cranium, because I think I part of his head sort of… cave in when she hit him. And then kept hitting him. It probably should have occurred to me before that (of course it should have, duh) she’s a kid. Sweetie probably never killed anything in her entire life; she didn’t even know how to hold a gun, for crying out loud. Even when it was obviously dead and crippled beyond anything a single bullet could have done to it, the poor kid just kept swinging the shotgun harder and harder, crying the whole time. … I’m going to admit, that had to be just about the saddest, most heart wrenching goddamned thing I have ever seen. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie Belle really hadn’t meant to break down and cry. She sniffled miserably, sitting beside the masked man as he stoked the flame of the campfire. It had been more than a bit surprising when the man tried showing her that he was okay, silently attempting to sooth her. Instead, he probably made it worse when he showed her his wounds slowly disappearing. Watching the flesh and skin slowly but steadily stitch itself back together had been just as jarring and terrifying as being attacked by enormous lizard-like aberrations. If not more so. And then he began picking apart the Geckos. Sweetie shuddered when he offered her a slab of toasted meat, pushing the revolting display away from her. The fact that he was actually eating them was just so… disgusting. Then again, since the monsters had just tried to eat them, maybe he just had a really, really sick sense of irony. Her stomach growled as the wisp of smoke curled into the night sky peacefully, and she watched in fascination and horror as her newfound protector lifted his mask a small bit. Nothing more than enough to show his mouth and part of his bottom jaw. From what Sweetie could see from the flickering light of the fire didn’t look too appealing. From the glance she had, it revealed pieces of scarred, unhealthy flesh and… The masked man bit into the steak with fervor, juicy bits dribbling down his wrist as he offered a makeshift gecko-kabob once again. Sweetie politely declined by turning away and violently vomiting. 0-0-0-0-0 Thump thump. Phillip blinked, and immediately regretted doing so. His head pounded viciously, and he squeezed his eyes back together as his heart raced even faster. He was dead. He had to have been dead. Breathing slowly and focusing on the pain in order to drag himself back to consciousness, Phillip ground his teeth. Think. He had to think. Assess the situation. First of all, he wasn’t dead. That was pretty surprising. He should have been dead; if not because of that masked attacker, then only because he’d failed his mission. He’d seen what happened to Enclave recruits that failed missions. Everyone knew what happened if you failed a mission. Your Pip-Boy acted as a nonstop data transfer to the higher ups, and if they decided that you’d failed, you didn’t wake up. Sometimes, the failures were automatically injected through the device with a lethal amount of drugs. The cocktail itself was almost always painful, and definitely always lethal. Sometimes, they decided to force you to Jump – into one of the ‘other zones’. Places where nobody ever came back. And sometimes, they just decided that you were easily exploded. Needless to say, recruits like Phillip had plenty of motivation to never, ever fail. Ever. Or else. And yet, here he was. Lying on his back with his hands bound in front of him, stripped of his armor and staring up at the morning sky as he was trundled along in the back of a caravan wagon along with a myriad of other unfortunate souls. Perhaps the Enclave decided that he hadn’t failed after all… Maybe they were giving him a second chance. Spurred on by this despite the horrendous blinding headache, Phillip struggled to sit up and peer around at some of the others. The stench of the mutated bovine Brahmin jerking the rickety cart along assaulted his nostrils, but nobody else seemed to have noticed it. One of the many men in identical uniforms briskly jogging beside the large cart nodded toward another of his comrades, eliciting a response from the one leading the Brahmin. “Well, lookie who just woke up?” the broken toothed man grinned at him wickedly, giving the Brahmin another whip to hurry it along. The Vexillarius armor adorning the man displayed his high ranking position as a lump grew in Phillip’s throat as he realized just how badly his situation had taken a turn for the worse. The padded, razor-tipped armor of the many foot soldiers of Caesar’s Legion clanked heartily as they traveled. The forlorn, downcast and dirty faces of the men, women and children around him should have tipped him off first. They weren’t just being transported. They were going to be sold as slaves. He swallowed hard, keeping his head down. Oddly enough, they hadn’t bothered taking his Pip-Boy. It still remained attached firmly to his forearm, the bio-injector still linked tightly to his veins. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to… damage their product? In confusion, Phillip tilted his bound wrists slightly until he could get a better look at his device. It definitely appeared as though it had been tampered with. He scowled, thinking heavily. Seven soldiers, plus the high ranking official. He needed to strategize if he was going to resume his mission, after all. Obviously, he needed to debilitate the leader first. The Vexillarius didn’t get to that position by being weak, and he’d received enough information on Caesar’s Legion to know that they were a formidable force in the Mojave already. It took Phillip a moment to realize that he’d been staring hard at the same chained woman for several minutes, and she held his gaze. The bedraggled woman wore nothing but a tablecloth as makeshift clothing, holding a small dirty-faced brown haired boy next to her side. He didn’t seem to share his mother’s sharper looks, and seemed surprisingly healthy in contrast to her. Awkwardly noticing, he cast his gaze downward toward his now bare feet and rubbed his finger along the Pip-Boy. “Are you going to save us?” the boy said in a whispered tone. His mother promptly hushed him, worryingly gazing over at the guards. Phillip almost chuckled at that. He was going to have a hard enough time saving himself. Especially considering the fact that the Enclave wasn’t responding to any of his signals. The Pip-Boy was in perfect working condition. They should have answered. But it remained silent, he didn’t explode, he didn’t Jump. Meaning that Plan B had to work, or a headache was going to be the least of his worries. And, as he ever so slowly fingered the VATS calculating device so as not to be seen by the guards, his chances of beating Lady Luck slowly grew. The Enclave couldn’t hear him anymore. All the more reason to make some noise. 0-0-0-0-0 Sweetie Belle tossed and turned all night. The masked man had kindly offered her his bedroll, instead sitting by the campfire and keeping watch throughout the night. That didn’t make it any easier to sleep. Her stomach growled once again as she rolled onto her opposite side, sighing heavily. She was trying to make the best of a bad situation, but that still wasn’t much. Sweetie was tired, hungry, cold, and downright miserable. Even the stars above were unfamiliar to her. She stared at them as the world slowly turned to a new day, watching them dance and twinkle, pirouetting through the sky in a slow waltz. How was she supposed to get home? Where was home? Sweetie tried to push the thoughts from her head, rolling over once again. She furrowed her brow, trying to force herself to sleep. Needless to say, it didn’t work very well. And then she heard it. A noise she might not have heard had she been asleep. A light, scratchy skittering. 0-0-0-0-0 I might have fallen asleep a little. What? Okay, so I was supposed to be on watch. I didn’t get much sleep. Is that really my fault? I couldn’t have drifted off for more than a minute. A minute, tops. Just goes to show that I’m still learning about survival. My eyes were heavy, and my head was drooping a bit. The fire was warm, I had a full belly. I could come up with all sorts of excuses for never hearing that big ass Gecko creeping up on me. I didn’t even get a chance to defend myself properly when the bastard pounced on my back, tearing right through the flesh. If you’ve never had sharpened, dirty Gecko claws ripping into you, compare them to a really, really big cat. They latch on with all fours if they get the chance, and proceed to bite the hell out of whatever they get ahold of. It’s a vicious, brutally effective method of taking down prey – they’re most effective in packs, but a single Gecko can take down a Brahmin if they have the element of surprise. So, I really shouldn’t be so much to blame for getting my ass handed to me by something half my size. The Gecko shrieked in victory when I flailed forward, burning myself on the campfire as I tried to roll away. The pain in my back and shoulders from the claw wounds, coupled with unsurprisingly hot fire started to put me into a state of shock. By the way, if you’re ever in any kind of fight, try to avoid going into a state of shock. It’s a fast way to die. So, while I was lying there stunned and bleeding into the sand, flapping around like a landlocked fish in search of a pistol in the dark, Sweetie Belle actually managed to surprise me. The Gecko leapt in glee when I failed to get up immediately… Only to be blasted out of the air with a loud bang! from the sawed off shotgun. Sweetie stood over the body of the decapitated Gecko, breathing heavily. The magically levitated shotgun stayed still in the air, even though her whole tiny body was shaking. And, like an idiot, I just laid there, staring. I’ve got to admit, that was kind of an impressive shot. “Are-are you o-okay, m-mister?” If I could have laughed out loud, I would have. The poor kid was standing there, quivering like death itself had just tapped her shoulder, and she was asking if I was okay. Actually, no. I was not okay, I was bleeding from multiple lacerations and had a couple of nasty burn wounds along my palms from where I tried to keep from eating campfire. But I was slowly healing, so I guess I was okay. The little shrug I gave her as I stood told her all that I could. By the way, the whole ‘regeneration’ thing? It itches like crazy. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that enough, because aside from being painful, the urge to scratch is so damned appealing. Just because I’ve begun to develop a higher pain threshold since getting bitch-slapped by radiation doesn’t mean I don’t get hurt or god I need to scratch so badly! I tried to quit the twitching long enough to avoid freaking out the kid any longer, and began silently (duh) packing up the camp. Sweetie saw what I was doing, and slowly began setting about helping. It obviously wasn’t safe here. Then again, it wasn’t safe anywhere. That’s another thing I’ve learned from life in the Mojave. You can’t ever let your guard down. For any reason. Ever. Every time you think you’ve got it made, every time you think you’re finally safe, remember; You’re not. It’s easy to forget that, and it’s even easier to slip into the many pitfalls this place has to offer. And, as we continued our journey through the dark, it occurred to me that I really don’t think that’s a lesson Sweetie Belle will easily learn. Or worse, when she finally does, it’ll make her into a ruthless, cold blooded killing machine. It wasn’t the death of wild animals, or even our own impending doom lurking around every corner that made a shiver go up my spine. It was the fact that I’d just personally lent a hand in something awful without even realizing it. I’d just witnessed the beginning of the death of innocence itself. Those shattered remains of Geckos were a testament to that. And it scared me, just a little bit.
