Fallout Equestria: Neigh Orlean nights

by Jadders

Rating: mature
Tags: Original Character, Adventure, Crossover, Sex, Human, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other
Length: 6271

[HiE fic, first story, Shameless horrible self insert, Criticism happily welcomed] When a Human is dropped into the hellish landscape of the wasteland, he must band together a not so merry group of friends to try and find his way home

War.
War never changes.

Neigh Orleans, once the proud party and carnival capitol of the land of Equestria is now a shell of its former self. Situated in the south eastern part of the wasteland, it holds a majority of the coast and from when it used to deliver drunken stupors and unforgettable highs, it now delivers some of the least mutated fish in the wasteland.
Where once young of fillies and colts frequented to have the time of their lives, it is now a hustling and bustling center for mercenaries and raiders.
Pony, Griffon, and Diamond dog you name it, they all live here.
But now a Human has been dropped into the mix and it will take all of his mental and physical strength just to try and find his way home and out of this hell hole of a world.

Published 2014-03-20 16:40:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-21 23:39:17 UTC

Prologue: We built this city

War

War never changes

The great Equestrian-Zebrican war left the world in a swirling vortex of death and disarray for the better half of two centuries. When civilization started to return in the form of small settlements and towns in the ashes of the old world, many of Equestria's previous hot spots and thriving hub cities became nothing more that hives for scum to find the next lucky kill or meal. maybe even both at the same time.

One such city, was the once great party destination of Neigh Orleans.
This previous home to thousands was built in the time where Equestria was starting to thrive, and the demand for more living space in a small area was growing at an unprecedented rate. On the fateful day when the world was consumed, destroyed and re-birthed in a few hours, the bale fire bomb aimed at the main centre of the city by a mile, hitting the northern dockyards and ports, effectively eradicating that 1 cubic mile of land from existence forever. This is not what dammed the proud carnival fuelled town.

The subsequent weather that year was rough, and fires from the bomb were pushed down into the many residential blocks of the south quadrant, and those who were not lucky enough to be incinerated by the blast, we're quickly consumed by the ensuing fire storm.
This started a chain reaction leading to most of the surviving citizens of the southern sectors, flee the city itself or to try and hide in the underground Stables, underground havens for those who could afford such the luxury of safety, situated in a few hidden back ally ways as not to draw too much attention from the drunken party goers in their alcohol induced stupor.

Now 150 years after that blight on the worlds history, the descendants of the hub have come back in droves returning and repopulating with their own 'twist' on what is now modern life.
Packed and squashed in housing has now become a free-for-all area for mercenaries and raiders alike, making the once party hot spot into a hive of wretched scum and villainy.

Gangs started to sprout up, vying for rule of the ruins of the New port, the slums, and the recently 'refurbished' rich sectors. Traders quickly set up routes from other towns and settlements across the wasteland, wanting to give precious goods for a food source which was considered the least foul and tainted. Fish.

For a while the gangs warred, having receiving the salvaged weapons from the delicacy hungry traders, and once again the city was plunged into violence. That is until the Queens reared their ugly heads.

Headed by their nameless leaders and Dressed in their signature purple plate armour, The Queens quickly poured in, their own citizens and settlers involving themselves in the boiling gang violence, threatening to spill out past the city and into the wastes itself.

With the promise of ending the legendary gang wars of Neigh Orleans, The Queens placed checkpoints and guarded each of the cities more ravenous areas. Most though, think this is nothing more than a façade, a way to cash in on the new supply of food while disposing of the fighting gangs by creating a war on their own terms.

And War

War never changes.

Monday.

I'm guessing that you are pretty much like me, and despise this dreaded day with as much volition as I do.

The problem is not the day itself, it's more for me the people around me on that day. I'm not gonna sugar coat it sister, but I am a recluse. Someone who would rather stay in and talk to friends who live possibly thousands of miles away on Skype, then go to the pub for one or two drinks with real friends.

Don't ask me why, I don't even know myself.

Anyway, people the night before go on booze ups, trying to make that precious weekend last a couple more minutes longer. This causes, you guessed it! some grouchy ass bastards the morning after on that oh so lovely Monday.

What did make me a grouchy ass bastard right now was things breaking, and the sound from downstairs gave off a noise that was extremely similar to a glass falling over off the side and meeting its untimely fate with the floor.

So, lying in bed, I have to think why did mum put on the washing machine in the morning again... But alas, she was probably in a rush with dad as to avoid the morning squash in the tube networks.

Okay John. Get. Out. Of. Bed.

I could just go back to sleep... the teachers know me anyway, so they wont mind me missing just one lesson... will they?

No! Mum and Dad will go fucking berserk if they find out that your attendance isn't at least 90% so come on, get your lazy arse out of bed and get down stairs. There's left over Chinese anyway

Ok, if that last point wasn't the right amount of get-the-fuck-outta-bed-material, then the first one sent a deadly chill down my spine.
Hell hath no fury like an overworked Mother's. So, getting out of bed I saw myself in the Teen sized mirror opposite the bed. If my chubby body didn't give it away, then the dark rings under my scrunched up did. i. was. tired.
Okay, one leg out, next leg out of the bed. now stand up!
Ok! step one of the day over, get out of the bed: done!

Now with my feet firmly planted on the blue carpeted floor after a few seconds of trying to balance myself, I stood at my full height, I got a grand view of myself in the accursed mirror. standing at around 5'11 and with a slightly overweight body, people had constantly said "oh, you'll even out!" but no, I got taller and the chubby belly stayed prouder than ever. What I did need was a haircut, with the current dew getting to just above my eyes. given the pasty white skin, with what some would consider to be almost feminine looks for a boy. That last point, yeah it got me some pretty great comments.

My mood was improving a little since the first opening of my eyes.
I like to think of myself as a kind person at heart, someone that is easy to get along with and that you can find just one thing in common with. For 17 years I have enjoyed my life to its fullest extent, my family helping by instilling a sense of adventure in me by travelling the world whenever we could. What I don't like to admit, is that i am a wimp. A coward, someone who is afraid of the simplest of things. I need a kick start to get me out of this habit now, as this Trait of my mine has left me ruts that I cant figure out, its doesn't help when my closest set of friends are lively and bloody insane. I find it hard to understand when they're joking or when they are being deadly serious. It causes me to freeze up at points, not being able to speak and I just sit there in an awkward mess.
Again, it doesn't help that i bottle myself in, not allowing most emotions apart from happiness and excitement to escape. Most of the time when something annoying happens or I get angered, I just take it and move on, not caring for what was just said. Most of the time I do that. It's what lead me into the Art world, a way for me to truly express myself and in the end you had one standard Art & Design college student, ready for the world to throw whatever it could at him.

Speaking about an Art student, my room reflected it. Cloths strewn all over my side of the room, with the odd tissue here or there. My single bed tucked away in the corner was opposite by a TV, some consoles and my brothers bed which was the same red stripped pattern as my own. My brother had drawn the dark blue curtains on the two windows in the room, one above my bed and one opposite his and I dared not touch them, as he treasures his own precious equilibrium in the room. Seeing that he was not present, I remembered that everyone leaves the house at around 7 in the morning for work, leaving me alone for the next few hours and drawing the first of the days grin to my face as lessons started at 9:00 AM.

Checking the phone next to my pillow, i saw that it was 8:42 AM.

Fuck.

Rushing to my bedroom door I did the dance of my life along the way, flinging my Pyjama's off and whipping on my jeans'n'green T-shirt combo, not caring if I wore them the day before.
A took a quick glance into my parents room as I stumbled down the spiral carpeted staircase, knocking my shoulder into the wall and hissing in pain as i sprinted to my fridge in the kitchen, only to trip over something as I came through the white framed door. If the fall didn't hurt, it was the belly flop on the various shards of glass on the PVC floor. I had landed just in front of the knee high white cupboards which contained the various plates that my family had collected over the years. It felt like nothing had pierced into the skin of my stomach and chest so I guess the pain of the multiple shards of glass poking and almost ripping into me was the first thing to deal with on top of the dull throbbing in my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, and scrunching my eyes tight, i mentally prepared myself for just a tad more pain as I turned over slowly onto my unhurt shoulder, which so happened to be my right, and flipped onto my back as elegantly as a sloth high on LSD.

Staring up at the ceiling, I took a brief second to contemplate life, its complexities and the universe as a whole. Well, I may or may not have emptied my lungs in a single shout as I let the situation wash over me. Yeah I contemplated some philosophical bullshit lets roll with that. I was so caught up in my 'thoughts' that it took me a second or two to notice the other voice in the room.

"Boy! you do scream loudleh, whatever in the name of Tatarus you are..."

Taking my tear filled eyes off the ceiling and down to where the voice had come from, I would let my eyes bulge from their sockets in a comical fashion but one particular point of glass was digging into my back, and ruining my shirt in the process.

What greeted my eyes was what could only be described as a 'what the hell moment'
Beak? Check!
Wings? Of course!
Body of what looked like a.. lion? 5 stars to whoever shouted that out!

It was a fucking Griffon, and if I could discern anything from its face, and the not so nice look if was giving me, it had been in some sort of brutal fight. If the Scar running down its left cheek and across its beak wasn't the tell tale sign it was the fact that its body, which currently was standing on its hind legs against the open door causally smoking a.. cigarette?, was covered from head to claw with several layers of leather Armour and the odd piece of plate metal here or there.
From what I see of its fur and plumage, the wings and main body were a chestnut colour, while its white feathers seemed to have a tint of gold on the end, the Feathers on its head was a dark steel, each small feather ended in a light navy. What drew me the most to its overly expressive face, considering it had a beak, were its eyes. One a shinning grass green and the other being a cloudy orange. Its pose against the door, front arms crossed and its hind legs up into a standing position gave the impression that it didn't care what happened, and the way its eyes looked at me was with abject curiosity while its beak curled up into a subdued smile.
This thing was in control, and I was in its sights.

I think I had the most logical reaction.

"aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

I scrambled back not caring for my palms being cut on the glass under me, staining the pale purple floor a light tinge of red. Slamming against the Cupboards I looked at it with frantic eyes, it currently giving me the look of what I could only guess as extreme irritation.
"Is that how yer kind talks? huh?" Its voice dripping with annoyance and an unmistakable American accent, still filled with youth but with the husk of a chain smoker "in screams n' shouts? cus' if thats the case, I might just shoot you, take whats here and fly off on back to the city" Brandishing what appeared be a small shotgun, it emphasized its point by gesturing it in my direction. Hold on John... Its a he, His had a male tone to it. Letting out a puff of smoke through the holes in its beak (nostrils maybe?) I watched the cinders cascade down from the lit end and past the puffed out chest armour, going-
"Hey! you lis'nin?" He interrupted my thoughts with his gruff voice, lifting the gun up with both arms now pointing it firmly at me. "You have exactly five seconds befo' I blow you away boy, so if you can, git talkin!"

Jesus fuck this cant be happening, this cant be real at all!

"five"

Its beak is still moving and English is coming out so-

"fo'"

No no no no no no-

"Three"

Please god say this is a dream.

"Two"

GOD FUCKING DAMNIT JOHN YOU HAVE A MOUTH SPEAK

"One"

Shrugging it lifted up the gun for him to get a shot at my head. "Well at least I ain't goin' hungreh t'night..."

Finally, I screamed "I CAN TALK!"

He pulled the trigger anyway.

Author's Note

Cheers for giving it a small read. I know it probably isn't going to be the most liked story in the world, and criticism is welcomed happily.
If it gets enough likes I'll continue it as I have a plan for the story.

Chapter 1: Fortunate son

Chapter 1: Atomic

_________________________________________________________________________________________

He pulled the trigger.

The fucking idiot pulled the fucking trigger.

THE FUCKING IDIOT PULLED THE FUCKING TRIGGER AND NOW MY FUCKING CUPBOARD HAS A FUCKING HOLE IN IT.

Alright John. Calm down, it ain't your cupboard.

...

Okay, that was a little morbid but the point still stands!
My entire body was racked with the overall shock what just happened, and i sat there, mouth still agape as i watched his vexed face behind the smoking gun start to turn into a small smile, then a beak splitting grin, and even further into a full on chuckle.
"Works ere' time, heh" he stuttered out though the subdued laughter. Lowering his shotgun, he finally came down from the door onto his more natural standing position on all four of his claws.
"Now that weren't too difficult now! was it!" he said strutting up to me, his eyes lit up with the same curiosity that they had before. In an effort to try and get away from the fast approaching Griffin I dived to the left, my face passing the now new addition to the cupboard door. My escape was ended in an abrupt manor, as his right claw slammed into the wood right in front of my face, and his left claw to hold up that same shotgun to the back of my head, the still hot barrel singing some hair as it got maybe just a little too close. "Ah Ah Ah" he spoke in a sing song tone "You aint goin' nowher'"
He further emphasized his point by digging each of the sharpened digits on his claw in the cupboard and saying "Now jus' turn that head to me... and I wont have to reconsider not having a meal tonigh'"

I followed his command and twisted my neck to view him fully and by now he had gone from moving too me, to outright on top of me. His hind legs on either side of my outstretched limbs, His claws on either side trapping me on one side and threatening me on the other, and his grin broken beak a couple of inches from my nose. "Now if I am not correct, you just spoke. Di'nt ya?"
I nodded.
"Good... Good. That means unless I find a good reason too, I wont shoot you. Got it?"
Once again I couldn't stop the rapid nods.
My tear filled eyes wandered down to the still hot shotgun and looked at it with a little more scrutiny. If the jagged end of the barrel gave anything away, it was that he had cut it off to make it shorter and considering i hadn't seen a holster on his body or on his armour made it seem more and more like this was meant to be weapon that no one saw coming. Explains why it just suddenly appeared in his claws then. Moving down his arm and onto his body I saw that the leather on his armour wasn't all what it looked like, with several ribs of metal forming a cage across his chest and down to his stomach which was covered by a piece of leather, which in my opinion looked way past the point of simply being worn and torn. His legs were encased down to the ankle in form fitting cloth wraps, with a pad of some other material I couldn't pin point.
My thoughts were once again interrupted by him again "So. Git. Answerin'! what ar'ya?!"

The gun being jabbed closer to my cheek gave me the incentive to answer him.
"H-Human!" to which he chuckled at my obvious fear "Humayn huh? t'aint heard of them befo'. You look more like a.... like a... well, you don't look like nutin i ever seen befo' either!"
I locked eyes with him, his giving some sort of a glare mixed pure glee.
"Now" he said abruptly "I am goin' ta lower my claw from the door. Make a move and the wall behin ya' gets a whole new shade o' red. Understood." That definitely wasn't a question and I nodded quicker than I have, the back of my head tapping lightly against the cupboard behind me.
"Good lil' Humayn..." as said he lowered his claw from the wooden door next to me, the holes showing through into the inky black space.

The urge to knee him in the stomach was oh so tempting, it would be quick and I could ju- No. I can see that he will carry out his threat with no care at all. Do exactly what he says.
With that thought echoing in my head I averted my eyes from his gaze and simply looked down.
"K', now I don't have to worry 'bout wastin' a shell" He said to himself a little too loudly in my mind, and rounded off the statement by laughing quietly and backing off of me to lie down across from me. He scooted up against the door again, this time still sitting down on his hind and rested the Small Shotgun in his lap. His feathers ruffled a little in a breeze that was in the room, and I looked to the large window expecting see it half open like it usually was in spring, my mum being obsessed with circulation and a good air flow. What confronted me however, was the complete and utter destruction for the 2 and a half metre window completely and utterly destroyed.

Well, that explains the glass I've been sitting in for the last 5 or so minutes.

"yeah... I couldn't really find a lock so..." The unmistakable voice of the Griffin drew me once again to him and an what appeared to a almost smug look on that face of his.

"This has to be a dream..." I couldn't help but say to myself in wavering hope. His smile dropped a little at my voice and the words that spoke with it.
"A dream huh? we'll, yer' window and Closet are purty much done fo', so this is one hel'ova detailed dream!" He ended with a small chuckle before it died down all to quickly as he seemed to eye my torso. What? have i got something on me? maybe its my shir-
Oh.

There's a shard of glass in my stomach.

Then the pain started to kick back in. God this hurt, it was like someone had punched me right there where the glass was, and not only kept his fist there, but was poking his fingers through my skin. It didn't look too bug, but it hurt like fuck so let's get it out real quick.
To say that was an easier said than done situation would be the biggest understatement of the year. Grabbing the flat edge of the shard, I attempted to pull but as then the real pain began. Every centimetre that it moved, I could feel it griding against my lower rib and slicing more and more through the tissue that was there and I couldn't stop the ensuing scream of agony.

Once I had stopped attempting to pull the offending source of pain out of my stomach I looked back to the Griffin only to see him coming back to me.
"N-No no you get the fuck away. from. me..." I said with building anger, in an effort to stop him in his tracks. He kept coming at me.
Trying to scoot away I felt the shard start to move around in side me, sending spasms of agony throughout my torso and effectively paralyzing me "Now Whut did I say about movin' away boy!" he scolded, moving to my left side in front of the corner cupboards "I'm gonna' count'a three, then" He continued after grabbing hold of the glass, making me wince and moan out "I'll pull this out, don't want you dying on me and I don't think you wanna be food"
Before I answer him he started counting down once again. "One..." Ok pretty simple, at least I he's going to do now a-MOTHERFUCKER HE PULLED IT.

The flurry of obscenities that flooded from my mouth were not directed to him, but more just anything in general. Too him partly of course, but also to the fact that this wasn't a dream, and my parents were really going to kill me because of my new house guest and to be honest this whole fucking thing was just going down and down.
As my screams died away, I could feel my arms being lifted up and I hate to admit that it took me more than a few seconds to realize that he was lifting off my shirt "Heh, now I know you aint a fighter, specially with a belleh like that!" the subsequent poke to my stomach reinforced his point. Great, he of all people or Griffin are what ever, going to make little pushed and pokes about that now isn't he?
What surprised me next, was him pulling a roll of bandages out of a pocket on his hind leg, and started to not so gently wrap them around my torso, concentrating on the region where the glass had been.

This couldn't be real. I cant honestly believe this. I know my dreams can get a little weird sometimes but this is completely off the hook.
A Griffin. A god-damn Griffin. Not only had it threatened me with a gun, scaring me half to death and to the point of tears but it was now patching me up, its smug smile completely gone and replaced by the emotionless stare it was giving the wound.

"Name's Stubbz bah the way, whats yours?" I looked at him with a little bewilderment, expecting him to have that same smug grin on his face but no, his face was the epitome of serious as hes front claws continued to tightly wrap the bandage around me. He looked up at me, no emotion readable on him "So, what is yours?"
"J-John... My name is John..." to which he went back to finished the wrap. "Odd name" he said out to himself, finishing the bandage by pinning the end.

"I didn't really have a choice in the matter" I tried to counter "I like to think that it fits me"
He let out a small huff and scooted to the spot on my left, resting his head back and taking a particularly long drag from his cigarette. I couldn't help but comment "Never, thought I'd see a gun toting, ciggy smoking Griffin any time soon"
Turning to face me, his face was one of amusement "Really now? well I didn't have 'meet a brand new species' on mah list of things to do either, hehe" he chuckled out, and I couldn't help but join him.
As we finished our laughter I looked at him with a small smile, to which he returned the same "So, What do you think of London?"
It was at this that the look of confusion adorned his face "Lon... Don?". I laughed a single note "Come on! you end up in my house and you have no idea what city you're in?"
He blinked.
"London"
Nothing.
"Where I live"
Nada.
"Where we are sitting right now!"

Stubbz rubbed the bridge between his eyes "Ok Jawn. Go to the window" Odd request but ok. Standing up, and with a constant eye on him to see if the shotgun was going to be used again, I got to my window, and with a little curiosity drew my eyes away from the smoking griffin to my window. What. The. Flying. Fuck.

Let me give you a little background on what usually happens when I look outside the kitchen window.
I am greeted by the soft blowing of the wind through my hair as my house is around 4 floors up off the ground, a nice 20 foot drop. Aside from the cracked pavement and the curling, twisting trees that adorn the path ways a single one way road dissects my street directly in half, and my house is mirrored on the side by the ten to twenty conjoined maisonettes.
Each on of these buildings was originally a single home to a richer than normal family. This was around 150 years ago, and at this time London hit a population explosion, therefore housing was needed and most of the homes in north London were cut into tree separate apartments, or Maisonettes for the fancy folk. I Lived on the top floor of said Maisonette, a as stated before, my house was a solid 20 feet off the ground. Essentially, I lived in a two-story flat.

What I had been doing before was looking directly at the window, not caring for anything else. Now that I had a grand view of the outside, let me tell you that what greeted me at the window however was a bewildering sight. I was... on the ground?
Or at least ground level by the looks of it. The area that now inhabited my field of vision was what appeared to be at the bottom of a small ravine, the walls themselves being made of moss covered sandstone, though on how healthy that plant looked could be debated. In front of me I could see what looked like some sort of Savannah, the long reeds stretching up easily past my waist in height, but a low lying fog was clinging to entrance (or in my case exit) of the ravine, only giving some semblance of a view into the distance. I placed my still bleeding palms onto the window seal itself and leaned my head out, peering up to get a good view of what this all was. The ravine walls easily stretched up above my house by at least a couple of metres, and instead of the drop I was now firmly situated at ground level.

"If this is London!" Stubbz remarked, making his way over and placing his claw on the seal like I did "Then sorry son, but t'ain't no grand city, its a shit'ole"

Cogs were turning in my head as to what the hell was going on. The destroyed cupboards, the all too real sound of a gun, the fact that less than a minute ago I had a rather large and unforgiving piece of glass embedded just below my ribs, and even further the shotgun wielding Griffin who threatened me with death and further consumption.

I retreated my head from out of the window and stared blankly ahead at the entrance to the crevasse. The only words that I could utter from my mouth were along the lines of "Sweet fucking Christ...". This wasn't London, this wasn't my street and by now I had figured out that this was far from a dream of any sort.
I winced a little as I felt a hard slap on my back "So... Is this London?" my reply to him was, in my mind, the deadpan of the century. "What? just trying to lighten the mood." at this my vision started to narrow a little, the world around me becoming a swirling vortex "Woah there, you don't look too flash...". My legs became unsteady, feeling like the numbness from a long sleep was returning. I felt another claw on my front "O-ok, maybe you need to s-"

_________________________________________________________________________________________

I shot up out of my sleep, and cast weary eyes onto my surroundings. The living room was dark. Darker than usual, the only spots of light in the room were the flicking candles that idly sat on the cabinet against the large window, and the low hanging cupboard by the wall opposite me.
My front room was as large as the kitchen, being around 5 metres across at its widest and with two matte black leather sofas (One being a two seater and the other designed to fit three). The floor was made completely of oak planks, each one shined to perfection. In the furthest corner, opposite the entrance which sat at my head of the sofa, stood a well worn desk adorned with a Macintosh computer for the whole family to use. Trailing my eyes right along the wall, there stood my fahters pride and joy, his Flat screen T.V, to which he would mention when he could.

Said pride and joy was being prodded and poked by my new Griffin friend. God, that going to take some getting used to. He sat directly in front of the screen poking it with his claw and muttering the odd thing like "wha..." and "I don't...".
Giving out a forced cough I got his attention, those orange and green locking onto mine with the same abject curiosity as before.
"Aha! you're awake!" He said, his voice raising from his mumbling "Got a'lil worried there and thought that you had popped your clock!"
"Sorry mate, I'm not that easy to get rid of..." I trailed off as he began too approach me, still a little in shock that he existed and that he wasn't devouring me at will. "H-how... How long was I asleep?" I began as he took his spot just next to me on the floor "Well I dont think that 'asleep' is the correct term, more like knocked out harder than taking a shot o'bad booze" he rounded off with a chuckle "But i'd say you were out about... 5 hours... maybe 6"

Throwing my head back onto the pillow i stared up at the ceiling, the swirling white patterns giving my some thinking material. This isn't London, that was clear enough already. So if not London, what is this place? Where am i?.
I had to place my now bandaged palms onto my forehead in an effort to calm the ensuing headache, that was sure to rear its ugly head any time soon. "So, I'm guessin' you ain't from 'round these parts"
Headache levels rising...
"So, as your brand new 'pal' in this pit of Tartarus that I like to call home, I'm just gonna go ahead and cordially welcome you to the grand Equestrian Wasteland!" He spread his arms, and to an extent his wings, widely.
I grimaced "First of all, 'Pals' you threatened to kill me! and secondly, Equestrian wasteland? so that's where I am?"
Wasteland? sounded odd...
"Pssh, I was just messin' wid'ja! and yeah we ain't in no fancy shmancy city like you said. Te' only place that I would say resembles a city is the ruins of Neigh Orleans! and tat's only up the road a bit"

Finally getting the strength to sit up I gave him a humorous smile "Neigh Orleans? really?"
His grin confused me "Yeah!, only the biggest fun house in the wastes!" Again with the 'Wastes', I was going to have to bring that up sometime.
"Ok, i'm interested about this 'Neigh Orleans' (god that hurt to even say) so humour me" Crossing my arms for effect I awaited his reply, him trying to formulate a response in his head.
"Now!" That was quick... "Neigh Orleans is on the south east side of the Wastes, and as of right now, its starting to returning to its pre-destroyed state as a fun hub and relatively almost safe!" The grin wasn't helping my worries "Befo' the war, from what I heard, it's where er'body from all over Equestria went to have fun. Y'know, chill out, relax, get some tail!" Smooth Stubbz, smooth.
"Then the mega-spells hit and like everywhere else, it weren't purty for a while" Mega-spells? The fuck? "But now! its comin' back! and stronger then ever thanks to the Queens! especially with all the stables being found now'a'days, my business as a Merc is boomin'!... uh... maybe I said to much...." the nervous scratch of the back of the head confirmed that statement for him.

Obviously I had some questions.
"Wait wait wait hold up! Equestria? Mega-Spells? Stables? Stubbz, you're speaking at a mile a minute. Slow down and explain it all, remember 'I'm not from round these parts' as you so eloquently put it" His huff of annoyance gave way to a lengthy explanation to what the hell was going on.
Apparently, according to him, this whole land known as Equestria was peaceful and to be honest sounded like a children's book. What didn't help was the fact that it was inhabited by Griffins, Minotaur's, some other beasts that he said and for the love of all that is holy, Ponies. So like how earth is getting, Equestria was running out of space and fuel. Therefore, arguments broke out over who should get the last nibbles of whatever they consider fuel (probably fucking rainbows by the whole idea of the place) and even furthermore wars broke out, and as wars do what wars do best, they escalate. This one escalated into what by human standards, was nuclear fucking holocaust. Of all the places it could happen, not Earth, not some distant war consumed alien world.
But a land of magic and fucking mythology.
He went onto describe Stables. These were places in which Ponies, and only Ponies by the looks of it, could escape to and live out until the magical radiation had cleared up a bit so they could come out skipping and dancing into a brand new world full of death, decay and absolute destruction. Moving onto the subject, he explained that he was a Mercenary, and his Pa was a Mercenary, and his Pa's Pa was a mercenary and so forth. The twinkle of pride in his eyes as the Stubbz family speech was rehearsed to me was one akin to a Red-neck, brewing his first batch of moonshine and naming it 'Bessie' in backwards spelling letters.

Avoiding the giggle at the thought, he caught me up with the last couple of years or so in Neigh Orleans culture. So after the species of Equestria came back for some reason, it started to regain its reputation as 'the home of gettin' a room and a fuck for only a few caps!" Caps being the currency.
He was part of the Mercianaries hired by the top dogs in town to find Stables, open them and get the info, ponies and tech out of them before the other gangs roaming the city did.

After all of it, lets recap. Magical land of happiness, love, friendship and hippies descended into pseudo nuclear war and now I was just south of the biggest whore house, bar fight and scavenger hunt in the wasteland.

Fucking Mondays, man.

Fucking Mondays.

Author's Note

Second chapter! and guys once again criticism is welcomed.
I know I'm tackling a subject which is less than savoury, but I need some feedback. Anything to help get this story to become any better.
Quick note, I aim to have the first few chapters be small hits and have the long sluggers incoming.