Fallout Equestria: The Badlands

Part 1: The Party

CHAPTER 1: THE BIG BOUNTY

“They still get to experience the thrill of discovering who they are, and what they're meant to be.”

Bzzt...crackle...bzzt…”-f you can hear this, please send help, we’re at coordina-”...bzzt… ”-ALLING ALL PEGASI! I REPEAT, WE ARE RECALLING ALL PEGASI! PLEASE FALL BACK! WE ARE CLOSING UP THE SK-” …bzzt...crackle… “mmphmphmph bumph umph umphumph” … bzzt… “ah, ah! You didn’t say the magic word! Ah, ah, ah! Ah, ah,” ...bzzt… bzzt… crackle… “...a joke. Or a story. This is real and I know that. Because I don't know where I am. Please. Please...” ...bzzt…

“Oh, give it a rest, Donks!” I shouted over to the bartender. He was indeed a donkey, and a balding grump of a donkey at that. “Ain’t nothing on but the usual talk shows!”

This garnered me a couple chuckles from my new drinking buddies, and a glare from Donks. The aging bartender just went back to fiddling with the knobs. The two bucks at my little table looked like they might have been around the Hoof once or twice, maybe even been some of those Reapers. Sadly, I could tell from their eyes that The Badlands would be breaking them within the week. Aw well, at least they looked the part.

“So, my fine gentlecolts, what are we drinking?”

“Buckweiser,” grunted the hot one with the piercings. “This place got anything hard?” asked Mr. Third Wheel. I grinned for a second, impressing myself with that clever nickname. Then I choked on my drink. Did he really just say that? And did I really just miss an opportunity to make a dick joke? Damn. I should probably slow down on these Wild P and Colas.

“Hey Donks! Four more Wild Pegasus and Sparkle Colas! Put it on my tab! Donks! MY TAB!” I turned back to Hot Flanks and Third Wheel, “He’s slower than molasses, but mixes drinks like nopony, errr, no one you’ll ever find!” I grinned my most winning-est grin I could. I think that’s what I was going for at least.“Unless, of course, you’ve been out to Flank. That Caprice makes a hell of a cocktail. Plus, her drinks ain’t bad either!” I leaned in and waggled my eyebrows, enjoying their attention. I really hoped it was because they were interested in more than free drinks and a laugh. There weren’t nearly enough adventurous bucks in the Wasteland to waste my time barking up the wrong tree. Although, I guess there were always a few mares...

Donks popped up right by our table and deftly slid off the five Wild P and Colas I ord-... wait… One, two, three, four… Oh well, more for me. Unless Hot Flanks was interested in loosening up a little, that is. Donks slipped back through the crowd towards his bar again.

“Alrighty, my fine bucks, these here are my specialty,” I said, pushing them each a drink. “I’d normally make them myself, but I tend to break the glasses after about ten of them.”

“What is it?” Hot Flanks asked cautiously, before taking a sip. Instantly, his frown, indeed his entire grumpy, gruff exterior, simply melted away with a satisfied sigh, followed by a wonderfully out of place hiccough. That certainly looked promising to me. I might be able to get in a good dicking after all.

“One part Wild Pegasus whiskey to two parts Sparkle Cola. Really bucks ya right upside the head, but without the burn. Plus, get this,” I leaned in and stage-whispered conspiratorially, “the carbonation gets ya’ drunker, faster. It’s an old Shot family secret.” Third Wheel took a sip himself, seemingly not quite trusting me. The sip turned into another and another, as he went wide-eyed, and started gulping it down. “Third Wheel” might be a tad bit mean, now that I think about it. Might move him up to “Sloppy Seconds”… I mean, he was kinda cute too, in a rugged sort of way. Kinda.

“These are fantastic!” Hot Flanks said finishing off his second, and plowing into his third. Wait, what? Aw, man! I wanted some... The things I do for tail… Third Whee- erm, Sloppy Seconds seemed to be trying to finish his second drink first. When did this turn into a race?

“Uh, guys, you might want to slow it down a bit. That stuff can really get to you-”

Fwhump, fwhump.

“... faster than you realize.” Dangit.

After “borrowing” some of their caps, I slipped a napkin with my room number into Hot Flanks’s pocket. I let them catch some shut-eye on the floor. Hope no one steps on ‘em. My ears were instantly drawn to the sound of a unicorn buck’s laughter. Maybe, just maybe. Wandering over, I noticed that he was built well, with pretty fine flanks, and… and he was checking out that waitress. I huffed. Not having any luck tonight. None at all.

Of course, I proceeded to check out that waitress, too. Sweet Celestia’s warm buttery nipples, what a body! I had a feeling that my mood for the night may have just shifted to the other team. And that takes some doing, lemme tell you! Cutting in front of Mr. Not-Interesting-Enough and Mr. Doesn’t-Stand-A-Chance, I asked her what she was drinking.

… bzzt … crackle… “ood evening, Wasteland! How’s it going this evening, my fine fillies and colts?”

I started as the buck’s deep and rich voice flooded the pub. I completely missed what the waitress had said. Was that…DJ Pon3?! Holy shit. We haven’t been able to get good reception this far south in years. He must have had another tower fixed or something.

“Uh, hold that thought, sweetheart,” I said, being as suave as I could while still totally blowing her off.

I weaved up to the bar, avoiding all of the light-weights staggering around. Huh, and I was only just starting to feel a buzz. Man, it sucks being expensive…

“We have news from out near Baltimare, and unfortunately for us good, honest folk,” the DJ sighed, “it’s not very good news.”

Slowly, people around the bar realized what was happening and started falling silent.

“I can now confirm, my little ponies, that The Fallen Hero has indeed fallen. That courageous mare did what she could, but it appears that the Wasteland has finally worn her down.”

By now, the only noise in the bar was coming from a booth in the back corner, where some plastered pirates were singing some shanty about what was going to happen to the drunken sailor. Ironic.

The Fallen Hero’s legend had been floating around even this little, out-of-the-way joint. When she had first popped up about a year and a half ago, she’d made a name for herself in the wasteland by decimating every raider she came across. The good ol’ DJ had given her the nickname “The Fallen Hero”. Honestly, he was just putting a nice spin on it. It was clearly just a Waster turning their revenge into a purge of the local wildlife. Definitely a stretch to call her a hero. Antihero, maybe?

“It appears that the initial reports of her death by raiders were a bit premature. Seems that she was captured as their prisoner, and only just managed to break free in the past couple of days.”

But, wasn’t the assault on that raider camp three months ago?! My mouth gaped. Weeks, months, being tortured by those sadistic bastards? I remembered that particular broadcast well, as it was one of the last one’s I’d heard in quite a while as I was traveling in the far northern parts of The Badlands.

“It seems she was put through too much and when she exacted her revenge, she ended up slaughtering a caravan and a nearby village. It is my sad duty to warn all of you fine folks to give her a wide berth if you happen to pass her out on the trails. She does appear to be headed south, and out of Equestria. So, to our Fallen Hero,”

here, the DJ paused to make a small sniffling noise,

“we salute you and remember the good that you did for all of those ponies; we will not remember you as another damn hero lost to the Wastes, but as one of the great ones, eternally fighting the good fight.”

The Fallen Hero was headed south from Baltimare? Hmm…

“This has been DJ PON3. Giving you the truth,” here the DJ paused once again with a small sigh, “no matter how bad it hurts.”

Damn, I knew it was too much to hope for, that she wouldn’t be broken like the rest.

“Into each liiiiife some raaaaain must faaaaaall…”, sang a soulfully-voiced mare. A long dead one, at that.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does, I guess,” I muttered as I put my head in my hooves.

“Why, the long face? Aren’t you at a party, Party? Can I get you a shot, Shot?” I looked up, past a bushy beard, at probably the only other bounty hunter in the room that could actually stand his ground in a fight. And the only other one that would crack such bad jokes.

“How’s it been, Yawn?” I asked him, going in for that perfect semi-awkward bro hug, with exactly two back pats. “Haven’t seen you since you left for that one job out in Stalliongrad. Did your fake accent get any better?”

“I’ve beeeen doing prehtty alriiight, PS, accent ees much behtter,” the earth pony replied, with an attempted Stalliongrad accent. Huh, I guess it was getting a little bit better. You could almost pretend that he might have visited Stalliongrad at some point. That’s a step in the right direction, I suppose.

“I’m guessing you heard the news from PON3,” I asked. Yawn nodded. “And we both know that that means that she’s probably going to be heading through The Pass pretty soon.” Yawn nodded again. “And you know that somepony’s going to be putting out a bounty for her. Just like they always do for those types of heroes.”

Yawn went to nod once again, but paused, scratching his beard while he thought something over in his head.

“Yeah, but I don’t think that we can take her down with just the two of us. Like it or not,” he said, “we’re going to need some help.”

I scowled at the yellowish-tan buck, as he lightly smoothed down his beard again. “You know how much I hate playing nice with others,” I pointed out. “And you know I only tolerate you ‘cause you are one of few that can drink me under the table.”

“Okay, ouch,” he replied, looking a tad bit hurt. I instantly felt bad about saying that, but would never be caught dead admitting it. “Well, I think we can make do with just one more pony, and I just so happen to have somepony in mind.” He got down from the bar, as did I, and he led me across the room, through the press of sweaty pony bodies.

“Please be hot, please be hot, please be hot,” I chanted under my breath.

“Sorry, Shot. He’s even straighter than me.”

“But.. butbutbut… you’re *painfully* straight.” I whined. (Or was I complaining?)

“Yeah, well, he’d probably pass out if you made a pass at him,” Yawn replied with a wry grin on his face.

“Is that a challenge?” I asked with a goofy grin on my face.

“Yeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhh, no. Let’s not and say we didn’t,” said a midnight blue unicorn buck to my immediate left. I leapt half out of my skin.

“Don’t do that, jeez! That just burnt off my buzz…” I commented, looking down flustered, while doing my best to look indignant instead.

I took a second to get a good look at him though. I thought I recognized him from somewhere, but I couldn’t quite place it. He had a firm, yet softer sounding voice. His charcoal mane with a white skunk-like stripe through it, certainly caught my eye, as did his piercing, sparkling blue eyes. Couldn’t see his cutie mark from here, and I certainly wasn’t going to make a scene trying to sneak a peek at his rear end. Hmm. Nope, still can’t place him. Maybe I’ve worked with him before?

As he reached back into his saddle bags, I gave into the temptation and caught a glance at his cutie mark. A lit lightbulb over crossed wrenches? Huh, still nothing.

Turning back around, he extended his hoof. “Nightfall.”

“Parting Shot,” I replied in kind, bumping his outstretched hoof. “I’d love to see what goodies you got and hear your tale, but we should probably go. Like right now.” His confused look was shared by Yawn, as well. I lowered my voice, “I’m guessing that you two didn’t notice those rowdy drunk sailors are awfully sober-looking and quiet now. I’m not testing my luck with them, in here at least. Let’s get going.” I started heading towards the door. “Anyway, my stuff is already pre-packed.”

Donks navigated the crowd of ponies as if he were swimming. It was a neat trick. He came up to me and handed me my tab for the evening. Ugh. How did I manage to spend nearly 400 caps tonight? The bartender then handed me a contract. As suspected, it was for the head of the Fallen Hero. How does he always do that? I glanced down, taking in the details. Wanted dead, no surprises there. Take care of it away from innocents, of course. And the backer was offering a bounty of...

“WHOAH!” I gasped, far louder than I meant to. “Who in the hoof is backing this, Donks?!” I loudly asked him, gaining curious looks from my two companions. As well as probably half the rest of the bar.

“First off, ‘Donks’ isn't my name. How many times do I have to tell you that?” the bartender rasped. Quite a lot, apparently. “And second, this client has specifically requested to remain strictly anonymous.” I always hated the anonymous clients. There was just something creepy about it. It always gave me the thought of some shadowy pony, plotting a murder most foul in some evil castle, half lit up by a flash of lightning. Their pay tended to be the best, though. And frankly, their jobs are usually the most fun.

“Fine, be that way. You keep your secrets,” I grumbled as we started to leave, hoping that Donks failed to notice that I hadn’t paid my tab again. I swear, he lets me do it. One of these days he’s probably going to slam me with interest. Celestia help me when he does.

As I passed by Hot Flanks and the Other One, I heard my original target for the evening ask from the floor, with a pretty heavy slur of course, where “my hot flanks” were going. Dang it, I FUCKING KNEW IT! Yet another chance blown to get myself blown. Aw well, there’s always next time.

“HOW MUCH?!” shrieked Nightfall.

“I know, right?! Twenty. Four. Thousand. Caps.” I enunciated slowly. “That’s one of the biggest bounties I’ve ever heard of. I’d be afraid of actually having that many caps on me at any one time.”

“Hey, you know what? It divides nicely, too,” added Nightfall. “That’s eight grand for each of us!”

My grin disappeared, and was replaced with a scowl as I got right up in his face and glared down at him. He started backing up. “Are you saying you think that you can actually do a third of the work? That you don’t think that us more veteran bounty hunters deserve a little more cut?” I asked in a dangerously low voice. He continued backpedaling, and fell onto his rump.

He gulped as he looked up at me. “Um… uh…” he stammered.

“Huh?! What was that, Night Light?” My voice rose.

“Uh... uh… Yes, sir! I mean, no sir. Um…” he finally blurted out, sweating heavily.

My scowl instantly turned into a bright grin as I extended a hoof to pull him up. “Excellent! Great to have ya!” Yawn just started guffawing through his beard. Or with his beard. Whatever.

“ ‘What was that, Night Light?’ That was great. Classic Potty shenanigans!” he roared. “I thought he was going to wet himself!”

“Hardy fucking har har…” muttered the clearly embarrassed unicorn, as he brushed himself off.

“Aw, don’t take it so personal, Nighty-Night,” I lightly teased. “If I didn’t think you had it in you, I wouldn’t have even left the bar with you.” Wait, shit… Yawn’s hearty laugh renewed for a few more seconds. Surprisingly, Nightfall blushed harder than I did at my unintended wording.

“Yeah, see?” I asked, slightly annoyed, gesturing with a hoof at the bearded buffoon. “We do this every time we work together.” I smiled. “Makes me actually look forward to the harder bounties. That and I might actually get a bullseye with this one.”

He side-glanced at me, unsure of what I was talking about, cautiously alert for another trick. I trotted ahead a little bit, so he could get a look at my cutie mark, a black white target, made up of three rings of black and rings of white around a central black circle. There were several dozen small red dots all over the target.

“See, I found this nifty magic marker in a stable a few years back. Not really sure what it was supposed to be for, but I use it for marking my targets. The closer the dot is to the center, the higher the score, the more difficult the target was.” I paused. “You’ll notice that I don’t have any bullseyes yet.” Nightfall nodded. “That just means that I have yet to find a target truly worthy of my skills. I’ve come close a few times, usually when one of the DJ’s pet “heroes” doesn’t have the fortune or decency to die peacefully when they fall.” My enthusiasm drained right out of me, replaced by a sudden and intense melancholy. I bowed my head and trotted softly away for a little bit, calming myself in front of the noobie, before coming back over to him.

“Sometimes, I wished PON3 would just stop broadcasting and shut the fuck up. It makes it really difficult for people like me. Having to pull the trigger on a face showing that much pain, turmoil, rage, confusion… and behind those haunting eyes… not a bit of hope left in them… their light extinguishing itself before I even pull the trigger… It just…” I sighed, turning away from him again, and sat down. “It’s not pleasant.”

I turned back to face him. “I hope you’re ready for that, Night. I really do. ‘Cause we can’t afford it if you’re not.” I turned back away from him again. “They used to be called heroes for a reason, and it was almost always because they were nigh unbeatable in a fight.”

We started walking again, headed to my apartment on the second floor exterior of The Staging Point Tavern. As one of the well-paying regulars, I’d earned myself a room in the old motel part of the place. As we passed by a few of the first floor rooms on the way to the staircase, you could clearly hear the sounds of more than a few slapping flanks. These particular rooms had been converted into a brothel of sorts. Someone had even knocked down some of the walls to combine a couple rooms into one large play house of horny fun. Never liked the place myself. I’m a flirt, so stuff like that sucks the fun out of it all.

As we started climbing the stairs, I noticed that Nightfall was blushing from the sound. You’d think he’d never heard it before. “You alright there, Nightlight? You’re blushing bright enough to glow in the dark,” I teased, as we got to the top of the stairs. He somehow blushed a little harder, adding a scowl to his face, but otherwise didn’t say anything. This kid’s not gonna be much fun if we can’t get him to relax a bit, I thought. He’s wound far too tight for his own good.

After putting a few more doors’ worth of rooms between us and the rut huts, we finally got to my apartment, number 219. “Welcome to my humble abode!” I said a bit prematurely, fumbling with the lock. Stupid key. “I mean, welcome to my… One second, nearly got it.” The lock finally clicked, and I put the key ring back in its pocket on my barding. “Right. So now, welcome to my humble abode!” I said proudly, while gesturing broadly with my outstretched wings and forehooves.

“It’s… nice,” said Nightfall, hesitatingly. My wings and arms fell a bit. Eh, I guess I agreed with him on that one. It was nothing to write home about, even if this weren’t your home and paper wasn’t so damn hard to come by.

My apartment consisted of two large beds, a small couch, a desk, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. I’ve been told that my suite is better than most of the rest of the apartments, but I still think it kind of sucked tailhole.

“Feel free to use that bed to get your stuff together,” I said, pointing to the one closest to the door. “Don’t touch my bed or you’ll mysteriously wind up with a broken nose,” I threatened, pointing at the other bed. The sheets and blanket were all bunched up at the foot of the bed, with the pillows thrown halfway across the room.

Yawn checked left and right along the balcony before shutting and locking the door. Seeing him in better light, the big earth pony stallion looked a bit older than I remembered him being. Premature aging does tend to happen in the Wasteland, especially to those of us who actively seek out trouble. His ragged coat seemed to have a few more wicked scars and his beard, which used to match his brown mane, was now decidedly streaked through with some grays and whites. His bright orange eyes, though, were just as intense as ever. I liked to imagine that eyes like ours were one of the more terrifying things to see in your final moments. Of course, my green eyes weren’t nearly as bright. They definitely didn’t shimmer like a flame like his. It was like staring through little windows into a fiery hellscape whenever he got worked up. I swore they became actual blazes whenever he got right pissed off. One thing’s for sure though, Yawn could still kick my ass so I was definitely not going to point out his aging. Probably.

“So Parts, how much time do you reckon we have to get to The Pass?” asked Yawn, with a yawn and a wave of his hoof in a roughly north-ish direction. The Pass was the only easy route to take between The Badlands and Equestria. At places, it was only just wide enough to have four ponies walking side by side. In total, it was maybe 3 miles long. Most of it was surrounded by nearly sheer rock walls with little ledges littered all over it. Plenty of places for spying and sniping.

“I’d say about three days, maybe more depending on if she’s slowed down by injuries or any attacks on the way. Luckily, it’s less than two days' travel to get there by hoof.” I laid back on my bed and closed my eyes. “Hey Yawn, do you remember that sniping spot I found a few months back? The one we used to quickly take out that one caravan from?” The mention of that job seemed to stir something in Nightfall, but I ignored it when Yawn nodded an affirmative. “We can lay low there and scope her out. Better bring double the usual rations.” A sudden thought made me brighten up. “If we get there quick enough, there should be some time for us to get hammered. Yawn, pack an extra few bottles of Wild P!”

“What do you mean ‘extra bottles’? You already packed some?” asked the incredulous Nightfall.

“Of course I did. I never go anywhere without at least one bottle of the stuff. You’d be surprised at how useful some good liquor is,” I explained.

At his skeptical look, Yawn added, “You can use it to sterilize wounds if you’re running low on potions. It also works well as a full body anesthesia if ya’ need to dig a bullet out of somepony.”

“Don’t forget that it’s also just plain fun to drink!” I added with a grin. My grin faded as I shrugged, “But once a job starts, you better damn well be sober. I never take on a mark unless I am.” My grin returned. “Of course, that doesn’t stop me when I’m not on the job!”

“Fucking alcoholic” muttered Yawn.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” I retorted.

“At least I don’t get smashed off my flank from only a couple dozen drinks, ya lightweight!”

“Yawn, you big idiot, to you everypony’s a lightweight! You could out-drink a dragon,” I returned. Grins slowly creeped across our muzzles.

“Ya, well, at least I can read!”

“Motherbucker, you know perfectly well that I can read, you shaved buffalo!” Our grins were now covering our faces.

“Your mother was a radhog, and your father smelt of elder- OOF!” Before he could finish, I tackled him to the floor. While a bemused Nightfall looked on, I got Yawn into a headlock. For such a large, muscular buck, he was pretty bad at hoof-to-hoof combat. We both started laughing our asses off, Nightfall’s chuckling joining in.

I looked up at the blue pony, a little sheepishly.

“You are very weird, and I can barely believe you’re actually bounty hunters,” Nightfall said. Realizing how blunt and hurtful that had come up, he tried backpedaling. “Well, I guess, what I meant was… uh… is that you’re unique in your methods? Uh… you definitely still are… um…are the toughest Waster ponies in town.” He gestured vaguely at the two of us on the floor. “And you certainly, uh… got the moves?” he added hesitantly.

Slightly winded, Yawn added between breaths, “...got the… mojo…”

“No harder working ponies around!” I agreed, accepting the olive branch from the flustered new guy. “Look, you need to relax, kid. You’re hunting with the best. And we’re all wastelanders here, right? So lose the awkward, walking on eggshells routine. You’re acting like you were sent to the headmaster’s office.” I put a hoof on his shoulder. “You’re only going to make it through this kind of life by being yourself out there. You won’t have the time to devote to putting on this mask of who you think we want you to be.” Yawn belched. “Exactly my point, my good gentle pony!

“Look, I need you to be 100% you, 100% of the time, cuz’ we need 100% of you watching our backs. Don’t distract yourself by playing dress up,” I added, gesturing at his armored barding, “Don’t play the part, be it.”

I took a breath, for dramatic effect, then extended my hoof towards Night. “So. Last chance, my buck. What’ll it be? Are you in…” I glanced over at Yawn, as he put his hoof on top of mine. We both looked at the blue stallion. “...or are you out?”

Searching his eyes, I could see the uncertainty and hesitation. But then, something changed deep within those deep pools of blue. He confidently put his hoof in, with a determined nod.

“GREAT!”

“So PS, when are we leaving?” the tan stallion asked as he plopped himself back down on my floor, pulling a comic book out of nowhere, and casually leafing through it. It seemed to be about crabs attacking from space, or some nonsense. “I’m going to need at least thirty to get my gear ready.”

“Right, we’ll leave as soon as you get back,” I decided. “Alrighty, Nighty,” I grinned at the rhyme, but kept talking. “You have half an hour to meet back here. Hopefully you won’t need me to hold your hoof while you’re packing, will you?”

“Oh stuff it…” he muttered, as he just left and trotted towards the stairs. “That’s the general idea,” I called after him. Yawn rolled over, stashing the comic book somewhere. He got up following Nightfall out the door, nabbing a bottle of Buckweiser off my desk, deftly popping off the cap and draining half of it in one gulp.

“Ugh, it still tastes like donkey piss.” He turned and hollered in the general direction of the bar, “NO OFFENSE!” Turning back to me, “You’d think that I’d be used to the taste of beer by now…” he muttered as he headed to his room, number 225.

I heard his door slam shut, realizing that once again, I had to get up and shut my door myself. How many times have I told him to close my door when he leaves, damnit!

I climbed back atop my bed and lay on my side, staring down at my cutie mark. Now, the room was empty and quiet.

“Two hundred seventy-three. Two hundred seventy-three lives snuffed out. One hundred forty-seven ponies. Sixty-six zebra. Fifty-two griffins. Five donkeys. Two mules. One zonkey.” I sighed as I pulled out a red marker. The item was magically enchanted to permanently stain my coat, even over a cutie mark. “Actually, make that one hundred forty-nine ponies.” I snapped open the lid and added two more dots on the outer ring. Then I rolled over and added identical marks to the other side. “Two hundred seventy-five.” I had nearly forgotten about the two scavengers that had tried to jump me on my way to the Tavern earlier. Damn fools shouldn’t have been running with knives. Especially in the direction of a clearly armed waster. Would have let them go if they hadn’t decided to be racist little fucks about my wings… The tiny bit of anger at the memory boiled itself away. “Right. So. It’s two hundred seventy-five. Two hundred seventy-five lives snuffed out. One hundred forty-nine ponies. Sixty-six zebras. Fifty-two griffins. Five donkeys. Two mules. One zonkey.”

Sighing, I recapped the magic marker, and returned it to my saddle-bags. Then I lay back down, staring at the ceiling. That’s funny, I thought. My vision’s going all blurry again. Hate when that happens.

I closed my eyes. Lost in thought, my mind drifted, without a single life vest in sight.

I was relieved when Yawn burst in a half hour later, instantly breaking my mood. Behind him came Nightfall.

I hopped off my bed and onto my hooves, and began strapping my armored barding on. “Ready to go then, my bucks?” I asked cheerily, moving on to my saddle bags.

They both nodded and checked their own straps.

“Alright, you ready for some fun, Nighty?” I asked the blue unicorn.

“Fun?” Nightfall asked, with a slight tilt of his head. “You mean the hike out to the Pass?”

“Nah. I’m guessing you’ve forgotten about those pirates from the tavern, then. They were definitely watching us, as they followed us out when we left.”

“Aye, I think I spotted them hiding behind the other side of the building, when I glanced out a window while heading back over to your room,” added Yawn.

“Huh. I guess I missed that,” admitted Nightfall, a little embarrassed

I threw a hoof across his shoulders. “Eh, don’t worry about it. They’re obviously pretty good at being sneaky. Just not as good as we are.” Yawn grinned in agreement, his beard twitching a little bit.

It didn’t take too much effort to get past the thugs, though, and about five minutes later we were trotting down the road next to the old rails, heading west. We chatted and laughed together at how we had embarrassed those pirate idiots. Nightfall knocking one of them out cold from a well-placed groin shot especially tickled our fancies. But talk died down as the hours started to roll past. None of us had any illusions about what we were heading out to do and the price that it might cost us.

After another couple of hours, we arrived at a junction. Taking a right at this crossroads would take us north, straight to our destination.

Suddenly remembering DJ PON3’s broadcasts were back, I dug my great-grandfather’s PipBuck out of my pack with my wings. I stopped and sat in the middle of the worn out roads, fiddling with its knobs and dials until I finally got to the radio menu. I then fiddled some more until I finally found the right station. Stupid technology, being all hard for no good reason.

Sweetie Belle’s voice poured out of the PipBuck’s little speaker as I put it back in my saddlebag, on top of everything else. It didn’t really muffle the sound too much, thankfully, so we could enjoy a little traveling music. It wasn’t really an ideal way to carry it, but I didn’t really have any other options. I definitely didn’t have the tools or know how to put it on, and I wasn’t wasting any rope on lashing it to the outside of my saddlebags or anything.

“Where did you get that?” asked Nightfall, curiously, as he came over to sit next to me. “And why aren’t you wearing it?” He poked at it through the tough material of my saddlebags.

“It was my great-grandfather’s. My father took it off of his body when he died, but didn’t really have any way of opening it to put it on his own hoof. And neither do I, even after all of this time, not that I haven’t tried.” I glanced at him sheepishly. “I don’t suppose you happen to be a certified StableTec Pipbuck Engineer?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he replied. “It takes a very specific tool that you’d have to get from a nearly intact Stable or something.” He added thoughtfully, “Although, I did see one come through the caravan I used to guard, before...” His face changed abruptly to a rather stoic mask, betraying nothing, as his voice trailed off.

Oookay. Angsty back story alarms were going off in my head. Whiny ponies never lasted for long in the Wasteland. I waved it off, “Aw well, I’ve been looking for years, so no biggie. Still makes for a good map. Radio, too, at least when we’re in range of something.”

Sweetie Belle ended her sweet, sweet crooning, just before a sultry, sexy Sapphire Shores took over with a little tune of her own.

His change in mood seemed to kill the possibility of conversation for a while. By the time the sun started setting, I was ready to physically yell and shout, do anything until the virtual silence was driven back. Being quiet meant that we were being boring, er bored. Damnit… And I HATED being bored!

Interestingly, I had made a realization a couple hours in, and it was the distinct lack of DJ PON3’s strong sure voice. He must really be torn up about this latest hero. Poor buck. If his voice was any indication, I’d gladly be there to comfort him… I shook that idea from my head. Not now, Parting. You’re working, I told myself.

Another hour of trotting got us to one of my hidden campsites. Ok, ok, so it wasn’t really that well hidden, but just camouflaged from travelers’ eyes and a ways back from the road. Wasn’t much of a campsite either. Oh well…

We all curled up under the worn enchanted camo, hoping that when the sun rose again, it wouldn’t get too hot out here. The desert, even this late in the year, was still burning hot during the day, especially around noon. As resident newbie, we made Nightfall keep first watch. Sometimes it’s good to have newbies, I thought as my body slowly shut down, and my brain turned off. It didn’t take too long for me to conk out all the way.

My dreams were the usual amalgam of re-living various firefights and having my bounties rise from the dead to hunt me down. Pleasant stuff. I preferred those dreams as compared to some of the other ones that I’ve had. Taking out an innocent always seemed to bother me more in my sleep than I’d like to admit. The colts and fillies were the worst, always seeming to haunt my dreams, lurking in the shadows, and softly calling out for their mamas and their papas as their blood poured out onto the dusty ground. Why must sleeping suck so much in the Wasteland?

I awoke a few hours before dawn to Nightfall shaking me. “Oh god, what is it? Are we being attacked? Robbed? Is there a spider on my face? Get it off! Is it blue and pulsing? GET IT OFF!”

The unicorn shook his head and replied that he simply couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and just wanted me to take over on watch. I grumbled something about colts these days, but quietly traded places with him.

Man, he wasn’t kidding, I thought as he started lightly snoring within a few seconds of lying down. Lucky buck. I could tell that he hadn’t quite experienced what the Wasteland could truly dish out, but clearly he probably had an inkling from whatever it is that he’s running from. I had a feeling that when the time came, he’d be able to take it. He gave off this sense of quiet strength, but his fear and pain still shone through the cracks.

I shrugged. Well, whatever his story, I’m sure he picked up some training somewhere along the way. He seemed pretty comfortable in a fight. I was hoping his cutie mark meant that he’d be pretty good at repairing stuff. Without fail, every single mission I went on, one of my weapons would break or I’d fire a dud or my saddlebag would get a tear. My luck always seemed to improve a little bit when I was hunting with Yawn, but we still always had stuff break on us.

Taking out one of the bottles of Wild Pegasus, I took a sip. As I took another sip, or three, I accidentally dropped the cap. Picking myself up, I trotted over to where it had rolled, behind a small rock. Bending down to pick it up, I blinked in a moment of brief confusion.

Buh-hwah? Shining up at me was a small pile of pre-war coins. Where in the hay did those come from? Scooping them up into my saddle bags, I glanced over at Nightfall’s sleeping form. “I wonder…” I muttered to myself, returning to my post. I leaned against the tent pole, and took a final sip, or two, from the bottle of whiskey. I put it back into my saddlebags and patiently, sort of, waited for the sun. There was nothing like seeing the sun rise in the desert. It was the single biggest thing that I missed whenever I had to take jobs up north in the Equestrian Wastes. It was enough to make a buck think that there might actually be a higher power out there. Of course, if there were, I was pretty rightly screwed.

Footnote: Level Up!

New Perk: Life of the Party! - The number of alcoholic beverages and/or chems required to cripple your head is now doubled. You are also now unable to be addicted to alcohol. This does not affect the chance for addiction to anything else. This drink, I like it! Another!

New Quest Perk: Big Game Hunter - Critical shots from Small Guns do twice as much damage against your target if you have an active contract against them. Dead or alive.

Quest Note: Companion (Yawn) joined your party

Quest Note: Companion (Nightfall) joined your party

New Companion Perk: CMCBFF4EVER! (Lvl 1) - While having a third companion, each member of your party instantly has their Luck attribute increased by 1 point. You are now able to fast travel as a party when any or all members are overburdened, up to a total carry weight of 300% of your party’s combined maximum carry weight. Three little ponies united by a common goal, huh? Where have you heard that one before?

LAST UPDATED: 10/14/2024

Author's Note

Notes from the Author:

Thanks for taking the time to give this relative train wreck a chance. I just hope that I don’t get written into a corner at some point! I’ve got big plans for this fic, so please, please, please stay tuned for more from our trio.

A big thank you goes out to my editor SkyDreams. You should totally check out his side story, Fallout Equestria: Pariahs.

I am always open to constructive criticism and pointers. Send me an email to firenvygames (at) gmail (dot) com with “FoE: The Badlands” in the subject and I’ll be glad to hear you out.

This story is a work of fiction based on Fallout Equestria by Kkat, which is itself based on both My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (mostly seasons 1 and 2) and the entire Fallout series of games. This story is also heavily inspired by Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons by Somber and Fallout Equestria: Murky Number Seven by Fuzzy. Basic knowledge of the source material is recommended. All works belong to their respective owners.

-With love and bullets, FIReNVY