Fallout: Equestria: All That Glitters Is Not Goldby Inkwell_the_writer_horseChaptersPrologue : For Those Who Seek Adventure...Chapter One: The Best Of The Worst Of The WastelandChapter Two: Road TripPrologue : For Those Who Seek Adventure...A few weeks ago, I was searching the Ponyville ruins for food, guns ammo, parts, anything. It was a normal scav run, until I started snooping around an old store called “Quills And Sofas.” The place wasn’t too bad, the large sign hanging off of the second storey had collapsed and blocked the doorway, but a bundle of dynamite of just the right size had no problem propelling the rusted hunk of decayed metal through the air. I don’t think anyone had had a chance to scavenge it after the war. I wasn’t expecting much, after all, the place was called “Quills And Sofas” but, you never know what you might find in the pre war ruins, especially when they’re so well preserved as this one was. What I found inside was almost impossible to comprehend. As I first entered the building I was overcome with a plethora of unpleasant smells, sounds and sights. The first thing I noticed inside was the two shapes either side of the door, skeletons, ponies, yes, but upright and pinned to the wall with thick, long metal spikes, a clear sign of a battle. There was a small counter at the back of the first, large room I came into. The counter was heavily fortified, with the sofas for which the store was once famous were stacked around it, making, almost a raised platform against the back of the wall. The sofas were dirty, riddled with bullet holes, burns, cuts, blood stains and stains from much less desirable bodily fluids. I climbed to the top of the short sofa fort to find, yet another skeleton, again a pony, but different. There was no visible signs of death. With more time I would have examined his corpse for a cause of death, but once I listened to the memory orb huddled tightly to the corpses chest, I left right away. The memory orb was damaged and was hard to understand at first, but after employing the aid of a former steel ranger star paladin we were able to piece the memory orb together, and we discovered that the memory encased in the orb was simply a radio broadcast, a repeated message. “Tango-echo-sierra-tango, all personnel of the ministry of wartime technology report to codename: pandora. You have exactly forty eight hours before the facilities automatic defenses activate, at which point, access is all but impossible. Final inventory for storage facility, codename: pandora, one Stable-Tec modular hub terminal, ten water purification chips, five hundred crates of assorted ammunitions, twelve power armour suits-” Beyond that point, the message becomes too garbled to be coherent. The reason I have sent this message so far and wide should be obvious to those of you who’ve been paying attention, I wish to loot the storage facility, codename: pandora. This task won’t be an easy one, this facility was the ministry of wartime technology’s primary storage facility for failed and unfinished projects. For this quest hackers, gunmen, thieves and medics will be required, if you’re interested in joining me for this quest, you can find me at the tavern in New Appleoosa. Chapter One: The Best Of The Worst Of The WastelandI sat, hunched over the bar, quietly sipping on the bottle of sparkle cola, staring at the various graffiti that had been drawn and carved onto the bar over the years, some pre-war and some post-war. The residents of New Appleoosa sit in their favourite seats and watch me intently. I told no one of my motives for renting out the taverns unused store room. I hear a forced cough behind me, and follow the dark brown unicorn, now standing at the entrance of the back room, motioning his head behind him. I pushed myself off of the stool by the bar and began to walk towards the back room, joining the unicorn. We both walk into the back room, the door locking behind us. The back room was the model of post-war efficiency, with bags packed with supplies and then stacked in the corner. At the back of the room stood a small army of ponies in varying shapes and sizes, some armed to the teeth, wearing huge pieces of blood-stained and battle worn armour, while others merely wore Stable-Tec jumpsuits or rags. The brown unicorn came to my side, a stack of paper held by his head in an aura of purple magic. He began to talk. “Here, these are the profiles of all the ponies who wanna join the heist crew.” I turned my head towards the unicorn, pleasantly surprised. “Oh really, all the contestants have profiles?” “Easily compiled with a few questions and a series of small tests.” He grinned at me, proud of his own menial accomplishments. “Very nice.” I said, taking the profile from the top of the stack and walking by the mercenaries, all eager to join in the adventure I had promised in radio broadcasts and scattered flyers. I came eye to eye with an earth pony, with eyes, bloodshot and closed to a squint and a jaw jagged and scratched and scarred from years of being pushed to the dirt, they were familiar scars. He wore two bullets around his neck, live rounds that, probably, fit into the two revolvers strapped to either side of his flank. I broke eye contact with him to stare at his profile. “Double Barrel, former raider and prisoner of the NLR, quickly escaped after being released on probation and became a gun for hire once outrunning the NLR border patrol. Highly skilled with small weapons and repair, you’ll be a good gunmen, welcome to the crew.” I jerked my head towards the table in the center of the room, and he walked towards it, taking a long swig of the flask he’d just taken from his saddlebag. I threw the profile to the ground, an aura of purple magic quickly engulfing the paper before it hit the dirt. I held my hoof out, expectantly, as another profile floated towards, engulfed in the same magic aura. I stood close to a unicorn, skinny, and young, but with a face aged beyond its years by the wasteland. He wore a dirty Stable-Tec jumpsuit, he wasn’t the only one wearing one, but he was the only actual stable dweller here, the eyes are a dead giveaway, reddened from enough crying for a lifetime condensed into a few long weeks. I focused on his eyes and he lowered his head, before quickly returning my intense gaze. “Dweller.” He spoke loudly and with a firm tone, and with a glare so furious that, even I, was taken back. “I-uh-what?” I stammered confused. “The profile is wrong. My name is Dweller.” I glanced down at the profile. Name: Muffin Top. He hasn’t been taking to the wasteland, as evidenced by the multitude of bullet holes and scars that adorned his frail body and his rejection of his own name. I read the profile aloud, just to spite him. “Muf- Dweller, former resident of Stable-Tec “stable” preservation shelter, designation: stable two. Narrowly escaped the steel ranger massacre of the stable, at which point I’m guessing he took this as the first job he came across. Highly skilled hacker, lockpick, thief and, apparently, makes a hell of a banana nut muffin.” He stared daggers at me and gave a sly smirk, before winking and whispering to him. “You’re in the band.” He nodded and took his place, standing beside Double barrel at the table. I, again threw the profile to the ground and the unicorn, again, caught it before it even hit the dirt, he takes pride in his work, no matter how menial. I walked up the line before coming to a dead stop in front of a griffon, an unusual sight at meeting like this. Most griffons were part of mercenary guilds, the talons, mostly, Gawdyna Grimfeathers’ little private army “I’m not looking for Gawds thugs on this one. Take a hike.” As I began to continue down the line the griffon pushed her face close to mine, angrily whispering down my ear. “I ain’t one of Gawds thugs, pal.” I could tell I had struck a nerve, so I slowly walked back in front of her. I looked her up and down, she was a soldier, no doubt about that. It was only now that I’d noticed that her armour had no markings, I mean, it had scratches, bullets holes and signs of wear and tear, but there was no paint, like on most mercs. She was a lone wolf, I was intrigued, surprised and just a little bit turned on. I held my hoof out and the unicorn dropped the griffons file onto it. I began to read. “Tail Fire, former mercenary for the talons but left after a ‘difference of opinion’ resulting in two dead talon squadrons, a burned down caravan and a commanding officer with a limp’” “Where did you get that?” She snapped at me, tilting her head forward in a bid to look intimidating. “My buddy, ol’ horn head back there, used some kind of truth spell on you. You probably don’t remember it, but you told him everything on this piece of paper.” I slapped the paper in my hand before turning to the aforementioned unicorn. “Ain’t that right?” The fear on his face was obvious as he hesitated to nod his head, ever so slightly. “It also says you’re highly skilled with big weapons and energy weapons. You’re also a girl, and, in case you didn’t notice, this expedition was shaping up to be quite the sausage fest. You’re in, hit the bench.” I waved her towards the table where Dweller and Double barrel had began to share a bottle of whiskey. The team was starting to take shape, and the idea of actually knocking over a pre-war facility was beginning to seem tangible. I walked further down the line, when my attention was caught by two ponies, a stallion and a mare, both standing at attention next to each other, too disciplined to just be wasteland mercs. I raced further down the line to get to them, stopping in front of them and frantically looking them up and down. “Okay, what’s your game? Who sent you?” The mare looked nervous, but the stallion put his hoof out in front of her, stepping in front as he defended himself and his female companion. “We don’t work for anyone, sir. We’re just two wastelanders looking for a score.” I snapped my head back towards the unicorn and he quickly levitated the files of the two ponies towards me. I stared at the files for a brief moment before shooting a look into the eyes of the stallion in front of me. “You’re a steel ranger.” “What.” He was deflated now, I had him on the ropes. If I kept my persistence, he’d spill everything. “Now you listen here, I don’t want no steel rangers getting in on my heist! I found the memory orb!” He stood tall and spoke loudly. “The steel rangers only want our share of the job, after we get that, you can do whatever you want with the facility.” I looked to the mare behind the ranger. “Cream Soda. Medic, right?” She peered out from behind her companion, nodding. “Okay, you’re in, but, your boyfriend’s staying put. I don’t like having too many steel rangers behind, especially ones with such a destructive skill set as yours” I stared into the eyes of the steel ranger as his partner crept from behind him and joined the others at the table. I spun around, walking towards the table where my team resided. “I have my team, the rest of you can leave, hit the bar, it’s on me.” The remaining candidates erupted in excitement and cheering as they poured from the backroom into the main lounge of the bar, all but one. The steel ranger left behind the rest of the crowd, his unbreaking eye contact with cream soda quite noticeable. When all had finally left I motioned my unicorn assistant to lock the only entrance into the room and dim the lights. I pulled the dirty cloth from atop the table to reveal a large, pre-war holographic map display. I walked to the opposite end of the table from where everyone else had sat, leaning on it, the orange glow of the holographic display of the pandora storage facility casting an ominous, light across my muzzle. “Alright fillies and gentlecolts, here it is, the big time. This is the largest pre-war storage facility belonging to the ministry of wartime technology. It has laid dormant for almost two hundred years, but that all changes now. See, when I decoded that memory orb, the radio broadcast wasn’t the only thing I found. It was the memory of a zebra spy, a member of a small invasion force. They were our predecessors, in a way, they were planning on robbing this place, too, but they screwed up, got caught, and immediately shot. They got caught before even getting within sight of the facility, because, back then, there was wiretapping, anti-zebra propaganda and citizens looking out for Equestrias best interests, but their is none of that now, it’s a dog-eat-dog world, but we are not dogs, we are wolves and this is our wolf pack. The zebras plan didn’t work then, but it’ll work now, because we don’t need to be stealthy. We could blow up half of the fucking world to get this done, and we probably will.” “So what’s the plan?” Tail Fire asked. Short, simple and professional, I could tell she would be essential to this operation. “We head east with a caravan until we come across train tracks, I know a train runner who owes me a favour, he’ll take us to the end of the line, which is the pandora facilitys command outpost, about three clicks south of the actual facility. Once there, we have our hacker disable the primary defence system, making way for our thief to get to the control room from the roof and disable the emergency lockdown system. After that, we make our way into the facility from the north side. The north side was heavily damaged in the war, there’s no wall, we can just walk in and make our way to the lower levels via the express elevators littered throughout the garage.” “Wait, there’s a garage in this place?” Dweller sat up, now, lifting his his chin from the table, and seemingly more interested in the life changing heist he’d blindly joined. “Yea, held a couple of jeeps, a few tanks and a vertibird, but, even if he had a driver or a pilot, I wouldn’t hold out too much hope of any of these vehicles are still in working condition.” I stood up much straighter, mentally preparing myself to explain the next part of the plan. “Once we hit the lower levels we have to make our way through two virtual battlefields, the balefire bombardment testing ground and the radiation chambers.” “Don’t sound too tough, why’d ya put together such a big crew for a job like this?” Double barrel grunted out in his gruff, husky voice. I lowered my head closer to the display and spoke. “It may not sound like much, but trust me, this is serious. The virtual battlefields, as the name would suggest, are recreations of famous battles from throughout pony history, used as a training technique until it proved too dangerous. The simulations use highly advanced androids to populate the battlefields, they use live fire rounds, and are more ruthless and brutal than any raider or zebra you’ll ever meet. As for the balefire bombardment testing area? Imagine a mine field populated by mines that make your skin melt off, and each with a range of twenty five miles. It doesn’t help that the bombs are held on the ceiling, too. Not much is known about the radiation chambers, why they were created or what they produced, but judging by what ambient radiation has done to the creatures out here, it’s hard to imagine what concentrated doses would do to a creature. Once we make it through all of that, we reach the crust, a nickname given to the lowest level of the facility, which contained a royal military bunker, a vault for prototype technologies with the designation: asset and some kind of facility called the last chance, but I know very little about that particular part of the facility.” I exhaled and looked up at my team, a group of the best of the worst of the wasteland, brought together by greed. I lowered my voice to just above a whisper. “This is your last chance, if you want out, now’s the time. Walk out that door, no one will think any less of you or blame you if something goes south.” No one moved, they just sat waiting for someone else to get up. “Alright then. We leave at the crack of dawn, pull up a bedroll and get some rest, you’ll need it.” I left them, making my bed in the broken bathtub of the back rooms bath room. I slept easy that night. Author's Note This story got reviewed, here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPBjOa6Eq_I&list=FL6Pbwwir6WJeenCHZ4_q7Mw&index=1 That is all. Chapter Two: Road TripWe awake early in the morning, the crack of dawn, just like I told them. They follow orders without question, I hope they stay that way. We load the various bags onto the brahmin of the waiting caravan of brahmin, and then walk. The sun wasn’t entirely up, just a bright light on the horizon. The wasteland is a very repetitive piece of scenery, with miles of barren desert extending far beyond a ponies vision, with the occasional remnants of the old world scattered throughout to remind us all of the sins of those who came before us, the skeletons beneath the sand and the rotting wood of destroyed carriages. The orange light washes over the wastes, easing my stinging eyes into the light. The journey is silent, save for the moos of the brahmin, and the occasional cough or grunt of one of my team. I trot close to Dweller, leaning into his ear and asking if his Pipbuck can act as a radio, he tells me yes, and a loud, crackling, buzz emits from his hoof, followed by the ever so slightly staticy, yet beautiful, voice of a mare singing. I catch myself humming along to the tune of “Mad about the mare” and I hear Double barrel give a hearty chuckle. “What? It’s a good song.” I defend my humming as his chuckle ceases. “Hey, whatever you say.” We share a sly smirk at each other and keep walking alongside the brahmin. As we continue to walk I feel something beneath my hooves, hard, cold, metal and beeping. I freeze, the rest of the caravan quickly stopping behind me. Tail Fire raises an eyebrow. “Landmine?” I violently nod my head as I begin to shake and break into a cold sweat. Dweller quickly gets behind me, his horn glowing as I feel the warm magic energy beneath my hoof. “What the hell are you doing?” I find it hard to look behind me, mainly out of fear that I’ll shift weight off of the landmine, sending my flank sky high. He speaks through gritted teeth, there must be something in his mouth. “Relax, I’ve got this. Just don’t move until I tell you to, okay?” I stiffen my legs and follow his advice. Whatever he’s doing, I just hope it works. “RUN!” I bolt forward, bucking a cloud of dust up where I was standing. I jump as far as my legs will take me and land, face first, in the dirt as a muffled KABOOM dends shrapnel and dirt into the air and back down again. I roll onto my back, the dirt sticking to my coat. I survey the damage, hoping the team didn’t get hit. I see Dweller stand up, brushing the dirt from his coat and ruffling it out of his mane. We lock eyes, unable to comprehend how close we both just where to death. He opens his mouth. “By Lunas southern beard. DID YOU SEE THAT?!” He’s an excited child, dancing on the tips of his hooves and jumping up and down. My head drops back to the dirt as I burst into hysterical laughter, followed by the rest of the group, stepping out from behind the two brahmin they had used for a makeshift, fleshy, living barricade. After the mine scare, we kept moving, Dweller staying close to me as I periodically checked his Pip-Bucks map. “This is the place, just alongside these tracks.” I turn around, signalling the rest of the group to stop. “Here?” I hear cream soda yell out from behind the rest of the group. “Yea, we wait here ‘till the train carts come by, then we hitch a ride.” I reply as Dweller trots to the brahmin, taking the bags from their backs and setting them by the track. We don’t wait for too long before a cloud of dust quickly drifts down the rail line, accompanied by the sound of thunderous galloping. As the galloping gets louder, it begins to slow to a gallop and the cloud begins dissipate. Two dirty bucks carry a rusted, old train cart , barely held together as it violently shakes on its way down the line. “T-this is our ride?” Dweller turned towards me with fear in his eyes. I throw my foreleg around his neck and bring him closer to me. “That it is, my privileged friend. You are looking at the height of wasteland technology.” “The height of wasteland technology is a rusted deathtrap pulled on rails by two bucks?” I release my grip and begin to load the bags onto the train as it comes to stop just in front of us. “That it is.” From out of the corner of my eye, I could see brahmin, scattering. I snapped my head back to where they should have been standing to find Tail Fire handing bags to Cream Soda and Double Barrel. I threw the two bags I had already removed from the brahmin onto the train and ran to the two bucks pulling the train. They were filthy, more so than most wastelanders , with a black goo clotting their coats and chips in their hooves. They wore goggles and had all manner of leather and chains adorning their bodies, though it would seem to be for practicalitys sake over any kind of perverse pleasure, as their leather harness’ connected to the rusted train cart through long, dirty chains. “Hey, thanks for this. Either of you know when we should get there?” The yellow buck turned to me, raising his goggle to his forehead revealing two circles of clean hair around his tired, old eyes. “Well, if there ain’t any attacks or repairs to be done, we should get there around noon-ish.” “Thanks for that, pal.” I pat him on the back before he yells to me. “So, this means you and the big guy are even now, right?” “Oh, yea, yea, sure.” I nod my head, running back to the cart, where the group has already made themselves comfortable. I stand next to Tail Fire as she stares out the window. “Enjoying the view?” I try to make conversation, but am met with disinterested grunts. I lean closer to her, trying to see what she’s staring at. Her head snaps towards me as I see a red glint in the mountains above us. My eyes widen and I begin to stutter. “D-did you see that?” “See what?” I keep my gaze towards the mountains, my brain racing through the numerous possibilities of what it could have been. Raiders? Steel Rangers? An NLR patrol? It doesn’t matter now, the train is quickly building up speed and I can’t see anymore movement in the mountains. I finally snap my gaze from the mountains and shake my head, staring at my hooves before glancing up to see Tail Fire. “Nothing. It was nothing. Guess I must’a been seeing things.” I force a chuckle and walk to the back of the cart, where Dweller was already lying down, fiddling with his Pip-Buck as it spewed forth static from its cold, rusting speakers. I lie beside him and stare to the ceiling, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep. “What do you want?” I hear Dweller mutter even through the static. I turn to Dweller, looking up at him as he keeps staring at the device on his hoof. “What?” “What do you want? You were talking to Tail Fire and now you’ve come to me, what do you want?” “I want sleep, damn, why so touchy?” “I’m busy!” He finally looks away from the Pip-Buck to shoot me a look of burning anger. I scoot backwards and raise my hooves up as a sign of peace. “Sorry, man, I just-” Before I can finish my sentence, the static from his Pip-Buck cuts out and a message erupts from out of the white noise. A woman, soft spoken, sounds nice, old but filled with fear at the same time. “It’s going to be okay, Muffin, everything’s going to be fine just keep your head down.” It sounded like a warzone, behind her soothing tone, screams and muzzle fire could be heard. My mind was painting a picture far worse than the firefights I’d previously been privy to. I shuddered to think of the battle that ensued behind the cries of the child in the recording. “Just keep your head and remember that mommy loves yo-” That’s when it cut out, not the gunfire or screaming, but the voice, harshly followed by a thud and the child's cries erupting into a scream of pure terror. I was at a loss for words, all I could do was stare into Dwellers eyes as they began to slowly redden and fill with water. As I stood up to leave Dweller to himself he curled into a ball and faced the wall. I found Cream Soda and Double Barrel screwing around with the equipment to the front of the cart. “What the hell are you two doing?” Double Barrel looked up from the shotgun held like a baby in his arms. “Weapons check.” said whilst cocking the gun. I turned my head to Cream Soda, raising my eyebrow as I asked her. “And you?” She held her head low and stared at me through her bright blue mane, which had draped over her eyes. “Well, Double Barrel was just showing me proper gun maintenance and-” “All right, all right, fine.” I stopped her as her voice became higher and her eyes, glassy. I thought I was past making mares cry, guess I was wrong. I finally settle near the window adjacent to Tail Fire, I spend the rest of the journey staring out of the window. The journey was shorter than I expected, and we get to the facility as the sun descends from the Equestria skies. The train leaves as soon as our last bag is thrown from it. We sling the heavy bags over our backs and across our flanks, in the distance, we see the checkpoint, a small box on the horizon. The surrounding areas were empty. The usual bloatsprites, hell hounds and other abominations of the wasteland where nowhere to be seen. We count it as a blessing and set up a camp within the small checkpoint just outside of the facility. The checkpoint was a rusted mess of pre-war technology, damaged beyond repair a long time ago, except for a single terminal built into the wall below a wide, bulletproof window. We lay down our bags and I look to Dweller, tilting my head to the direction of the terminal. We both walk over to it and I blow the dust that had accumulated atop the terminals thick, green, glass screen. Dweller sneezes and gives me a perturbed expression, I pay no mind to his annoyance and lightly tap the terminal. “Fix it.” I pull a pair of binoculars from my saddlebags and take my place at Dwellers side, looking out through the window. The facility was a giant, beaten down box on the horizon. The four corners of the building held towers, also boxy and with large machine guns atop each of them. As I hear Dweller let out a victorious cheer, I see the machine guns droop, now disabled. I turn to Dweller and nod, he returns my nod and disappears in a brief glow from his horn and a puff of smoke. In the distance, I see a similar puff several feet above the the facility, and Dweller falls from it, landing on the roof of the building. As I run out of the checkpoint building, I call to the rest of the team. “C’mon! We gotta move!” I dart past faces contorted into confused expressions. As I begin to feel out of breath, I reach the doors. Massive, rusted, vault doors. As I slow to a stop, the main gear in the centre of the door begins to turn and the two metal flaps to the side of the door open, releasing the door to slowly lower as the rusted metal grinds against itself in a sharp screech. The rest of the team quickly catches up behind me as the door opens to reveal Dweller, waiting for us. I trot up to him, my head stooping from fatigue. In between breaths I say to him “I… didn’t know… you could ‘port.” He tries to hide a smirk by hanging his head low and muttering out “Yea, well…” I place my hoof on his head, scruffing his mane. I walk past him, and look around. The facility is pitch black. As Dweller fixes his mane I yell back to him. “Couldn’t get the emergency generators on line, huh?” My words echo through the blackness. Dweller replies. “Yea, just give ‘em a minute to kick in.” Deep into the facility, a light suddenly bursts to life with a loud bang, and then another and another. Dozens of rows of lights activate on the ceiling above, until a pale, sickly yellow light overtakes the atmosphere. I look on in awe at the vast emptiness laid out in front of me, and my team come to my side, doing the same. I feel a few words are in order. I clear my throat and speak. “Well then. Let’s get to work.”
Prologue : For Those Who Seek Adventure...A few weeks ago, I was searching the Ponyville ruins for food, guns ammo, parts, anything. It was a normal scav run, until I started snooping around an old store called “Quills And Sofas.” The place wasn’t too bad, the large sign hanging off of the second storey had collapsed and blocked the doorway, but a bundle of dynamite of just the right size had no problem propelling the rusted hunk of decayed metal through the air. I don’t think anyone had had a chance to scavenge it after the war. I wasn’t expecting much, after all, the place was called “Quills And Sofas” but, you never know what you might find in the pre war ruins, especially when they’re so well preserved as this one was. What I found inside was almost impossible to comprehend. As I first entered the building I was overcome with a plethora of unpleasant smells, sounds and sights. The first thing I noticed inside was the two shapes either side of the door, skeletons, ponies, yes, but upright and pinned to the wall with thick, long metal spikes, a clear sign of a battle. There was a small counter at the back of the first, large room I came into. The counter was heavily fortified, with the sofas for which the store was once famous were stacked around it, making, almost a raised platform against the back of the wall. The sofas were dirty, riddled with bullet holes, burns, cuts, blood stains and stains from much less desirable bodily fluids. I climbed to the top of the short sofa fort to find, yet another skeleton, again a pony, but different. There was no visible signs of death. With more time I would have examined his corpse for a cause of death, but once I listened to the memory orb huddled tightly to the corpses chest, I left right away. The memory orb was damaged and was hard to understand at first, but after employing the aid of a former steel ranger star paladin we were able to piece the memory orb together, and we discovered that the memory encased in the orb was simply a radio broadcast, a repeated message. “Tango-echo-sierra-tango, all personnel of the ministry of wartime technology report to codename: pandora. You have exactly forty eight hours before the facilities automatic defenses activate, at which point, access is all but impossible. Final inventory for storage facility, codename: pandora, one Stable-Tec modular hub terminal, ten water purification chips, five hundred crates of assorted ammunitions, twelve power armour suits-” Beyond that point, the message becomes too garbled to be coherent. The reason I have sent this message so far and wide should be obvious to those of you who’ve been paying attention, I wish to loot the storage facility, codename: pandora. This task won’t be an easy one, this facility was the ministry of wartime technology’s primary storage facility for failed and unfinished projects. For this quest hackers, gunmen, thieves and medics will be required, if you’re interested in joining me for this quest, you can find me at the tavern in New Appleoosa.
Chapter One: The Best Of The Worst Of The WastelandI sat, hunched over the bar, quietly sipping on the bottle of sparkle cola, staring at the various graffiti that had been drawn and carved onto the bar over the years, some pre-war and some post-war. The residents of New Appleoosa sit in their favourite seats and watch me intently. I told no one of my motives for renting out the taverns unused store room. I hear a forced cough behind me, and follow the dark brown unicorn, now standing at the entrance of the back room, motioning his head behind him. I pushed myself off of the stool by the bar and began to walk towards the back room, joining the unicorn. We both walk into the back room, the door locking behind us. The back room was the model of post-war efficiency, with bags packed with supplies and then stacked in the corner. At the back of the room stood a small army of ponies in varying shapes and sizes, some armed to the teeth, wearing huge pieces of blood-stained and battle worn armour, while others merely wore Stable-Tec jumpsuits or rags. The brown unicorn came to my side, a stack of paper held by his head in an aura of purple magic. He began to talk. “Here, these are the profiles of all the ponies who wanna join the heist crew.” I turned my head towards the unicorn, pleasantly surprised. “Oh really, all the contestants have profiles?” “Easily compiled with a few questions and a series of small tests.” He grinned at me, proud of his own menial accomplishments. “Very nice.” I said, taking the profile from the top of the stack and walking by the mercenaries, all eager to join in the adventure I had promised in radio broadcasts and scattered flyers. I came eye to eye with an earth pony, with eyes, bloodshot and closed to a squint and a jaw jagged and scratched and scarred from years of being pushed to the dirt, they were familiar scars. He wore two bullets around his neck, live rounds that, probably, fit into the two revolvers strapped to either side of his flank. I broke eye contact with him to stare at his profile. “Double Barrel, former raider and prisoner of the NLR, quickly escaped after being released on probation and became a gun for hire once outrunning the NLR border patrol. Highly skilled with small weapons and repair, you’ll be a good gunmen, welcome to the crew.” I jerked my head towards the table in the center of the room, and he walked towards it, taking a long swig of the flask he’d just taken from his saddlebag. I threw the profile to the ground, an aura of purple magic quickly engulfing the paper before it hit the dirt. I held my hoof out, expectantly, as another profile floated towards, engulfed in the same magic aura. I stood close to a unicorn, skinny, and young, but with a face aged beyond its years by the wasteland. He wore a dirty Stable-Tec jumpsuit, he wasn’t the only one wearing one, but he was the only actual stable dweller here, the eyes are a dead giveaway, reddened from enough crying for a lifetime condensed into a few long weeks. I focused on his eyes and he lowered his head, before quickly returning my intense gaze. “Dweller.” He spoke loudly and with a firm tone, and with a glare so furious that, even I, was taken back. “I-uh-what?” I stammered confused. “The profile is wrong. My name is Dweller.” I glanced down at the profile. Name: Muffin Top. He hasn’t been taking to the wasteland, as evidenced by the multitude of bullet holes and scars that adorned his frail body and his rejection of his own name. I read the profile aloud, just to spite him. “Muf- Dweller, former resident of Stable-Tec “stable” preservation shelter, designation: stable two. Narrowly escaped the steel ranger massacre of the stable, at which point I’m guessing he took this as the first job he came across. Highly skilled hacker, lockpick, thief and, apparently, makes a hell of a banana nut muffin.” He stared daggers at me and gave a sly smirk, before winking and whispering to him. “You’re in the band.” He nodded and took his place, standing beside Double barrel at the table. I, again threw the profile to the ground and the unicorn, again, caught it before it even hit the dirt, he takes pride in his work, no matter how menial. I walked up the line before coming to a dead stop in front of a griffon, an unusual sight at meeting like this. Most griffons were part of mercenary guilds, the talons, mostly, Gawdyna Grimfeathers’ little private army “I’m not looking for Gawds thugs on this one. Take a hike.” As I began to continue down the line the griffon pushed her face close to mine, angrily whispering down my ear. “I ain’t one of Gawds thugs, pal.” I could tell I had struck a nerve, so I slowly walked back in front of her. I looked her up and down, she was a soldier, no doubt about that. It was only now that I’d noticed that her armour had no markings, I mean, it had scratches, bullets holes and signs of wear and tear, but there was no paint, like on most mercs. She was a lone wolf, I was intrigued, surprised and just a little bit turned on. I held my hoof out and the unicorn dropped the griffons file onto it. I began to read. “Tail Fire, former mercenary for the talons but left after a ‘difference of opinion’ resulting in two dead talon squadrons, a burned down caravan and a commanding officer with a limp’” “Where did you get that?” She snapped at me, tilting her head forward in a bid to look intimidating. “My buddy, ol’ horn head back there, used some kind of truth spell on you. You probably don’t remember it, but you told him everything on this piece of paper.” I slapped the paper in my hand before turning to the aforementioned unicorn. “Ain’t that right?” The fear on his face was obvious as he hesitated to nod his head, ever so slightly. “It also says you’re highly skilled with big weapons and energy weapons. You’re also a girl, and, in case you didn’t notice, this expedition was shaping up to be quite the sausage fest. You’re in, hit the bench.” I waved her towards the table where Dweller and Double barrel had began to share a bottle of whiskey. The team was starting to take shape, and the idea of actually knocking over a pre-war facility was beginning to seem tangible. I walked further down the line, when my attention was caught by two ponies, a stallion and a mare, both standing at attention next to each other, too disciplined to just be wasteland mercs. I raced further down the line to get to them, stopping in front of them and frantically looking them up and down. “Okay, what’s your game? Who sent you?” The mare looked nervous, but the stallion put his hoof out in front of her, stepping in front as he defended himself and his female companion. “We don’t work for anyone, sir. We’re just two wastelanders looking for a score.” I snapped my head back towards the unicorn and he quickly levitated the files of the two ponies towards me. I stared at the files for a brief moment before shooting a look into the eyes of the stallion in front of me. “You’re a steel ranger.” “What.” He was deflated now, I had him on the ropes. If I kept my persistence, he’d spill everything. “Now you listen here, I don’t want no steel rangers getting in on my heist! I found the memory orb!” He stood tall and spoke loudly. “The steel rangers only want our share of the job, after we get that, you can do whatever you want with the facility.” I looked to the mare behind the ranger. “Cream Soda. Medic, right?” She peered out from behind her companion, nodding. “Okay, you’re in, but, your boyfriend’s staying put. I don’t like having too many steel rangers behind, especially ones with such a destructive skill set as yours” I stared into the eyes of the steel ranger as his partner crept from behind him and joined the others at the table. I spun around, walking towards the table where my team resided. “I have my team, the rest of you can leave, hit the bar, it’s on me.” The remaining candidates erupted in excitement and cheering as they poured from the backroom into the main lounge of the bar, all but one. The steel ranger left behind the rest of the crowd, his unbreaking eye contact with cream soda quite noticeable. When all had finally left I motioned my unicorn assistant to lock the only entrance into the room and dim the lights. I pulled the dirty cloth from atop the table to reveal a large, pre-war holographic map display. I walked to the opposite end of the table from where everyone else had sat, leaning on it, the orange glow of the holographic display of the pandora storage facility casting an ominous, light across my muzzle. “Alright fillies and gentlecolts, here it is, the big time. This is the largest pre-war storage facility belonging to the ministry of wartime technology. It has laid dormant for almost two hundred years, but that all changes now. See, when I decoded that memory orb, the radio broadcast wasn’t the only thing I found. It was the memory of a zebra spy, a member of a small invasion force. They were our predecessors, in a way, they were planning on robbing this place, too, but they screwed up, got caught, and immediately shot. They got caught before even getting within sight of the facility, because, back then, there was wiretapping, anti-zebra propaganda and citizens looking out for Equestrias best interests, but their is none of that now, it’s a dog-eat-dog world, but we are not dogs, we are wolves and this is our wolf pack. The zebras plan didn’t work then, but it’ll work now, because we don’t need to be stealthy. We could blow up half of the fucking world to get this done, and we probably will.” “So what’s the plan?” Tail Fire asked. Short, simple and professional, I could tell she would be essential to this operation. “We head east with a caravan until we come across train tracks, I know a train runner who owes me a favour, he’ll take us to the end of the line, which is the pandora facilitys command outpost, about three clicks south of the actual facility. Once there, we have our hacker disable the primary defence system, making way for our thief to get to the control room from the roof and disable the emergency lockdown system. After that, we make our way into the facility from the north side. The north side was heavily damaged in the war, there’s no wall, we can just walk in and make our way to the lower levels via the express elevators littered throughout the garage.” “Wait, there’s a garage in this place?” Dweller sat up, now, lifting his his chin from the table, and seemingly more interested in the life changing heist he’d blindly joined. “Yea, held a couple of jeeps, a few tanks and a vertibird, but, even if he had a driver or a pilot, I wouldn’t hold out too much hope of any of these vehicles are still in working condition.” I stood up much straighter, mentally preparing myself to explain the next part of the plan. “Once we hit the lower levels we have to make our way through two virtual battlefields, the balefire bombardment testing ground and the radiation chambers.” “Don’t sound too tough, why’d ya put together such a big crew for a job like this?” Double barrel grunted out in his gruff, husky voice. I lowered my head closer to the display and spoke. “It may not sound like much, but trust me, this is serious. The virtual battlefields, as the name would suggest, are recreations of famous battles from throughout pony history, used as a training technique until it proved too dangerous. The simulations use highly advanced androids to populate the battlefields, they use live fire rounds, and are more ruthless and brutal than any raider or zebra you’ll ever meet. As for the balefire bombardment testing area? Imagine a mine field populated by mines that make your skin melt off, and each with a range of twenty five miles. It doesn’t help that the bombs are held on the ceiling, too. Not much is known about the radiation chambers, why they were created or what they produced, but judging by what ambient radiation has done to the creatures out here, it’s hard to imagine what concentrated doses would do to a creature. Once we make it through all of that, we reach the crust, a nickname given to the lowest level of the facility, which contained a royal military bunker, a vault for prototype technologies with the designation: asset and some kind of facility called the last chance, but I know very little about that particular part of the facility.” I exhaled and looked up at my team, a group of the best of the worst of the wasteland, brought together by greed. I lowered my voice to just above a whisper. “This is your last chance, if you want out, now’s the time. Walk out that door, no one will think any less of you or blame you if something goes south.” No one moved, they just sat waiting for someone else to get up. “Alright then. We leave at the crack of dawn, pull up a bedroll and get some rest, you’ll need it.” I left them, making my bed in the broken bathtub of the back rooms bath room. I slept easy that night. Author's Note This story got reviewed, here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPBjOa6Eq_I&list=FL6Pbwwir6WJeenCHZ4_q7Mw&index=1 That is all.
Chapter Two: Road TripWe awake early in the morning, the crack of dawn, just like I told them. They follow orders without question, I hope they stay that way. We load the various bags onto the brahmin of the waiting caravan of brahmin, and then walk. The sun wasn’t entirely up, just a bright light on the horizon. The wasteland is a very repetitive piece of scenery, with miles of barren desert extending far beyond a ponies vision, with the occasional remnants of the old world scattered throughout to remind us all of the sins of those who came before us, the skeletons beneath the sand and the rotting wood of destroyed carriages. The orange light washes over the wastes, easing my stinging eyes into the light. The journey is silent, save for the moos of the brahmin, and the occasional cough or grunt of one of my team. I trot close to Dweller, leaning into his ear and asking if his Pipbuck can act as a radio, he tells me yes, and a loud, crackling, buzz emits from his hoof, followed by the ever so slightly staticy, yet beautiful, voice of a mare singing. I catch myself humming along to the tune of “Mad about the mare” and I hear Double barrel give a hearty chuckle. “What? It’s a good song.” I defend my humming as his chuckle ceases. “Hey, whatever you say.” We share a sly smirk at each other and keep walking alongside the brahmin. As we continue to walk I feel something beneath my hooves, hard, cold, metal and beeping. I freeze, the rest of the caravan quickly stopping behind me. Tail Fire raises an eyebrow. “Landmine?” I violently nod my head as I begin to shake and break into a cold sweat. Dweller quickly gets behind me, his horn glowing as I feel the warm magic energy beneath my hoof. “What the hell are you doing?” I find it hard to look behind me, mainly out of fear that I’ll shift weight off of the landmine, sending my flank sky high. He speaks through gritted teeth, there must be something in his mouth. “Relax, I’ve got this. Just don’t move until I tell you to, okay?” I stiffen my legs and follow his advice. Whatever he’s doing, I just hope it works. “RUN!” I bolt forward, bucking a cloud of dust up where I was standing. I jump as far as my legs will take me and land, face first, in the dirt as a muffled KABOOM dends shrapnel and dirt into the air and back down again. I roll onto my back, the dirt sticking to my coat. I survey the damage, hoping the team didn’t get hit. I see Dweller stand up, brushing the dirt from his coat and ruffling it out of his mane. We lock eyes, unable to comprehend how close we both just where to death. He opens his mouth. “By Lunas southern beard. DID YOU SEE THAT?!” He’s an excited child, dancing on the tips of his hooves and jumping up and down. My head drops back to the dirt as I burst into hysterical laughter, followed by the rest of the group, stepping out from behind the two brahmin they had used for a makeshift, fleshy, living barricade. After the mine scare, we kept moving, Dweller staying close to me as I periodically checked his Pip-Bucks map. “This is the place, just alongside these tracks.” I turn around, signalling the rest of the group to stop. “Here?” I hear cream soda yell out from behind the rest of the group. “Yea, we wait here ‘till the train carts come by, then we hitch a ride.” I reply as Dweller trots to the brahmin, taking the bags from their backs and setting them by the track. We don’t wait for too long before a cloud of dust quickly drifts down the rail line, accompanied by the sound of thunderous galloping. As the galloping gets louder, it begins to slow to a gallop and the cloud begins dissipate. Two dirty bucks carry a rusted, old train cart , barely held together as it violently shakes on its way down the line. “T-this is our ride?” Dweller turned towards me with fear in his eyes. I throw my foreleg around his neck and bring him closer to me. “That it is, my privileged friend. You are looking at the height of wasteland technology.” “The height of wasteland technology is a rusted deathtrap pulled on rails by two bucks?” I release my grip and begin to load the bags onto the train as it comes to stop just in front of us. “That it is.” From out of the corner of my eye, I could see brahmin, scattering. I snapped my head back to where they should have been standing to find Tail Fire handing bags to Cream Soda and Double Barrel. I threw the two bags I had already removed from the brahmin onto the train and ran to the two bucks pulling the train. They were filthy, more so than most wastelanders , with a black goo clotting their coats and chips in their hooves. They wore goggles and had all manner of leather and chains adorning their bodies, though it would seem to be for practicalitys sake over any kind of perverse pleasure, as their leather harness’ connected to the rusted train cart through long, dirty chains. “Hey, thanks for this. Either of you know when we should get there?” The yellow buck turned to me, raising his goggle to his forehead revealing two circles of clean hair around his tired, old eyes. “Well, if there ain’t any attacks or repairs to be done, we should get there around noon-ish.” “Thanks for that, pal.” I pat him on the back before he yells to me. “So, this means you and the big guy are even now, right?” “Oh, yea, yea, sure.” I nod my head, running back to the cart, where the group has already made themselves comfortable. I stand next to Tail Fire as she stares out the window. “Enjoying the view?” I try to make conversation, but am met with disinterested grunts. I lean closer to her, trying to see what she’s staring at. Her head snaps towards me as I see a red glint in the mountains above us. My eyes widen and I begin to stutter. “D-did you see that?” “See what?” I keep my gaze towards the mountains, my brain racing through the numerous possibilities of what it could have been. Raiders? Steel Rangers? An NLR patrol? It doesn’t matter now, the train is quickly building up speed and I can’t see anymore movement in the mountains. I finally snap my gaze from the mountains and shake my head, staring at my hooves before glancing up to see Tail Fire. “Nothing. It was nothing. Guess I must’a been seeing things.” I force a chuckle and walk to the back of the cart, where Dweller was already lying down, fiddling with his Pip-Buck as it spewed forth static from its cold, rusting speakers. I lie beside him and stare to the ceiling, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep. “What do you want?” I hear Dweller mutter even through the static. I turn to Dweller, looking up at him as he keeps staring at the device on his hoof. “What?” “What do you want? You were talking to Tail Fire and now you’ve come to me, what do you want?” “I want sleep, damn, why so touchy?” “I’m busy!” He finally looks away from the Pip-Buck to shoot me a look of burning anger. I scoot backwards and raise my hooves up as a sign of peace. “Sorry, man, I just-” Before I can finish my sentence, the static from his Pip-Buck cuts out and a message erupts from out of the white noise. A woman, soft spoken, sounds nice, old but filled with fear at the same time. “It’s going to be okay, Muffin, everything’s going to be fine just keep your head down.” It sounded like a warzone, behind her soothing tone, screams and muzzle fire could be heard. My mind was painting a picture far worse than the firefights I’d previously been privy to. I shuddered to think of the battle that ensued behind the cries of the child in the recording. “Just keep your head and remember that mommy loves yo-” That’s when it cut out, not the gunfire or screaming, but the voice, harshly followed by a thud and the child's cries erupting into a scream of pure terror. I was at a loss for words, all I could do was stare into Dwellers eyes as they began to slowly redden and fill with water. As I stood up to leave Dweller to himself he curled into a ball and faced the wall. I found Cream Soda and Double Barrel screwing around with the equipment to the front of the cart. “What the hell are you two doing?” Double Barrel looked up from the shotgun held like a baby in his arms. “Weapons check.” said whilst cocking the gun. I turned my head to Cream Soda, raising my eyebrow as I asked her. “And you?” She held her head low and stared at me through her bright blue mane, which had draped over her eyes. “Well, Double Barrel was just showing me proper gun maintenance and-” “All right, all right, fine.” I stopped her as her voice became higher and her eyes, glassy. I thought I was past making mares cry, guess I was wrong. I finally settle near the window adjacent to Tail Fire, I spend the rest of the journey staring out of the window. The journey was shorter than I expected, and we get to the facility as the sun descends from the Equestria skies. The train leaves as soon as our last bag is thrown from it. We sling the heavy bags over our backs and across our flanks, in the distance, we see the checkpoint, a small box on the horizon. The surrounding areas were empty. The usual bloatsprites, hell hounds and other abominations of the wasteland where nowhere to be seen. We count it as a blessing and set up a camp within the small checkpoint just outside of the facility. The checkpoint was a rusted mess of pre-war technology, damaged beyond repair a long time ago, except for a single terminal built into the wall below a wide, bulletproof window. We lay down our bags and I look to Dweller, tilting my head to the direction of the terminal. We both walk over to it and I blow the dust that had accumulated atop the terminals thick, green, glass screen. Dweller sneezes and gives me a perturbed expression, I pay no mind to his annoyance and lightly tap the terminal. “Fix it.” I pull a pair of binoculars from my saddlebags and take my place at Dwellers side, looking out through the window. The facility was a giant, beaten down box on the horizon. The four corners of the building held towers, also boxy and with large machine guns atop each of them. As I hear Dweller let out a victorious cheer, I see the machine guns droop, now disabled. I turn to Dweller and nod, he returns my nod and disappears in a brief glow from his horn and a puff of smoke. In the distance, I see a similar puff several feet above the the facility, and Dweller falls from it, landing on the roof of the building. As I run out of the checkpoint building, I call to the rest of the team. “C’mon! We gotta move!” I dart past faces contorted into confused expressions. As I begin to feel out of breath, I reach the doors. Massive, rusted, vault doors. As I slow to a stop, the main gear in the centre of the door begins to turn and the two metal flaps to the side of the door open, releasing the door to slowly lower as the rusted metal grinds against itself in a sharp screech. The rest of the team quickly catches up behind me as the door opens to reveal Dweller, waiting for us. I trot up to him, my head stooping from fatigue. In between breaths I say to him “I… didn’t know… you could ‘port.” He tries to hide a smirk by hanging his head low and muttering out “Yea, well…” I place my hoof on his head, scruffing his mane. I walk past him, and look around. The facility is pitch black. As Dweller fixes his mane I yell back to him. “Couldn’t get the emergency generators on line, huh?” My words echo through the blackness. Dweller replies. “Yea, just give ‘em a minute to kick in.” Deep into the facility, a light suddenly bursts to life with a loud bang, and then another and another. Dozens of rows of lights activate on the ceiling above, until a pale, sickly yellow light overtakes the atmosphere. I look on in awe at the vast emptiness laid out in front of me, and my team come to my side, doing the same. I feel a few words are in order. I clear my throat and speak. “Well then. Let’s get to work.”
