Chapter 1- Dreams
View Online

Fallout Equestria: Unity

Chapter 1- Dreams

Chapter 1- Dreams

By Blackjack

This is my first story, so it might not be the best

Feel free to leave a comment on what you thought of this fic, and ways I can improve it. Thanks.

Constructive Criticism and feedback is (VERY) welcome

Anyway, this is a Fanfic of Fallout Equestria by Kkat. I highly recommend reading it first, as if you don’t very little of this will make any sense.

Fallout Equestria Is own by Kkat (read it NOAW!)

The Fallout Series is owned by Bethesda (play it NOAW!)

My Little Pony Friendship is Magic is owned by Hasbro (Watch It NOAW!)

http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120219130008/falloutequestria/images/thumb/d/d2/Fallout_equestria_map_by_silentcarto-d48gvst.png/566px-Fallout_equestria_map_by_silentcarto-d48gvst.png

I used this map to reference locations

That morning, I dreamt of my father.

He was burly buck; with a solid silver coat and mane that practically shined. He was a kind buck, he always cared for me and my sister, and my mother never got abused like so many others in the wasteland. He was as good a father as there could be, and he always went out of his way to help in whatever way he could.

That is until…

“…….”

Well never mind that. That wasn’t what I dreamt about at that particular time. This time was a good memory. A great memory, it was the first time I knew what I wanted to do in my life. The first time I cared to know. Even if the road to it was harsh.

My father was the towns designated repairpony, and he was good at it. He could fix almost anything you brought to him. Broken toy, he’d fix it, broken tool, he’d fix it, broken gun, and he’d fix the hell out of it. He was a genius with the art of repairing. It was unlike anypony I’ve ever seen.

It’s only natural he would try to pass on his talent to his children.

My sister, Golden Thunder, my elder by 4 years, caught on quickly, and was almost as good as he was. Because of this, she got her cutie mark before anypony else, a wrench, and pliers crossed with duct tape in the background. She was so happy; she bragged to everyone for weeks until somepony else got theirs, and even then she didn’t shut up about how she was first, which put me in an awkward position, seeing as I was the last of my age group to get theirs.

The other fillies teased me quite a bit about it, the toughest (and coincidently, dumbest) always tried to get into fights to show their superiority, some of which got physical. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t get my father’s strength, and whenever they caught me, it would be a sure beating.

I was blessed, in a way though, that Celestia had given me the gift of speed and agility. Try as though the bullies could, I was the fastest of all of them, and it was rare one could keep up. My speed didn’t just end with me being fast. I was anxious, I was hyper. I climbed on top of buildings just to see what it looked like (not easy with hooves), I tried to see how fast I could run from the east gate of town to the west (40 seconds), and I damn loved it. My attitude did attract attention though. Golden Thunder hated the idea of me being so carefree, and went out her way to attempt to put me in my place. Not like it ever worked.

That day in particular started like any other. My father had me and my sister work with him in his garage, fixing pretty much anything we were told to, mostly toasters strangely enough. Anyway, that morning went by like almost every other, until later, around noon.

You may remember how I said my sister caught all my father’s skills naturally. I didn’t, and try as he might, I was a shoddy repairpony compared to him. I wasn’t horrible mind you, I can fix easy things (toasters) and perform maintenance on firearms, but anything too sophisticated is far beyond me. That day, my father put me and Golden Thunder each out on a test of sorts, to fix a non-functional hunting rifle.

As I said before, I could perform maintenance on guns, but fully repairing one was quite a feat, especially at my age and skill level at the time. It was only made worse that Golden Thunder fixed hers immediately despite the fact that hers was far harder.

I took longer. Much longer. Far longer; so long that my father actually had to call me off to explain what was wrong with it. Turns out the loading mechanism was busted, and I was trying to repair the trigger. I was frankly, quite embarrassed. It was only made worse by Golden Thunder’s mocking afterwards.

I was not an angry buck, typically I was a very relaxed pony, but there are a few things that just make me want to scream. Being showed up by my sister is one of those.

Needless to say, when she beat me in the test, she gloated, she told all her friends. Now not only was I the only pony in my age group without a cutie mark, now I had no talent at all. When I left the garage almost an hour later; my father having spent that time showing me how to fix my rifles loading mechanism, Golden Thunder had told all her friends who in turn spread the news like wildfire. I don’t recall much about that evening, but I do remember the bullies were far harder than normal. Eventually I sort of wandered to her; I guess I was tired of being mocked that day.

She was sitting in the shade of the old playground, talking and laughing with her friends when I approached her. Her friends took immediate notice, yelling insults, calling me blank flank. Their words flew over me; I was here for Golden Thunder, not them. She saw me as well, but rather than say anything, preferred to just sit still while I glared at her. After a few minutes I had enough.

I let out a deep breathe, “What the hell Golden!” I yelled, which probably didn’t sound very intimidating in my high pitched filly voice.

She stood up, allowing me to take in her huge form, “The hell do you mean Blank Flank?”

“Why did you tell them?”

“Cause its funny. You’re born the son of a mechanic, yet you can’t fix shit. You’re useless Black; go run off before you embarrass your family further.” Her tone was calm; she had said this to me before, yet never publically. She had always disliked me, always thought me as a disappointment, and for most of my fillyhood had tried very hard to make me realize that fact.

I wasn’t just going to run off because she wanted me to. I still hadn’t gotten all my answers.

“But why, why do this to me! I’m your brother damn it! Do you think I like being mocked all day!”

My sister was fast. She slammed her hoof into my small form, knocking me to the ground, my side burned with every movement, “Do you think I want a brother like you! Do you think father wants a son like you! No! No one cares for you Black. To you the world is all fun and games, but you need to wake up! The world is cold and harsh. Get used to it.”

She finished her speech and turned around to walk back to her friends. She never made it.

As I said, I don’t get angry often, but when I do, pure rage runs through my veins. No sooner had she turned around, than she was whapped upside the head with a spare floating piece of metal from a collapsed bench. She turned around, eager to return the blow, when I hit her again… and again…several times over. Physically, I was never strong, but I was a fairly good telekinetic, and each swing had my full driving force behind it. By the time I was done, she had several bruises, and with every step she took she swayed dizzily, before collapsing unconscious with a groan.

I dropped the pipe I was levitated as the realisation of what I had just done came upon me; turning around and running away as fast as I could, all her friends’ eyes on me. I only stopped when I got to my house, a fine place, made from scraps from the nearby junkyard, which my father had repurposed brilliantly into a fairly large home made from dozens of wrecks, sky chariots and more. I didn’t go in, at least not by the front door, instead opting to run up a rather ruined mess of a sparkle cola billboard leaning on the side of the house.

The billboard served as a bit of building support for a wall, even if it wasn’t perfect, but at the time, I used it as a ramp to my balcony; just outside my room. I slipped inside, not wanting anyone to know I was home.

Inside I simply collapsed on my bed, taking care to stay off my bruised side. I just wanted to lie there forever. I couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t come down lest my father find me. So I cried. I cried for hours, silently and solemnly, until the familiar voice of my father called me down.

I don’t remember how long I was in my room, but when my father called me down, it was night; I was preparing to go to sleep. I slipped down stairs silently. He was standing over his, home workbench, which at the time had a now working clock on it that I remember him being hired to fix. When I walked in, he turned to me, and gestured for me to come closer.

When I was finally as close as he wanted (startling close) he grabbed me in his hooves, and pulled me close, and what he said surprises me to this day.

“You are different, you were not meant to wither out in this town of ours like me or your mother. You are special; you’re going to do great things son. I’m proud of you. No bully, your sister included can change that.”

I stared at him blankly, what had he meant, I had just nearly killed Golden Thunder, and ashamed my families title of mechanic and he was…comforting me?

“What? What about Golden and-”

A half smile crept onto his face, “Golden is fine Black. Just a healing potion or two. You don’t think she hasn’t been hurt before. She had a rough fillyhood, did you know that?”

“I” I started but paused to think about what he said. Truth be told, I had thought she had a relatively nice fillyhood; she had so many friends, she was the toughest mare I had ever seen, next to my father himself, and she was so popular. The mere thought seemed wrong, like it should be taken down, and burned, and sent to the moon for a thousand years of exile. “Yes” I finally said. “I thought she did.”

My father fully smiled, “We all go through rough times in our youth; it’s a time for discovery, and enjoyment yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s perfect. Golden Thunder was teased by the rest of the fillies for the exact same reason that you thought she wasn’t. Everypony thought that because she was tough she wasn’t smart. Her cutie mark showed them otherwise.”

“But I-” I was cut off.

“Son, she said the things she said because she was jealous. You got teased more than she did, except while you weren’t able to shrug it off with a cutie mark, you ignored them and at worst ran away. And while yes you did get into several scuffles, you managed to avoid the most of them. Golden had to get involved, she isn’t fast like you. When the rest of the town decided to pick on her she could not avoid them, and just like you there are the fillies who enjoy violence.” He paused to take a deep breathe. “The reason she treated you like that is because she wishes she was as carefree like you. She doesn’t hate you Black.”

I smiled. All my life Golden Thunder had bullied me. She always claimed to hate me, to despise me even, but now…. all that was gone. It was like a weight off my chest. “Thanks… I guess”

My father looked almost offended, “Thank me, I did nothing for it.” He patted me on my head and turned back to his workbench. “Oh and by the way, you may want to apologise to Golden.”

‘Oh!” I exclaimed perhaps a little too loudly, “I guess I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” A familiar voice said behind me. Oh crap.

I whipped around as fast as I could to see Golden staring at me, her bruises healed…tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry Black. I’m so sorry.” She stepped forward, and as with every reaction to when she tried to get close, I stepped back, only for her to tackle me in a massive hug. “Please forgive me.”

I don’t recall ever having been as confused since that day. My sister hated me, now she loved me, I beat the crap out of her, and now she’s asking for my forgiveness. This was too weird. “Um…Accepted?”

She looked me in the eyes, “Accepted.” Her smile grew wider, and she leaned down into my neck, whispering quietly, but almost lovingly “But if you do that again you won’t want to know what I’ll do to you.”

I gulped. Golden Thunder never lied. That was life lesson number one.

That day was the start of a turn of events in my life, in more ways than one. After seeing what I did to Golden, the bullies stopped picking fights with me, content to simply get into verbal brawls.

Golden surprisingly kept to her word. Her attitude improved, and she seemed to actually acknowledge my existence as her brother. This included her helping me with my repair skills, and whenever a bully got the idea to take the teasing too far, she would step in to help.

I was happy genuinely happy, for the first time in my life things were good. They weren’t just ignorable.

That’s not to say I got away unpunished. My father put far more tasks and work on my agenda then every before, and he made me a practical servant of Golden just so I could make it up to her, even if she herself had forgiven me.

I didn’t think much of what my father said to me at the time, I was still a filly after all, but I took a certain few of his words to heart.

“You were not meant to wither out in this town of ours like me or your mother”

I realized what I wanted to do with my life the moment I heard those words. I wanted to explore. I wanted to see the world, and when I told my father later, he not only allowed me to do so, but he approved of it, provided I took a wasteland survival course first.

Little did I know that I had ignored the most important thing he said that day.

“You are special; you’re going to do great things son.”

Most people told their fillies about how they are special; about how they are going to change the world; how they would grow up to be a hero. Lies the lot of them, but do you want to know the thing that horrified me about when my father told me?

He was right.

“Come on get up Black, Birch is checking the wagons, and you do not want to know what he’ll do if he catches you sleeping.”

I was awoken by the smooth voice of the violet mare, anxiously but gently shaking me out of my slumber. There was a flaw with what she was doing though, primarily trying to wake me up at all; I am lazy, and my least favorite thing in all of Equestria is being woke up. Ever. It wasn’t until she mentioned Birch that I opened my eyes.

As before I was still on wagon three, lying down on a flooring of hay, which to be completely honest hadn’t even come close to making my sleep comfortable; the violet mare had leapt over onto the back to awaken me, and the wagon had stopped moving. We were on a small dirt beaten road, now surrounded by hills, dotted with the remains of long since charred trees. It was dark out, probably night.

As I always did when awakening, my first act was to look up at the cloud cover, arching across the sky for miles on end. I sighed; no one alive except those in the Grand Pegasus Enclave had even seen the sky, but that did little to dissuade my desire to see the sun, its golden rays shining down on the wasteland, filling it with more colors than the usual grey and brown.

I put those thoughts out of my mind as I attempted to recall my dream. Well at least as close as I ever got to a dream. That was something unique about me I guess. I never dreamt, I just recalled previous memories. Doesn’t sound like a bad trait right?

Wrong. To tell the truth it’s a mixed bag. I had no control over which memories I saw, and as much as I had my fair share of great moments that I would gladly see over and over, I also had ones that I would rather forget entirely. Have you ever spent a night dreaming about a gaping bullet hole in your foreleg, and being able to recall every single moment, including the makeshift operation to yank the damn thing out, while you were still conscious, and in agonizing pain the entire time; being able to remember every single detail. As I said, mixed bag.

The mare had noticed me thinking about the dream, which primarily consisted of gazing into space, and she giggled, “Damn Black, you’re hard to wake up.”

I shrugged my shoulder as I stood up on my hooves “You are not the first to realize that.”

She stifled another snicker and once again opened her mouth to speak, “Well I couldn’t just let you get caught sleeping by Birch, he hates ponies who sign up just for an easy ride and free transport.” She paused to yawn, “It’s only common decency.”

I nodded my head in approval, “Well thanks for that, most ponies would just have left me to him.” I looked around at my surroundings. “How long was I out? Why did we stop?”

“I’ll put it this way Black; you fell asleep at eleven thirty in the morning. It’s nine in the evening now. We should be at Appleloosa in a day or two.” She adjusted her hat when it shifted, on her head. “We stopped for the day; everypony needs some sleep.”

“Hmm” I had only intended to be asleep for a few hours for a quick nap, but I had overslept by quite a bit. Not like it mattered to me. I’m lazy, remember? Don’t ever forget that.

I reached up to scratch my mane, and a realization came upon me. I hadn’t even asked for the mare’s name!

“Oh crap!” I exclaimed perhaps a bit too loudly, “I forgot to ask for your name.”

She smiled widely, “It’s no offense Black; very few ponies ask for my name, you know, I am just a caravan driver after all.” She reassured me, “My name Black Lightning, is Lavender.”

“Lavender” I rolled her name around in my head for a moment, “It’s a good name. Fits you well.”

“Why thank you, but it really is just a name, no need to get so worked up about it.” She glanced at the wagon in front of her, wagon two; Jack-Knife’s wagon. “Get sharp, Birch is almost here.”

No sooner had she said that then Birch appeared next to our wagon. The scowl he wore when he looked in my direction told me he was upset with me for some reason, and I worried about whether he had realized I had been sleeping for the majority of the trip. My fears vanished when I recalled how I lost him a bet, and he was upset for me losing him fifty caps.

“Any problems Lavender?” He asked, his voice scratchy and gravelly.

“Not one Birch, wagons in good condition, Black Lightning here’s been keeping his guard (‘thanks Lavender’), and the brahmin are in a good mood. We’re in the clear for concerns.” She answered, even if it was accompanied with a lie.

“Good, good.” he turned his attention to me, “Do you have anything to add?”

I swallowed deeply, “Nope, I-I’m good. Just k-keeping guard of Lavender.”

He kept his eyes focused on me with a glare, but it vanished when he turned to inspect our wagon for himself, lest we miss a problem with it. When he found nothing, he looked at both of us, nodded his head, and continued to the next wagon, wagon four.

“You are a horrible liar Lavender.” A voice said, deeply, and ferociously. A voice I knew well.

“Oh be quiet Jack-Knife, no one needs your attitude right now, and besides it worked well enough.” I said with a friendly tone and a smile. He was a friend of mine; I didn’t want to get into a fight with him, as much of an asshole as he was.

Jack-Knife looked at me from his wagon in front of me. A fiendish smile on his face (keep in mind that all his smiles are fiendish), “She stuttered mildly, her words faltered. I would be able to tell the lie. You may want to teach her how to supress those.”

“That might be true, but it worked. Anyway, how’s things on your end?”

Before Jack-Knife could answer (it wouldn’t have been pleasant, nothing from him is), he was cut off.

“Well, I think I did good enough!” Lavender butted in loudly and roughly. I groaned, she did not know what she was getting into, picking a fight with Jack-Knife. He hated getting talked back to, but being cut off was one of his pet peeves, this wouldn’t be pretty.

“Did I ask your opinion mare! No, I don’t think I did; now I would recommend you stay out of this conversation from here on in!” Jack-Knife roared in his most intimidating voice. That is to say, horrifyingly intimidating.

Lavender didn’t look threatened in the slightest, she instead looked….sad?

“Ponies like you…you!” she repeated in a somber yet loud tone, “Are the reason we have a wasteland in the first place. All you do is go around fighting and killing.” She turned to me next, her tone that of disappointment, “How could you befriend one of them?”

She hopped off the wagon, and trotting away in the direct of wagon one, before turning back to me. “I thought you were better.” She turned around and continued to walk.

Jack-Knife looked at me, “Was it something I said?” He said sarcastically, which honestly didn’t really fit his deep voice.

I shrugged my shoulders, “Probably. Most mares don’t like being yelled at for introductions.”

Jack-Knife erupted with laughter, “Oh no I spoke to her while you were out, she’s quite the mare, has some interesting, and more importantly pointless views on morality.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What’s your opinion of her?”

I thought it over. Truthfully I liked her, she was a good mare, and while I didn’t fully share her views, they were interesting nonetheless. I could not deny the logic, but saying the wasteland would become a peaceful land if all the ponies would stop fighting was anything but true. There was still balefire radiation, taint, and the land hosted dozens of creatures that would just love a pony as a snack. Getting rid of the pony conflict would help, but it is far from the main concern.

“I like her.” was all I said.

Jack-Knife grunted, “Fair enough.” He leapt off his wagon, “Well I don’t know about you, but I refuse to spend the rest of my night stuck up here.” He began trotting away from the wagons. “I’m gonna go look around.”

I stared at him as he kept up his trot, “But what about the caravan?”

He stopped to look back at me, “They leaving at daybreak tomorrow Black, I’m not leaving for nine hours.” With a shake of his head he turned and continued, muttering something along the lines of “idiot” in his wake.

I looked around the makeshift camp. The wagons were set up in a circle formation, with the highest numbered wagon (seven) in the middle, and the lowest on the outside. I looked back at Jack-Knife leaving, and cursed loudly before leaping off after him, and giving chase to the now galloping figure.

I do that a lot nowadays, don’t I?

“Hey, I bet I can hit that bottle over there.”

I don’t say many things about Jack-Knife to others, not because I don’t have a lot to say but because he’d literally kill me if he found out, but if I said one thing it would be this; my companion is a horrifying pony. Jack-Knife was a pony that was seemingly made for the intention of killing. His cutie mark is a flaming bullet for Celestia’s sake.

He was a huge earth pony; he’d put my father to shame, and he uses his strength for disastrous purposes in combat. Should his target be at a distance, his sole battle saddle mounted rifle would pick them off with lethal efficiency. I’ve seen him take down manticores with nothing but his machete. He may have needed some patching up after, but the point remains the same.

So when he asked me whether I thought he could hit a sparkle cola bottle some dozens feet away on top of a shack at night, you can guess my answer. Sure enough, moments later the house’s roof was covered in glass shards.

He laughed, and looked at me, “Whoever put that there put three more up as well. I bet you can’t hit one.”

I grunted, he always enjoyed doing this to people. When you cut it down to the basics, Jack-knife was just a show off, albeit a really good one. But he had challenged me, and since I liked living, I almost had to comply.

I squared my shoulders, and took aim. The shack was about twenty or so feet away from us, and basing my thoughts on the fact that no pony came out when Jack-Knife blew apart one of the sparkle cola’s that somepony had been so kind as to put up there, was uninhabited.

So I figured there would be no harm done in shooting one of them off myself. My eyes focused on my target, my telekinesis put the safety on my left rifle (ammo costs caps!) my mind doing the mental math required. I smiled, I was a good shot; I couldn’t miss.

BLAM!

I missed.

“HA!” Jack-Knife roared. “You can’t hit the side of a barn Lightning. Watch how the pros do it, you might learn something.” Once again he took aim and bit on his mouth trigger, taking care to make it look easy.

BANG!

His rifle shot a larger caliber than mine, making a far louder bang when it shot. Yet it was just as accurate, or perhaps he was just a genuinely good shot with it, but nonetheless, one of the bottles shattered.

“He turned to me, “Now do exactly that princess.” He said in a mocking tone.

I grunted, and without even taking the time to take aim, let out two shots at the shack’s roof.

BLAM! BLAM!

The two remaining bottles shattered as my bullets blew through them, adding to the roofs already large supply of shattered glass shards. I turned to Jack-Knife; my tone as proud as my smile, “Beat that princess!” Before he could do anything, I ran off in the direction of the shack, him trailing behind me.

The shack was a small square house standing in the middle of an indent in the ever ending hills. It was made from scraps from what I thought was two or three sky chariots, but to be completely truthful, I had no idea.

I paused when I got close to it, lest somepony still be inside. Jack-Knife however, thought differently, and he didn’t slow down upon his approach, but rather he sped up to the shacks door and bucked it open with all his force.

The door flew off its hinges.

I ran inside the shack after him, the interior was just as I thought it would be. Dark and cramped. There was a lot of scrap lying around, a small window, and a bed in the corner. It was also dark; I could make out Jack-Knife, with his coat being green, but I couldn’t see my black hooves in front of me.

Jack-Knife was looting the place, grabbing everything not held down that looked like it could be useful, which is to say quite a bit. I didn’t bother looking around until I had a light source, which I promptly pulled from my saddles, in the form of a mouth grip flashlight.

With an actual light source, I turned towards the bed. On top was a vaguely pony shaped obje- no wait, that was an actual pony corpse, probably weeks dead, worms and insects swarmed it. It took all my resolve not to up hurl my stomach. Which reminded me. I was hungry as hell! I needed to get something later. Oh wait, carcass, I lost my appetite once more.

Jack-Knife looked at the writhing form on the bed, “Dumb Oaf, right lets go, not much else to see here, and we need to get back to the camp lest they think we ran off.” His words were emotionless; he cared not for the dead.

I agreed, and we departed without a word. The maggots and worms continued to dine on the body. I wish I had done something, but there was little I could do. I had come across dead ponies, I’d even killed a few, and after so long your respect for the everyday dead sort of…dies.

It’s just another way the wasteland corrupts everything it touches.

Our arrival back to the caravan didn’t exactly go down as I thought it would. You see, when somepony see’s two dark silhouettes galloping towards them armed to the teeth with rifles on their backs, they have a habit of calling them raiders and shooting at them.

That was pretty much our situation, both of us taking cover in and around the burnt carcasses of long since dead trees, counting the shots fired, chips and splinters flying over our heads as the trees got more and more worn down, while Birch’s voice echoed over the bangs.

“Damn raiders, how dare you try to take this caravan, we’ll kill ya, burn your bodies and leave ya on the road for all ta see!”

Have I ever said how little I liked Birch?

I huffed out a breathe and looked to Jack-Knife, hiding under the refuse of three collapsed trees in a hollow. He merely rolled his eyes at me, and then made a gesture at Birch. I knew what he wanted me to do.

“We are not raiders Birch, its Black Lightning and Jack-Knife.”

I popped my head out in the open for a peek; Birch’s face was that of sheer confusion for a few moments, but soon it vanished to be replaced by rage.

“The hell are you two doing out there damn it! Get back here now!”

Jack-Knife was the first to get out of his shelter, he calmly and slowly strode towards the caravan master. Once Birch saw that the apparent raider was in fact Jack-Knife, he looked to my position. “You can come out now too.”

I didn’t have many options, so I complied. Birch looked anything but happy; his face was twisted into the angriest scowl I had ever seen. His weapon, a 9mm pistol floated next to him. “Now tell me Black, just what were you doing away from the caravan?”

I nervously breathed in deep. “Jack-Knife and me were just going on a walk sir.”

Birch did not look happy, “You went on a five hour walk? Damn it you were hired to protect the caravan, not just abandon it. You’re lucky we still need guards or we’d just leave you here. Now get back to your wagons you two.”

Five hours! I checked my watch (I keep forgetting I have one) and sure enough, 2:14 in the morning. I really had to keep better track of my time. If I kept this up I’d lose track of what day it was. What can I say? Jack-Knife was a bad influence.

Birch was getting impatient, and not wanting to get him any more annoyed I did as he said, and I trotted off to wagon three. When I got to it I hopped on top, to the same flooring as I slept on earlier.

Now here is another precious lesson about me. Anytime is a good time for me to sleep. Most ponies wouldn’t be able to sleep after having been unconscious for the better part of a day. I’m not like most ponies.

The floor was just as uncomfortable as before, but it didn’t matter for me. I hit the floor with a thud; my head pointed out at Jack-Knife trotting to his wagon, and simply sitting next to his wagon, not even sleeping or lying down.

He was a strange buck. To this day I have never seen him sleep, but he never got tired. The only things I’ve seen do that were ghouls, alicorns and cyberponies, and since he was obviously not a ghoul or an alicorn, and I doubted that he was a cyborg, he was an oddity.

Lavender was in the wagon next to him, wagon one, talking to another mare, this one white coated with red hair and a cutie mark of a bulls eye. They were having a conversation, with the white mare was giggling and occasionally laughing at what Lavender said. Good. At least she wasn’t in a bad mood because of me.

My eyelids drooped down over my eyes. Dream time. I wondered which one it would be tonight.

How I met Jack-Knife.

That is a tale I rarely tell. I have to date, only told four ponies, for a multitude of reasons. There is the normal ‘I never talk about Jack-Knife’ rule that I always follow, but it’s also because it is not a necessarily pleasant memory for me. Why you ask? It is quite simply the first time I have ever killed a pony. That’s not a memory I would like to see again.

It was also the memory I saw that night on the wagon.

I’d been out of my hometown for a week, which makes me full grown with my cutie mark by then, content to simply wander the wastes, stopping at towns every so often to get some caps, resupply, get a quick job, and so on. I had just departed a small fishing village to the east a few days ago, Riverside or some name like that, and after passing through some suburbs, I came upon a wall of burnt out skyscrapers.

Now before you say something about me being an idiot for even considering going in, I want you to understand that I was outside of home for seven days, and the absolute worst thing that had attacked me was a malfunctioning sprite bot. The thought that there might be something dangerous in there had not occurred to me, so yeah, I was green as grass. Actually all the grass I’ve seen is brown, but you get the idea.

Anyway, I made my way into the sprawling ruins, scrounging for scraps and supplies. I didn’t find much, most of the buildings were just skeletal supports barely managing to hold up the concrete flesh of the buildings, and I was not going to risk going into any but the most stable looking ones.

When the sun began to go down, I took shelter in what looked like the most stable building nearby, a ruined collapsed pile of walls around what was once a fairly short building, with just the faintest room inside to be called an interior.

I pulled out my bedroll, spread it out and tried to hit the z’s. I was tired after a long day, sleep would come easily.

It was prevented however, by the sound of a struggle nearby.

“I’ll kill you all! All of you! Tear your innards out; strangle you to death with them! All of you!”

I blink my eyes open in confusion, and peeked outside.

There was a green huge buck standing next to a flaming barrel near a wall, attempting to fend of four attackers with nothing more than a machete, while the four held and levitated guns, two with battle saddles, one duel wielding revolvers with telekinesis, and one levitating a shotgun. It was obvious who would win. The buck was vastly outgunned.

The green buck struck first. Quick as lightning he swept out with his machete, slitting the throat of the closest raider, the one with the shotgun.

The rest discharged all their weapons at the green buck, riddling him with bullet holes, red blood leaking from his injuries.

I thought for sure that was the end of him, but he surprised me by not only surviving the wounds, but still standing and preparing for another assault. He laughed when they stared at him in shock. “That is the fault of relying on guns; by the time you have reloaded,” he paused to take a breath, and cough “You will all be dead.”

Their eyes widened in shock at what he said, and by the time they had realized their mistake, he was on them. He fought with a fury, his blade swinging in a wide ark, not all his attacks were lethal, but they all left wounds.

The first attacker he downed was the duel wielder. He hit the ground, his hooves grabbing his gut at an attempt to slow the flow of blood. It didn’t take long for him to bleed out.

By the time the green buck had his first kill, the rest of the attacker’s weapons were reloaded. That didn’t even slow him, he dove at them without heed to his own safety, and managed to hack a chunk off the leg of one of them before his body had enough and hit the ground, a pool of crimson growing around him.

The injured buck took all his attention off the green carcass, and diverted his focus to his leg. The other did the opposite; he walked up to the carcass, which I had just noticed was impossibly- still moving.

He pointed his rifles at the green buck, “Night Knifey.”

I wasn’t just going to let him kill a pony in front of me. I jumped out of my cover, my revolver levitating beside me as the buck turned to me; his weapons aimed at me, and his intention was obvious. I had no other choice.

BANG!

I later learned his name was Wind Runner.

I stared in shock at what I had just done. The green buck smiled as the last attacker noticed what had happened, and he stood up to finish the fight. The attacker turned around to run, but tripped on his wounded leg. As the green buck continued to approach him, he tried crawling, which only made the buck laugh, “I told you what would happen, I warned you. Now you’re going to pay the price.”

When he finally caught up to him, he kicked the buck onto his side, pulled his blade up, and slashed downwards at the buck’s throat.

His scream only lasted a moment, but I still hear it to this day.

When he was done he dropped his machete and turned around to me. I didn’t notice him; I was too focused on the dead buck in front of me, his head a bloody mess. I also didn’t’ notice as the buck body chucked me against a wall.

“What is your name?” He asked; his voice strained with pain.

“Black Lightning.” I answered through the pressure he was putting on my throat.

He thought for a second, “I owe you one.” He shook his head once, gave a slight shiver, and collapsed half-conscious on top of me.

I figured that having saved him from death, I might as well keep it off him. My bandages in my pack and healing potions went to good use that day, and by the time I was finished he was- for the most part- in just as good condition as before.

While he slumbered I made sure to loot the bodies of the attackers. They each wore leather armor branded with an insignia, and blue flaming pony skull on the front, probably from a gang of a sort. The armor was in good condition, but unfortunately, the guns were not.

On the other hand, my repair skills came in handy. The four battle saddle rifles I disassembled into one fairly good condition rifle and the revolvers were both used to repair my mine. I was about to start on the shotgun, when I noticed the buck sitting upright, silently watching me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

His eyes considered my question for a moment, when he finally answered.

“My name is Jack-Knife, those ponies I fought were bounty hunters after my head.” He paused to scratch one of his bandages; he was speaking so calmly it was frightening. “Might I guess; these bandages are yours?” I nodded, “Hmm, looks like I owe you twice now. Tell me who you are.”

I surveyed the buck, whom I now knew to call Jack-Knife; could I trust him? He could be dangerous. I looked him in the eyes; he raised an inquired eyebrow, “I’m from a town to the west of here, named Fey. I left because I wanted to explore.”

He grunted, “You should head back kid, the wasteland isn’t a place for ponies like you. You’ll just get yourself killed.”

“No.” My voice took on a new tone, domination, “I have an agenda and my own reasons for leaving. I can’t return until I’ve done them.”

“And what are those?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“And why not?”

I grunted in annoyance, “I left to kill Bloodletter, the leader of the crimson ponies.”

The buck’s eyes grew wide, just as his mouth did with a smile, “You are going to get yourself killed. Count me in.” What!

“What!”

“Bloodletter is a very powerful raider, this will be a challenge, and I like challenges. But what about you little pony, what do you want him dead for?”

His words angered me; they brought back memories best left forgotten, “I would rather that I keep that information to myself.”

“Fair enough.” His eyes wandered to the weapons I had repaired, “You did a good job of those, who taught you?”

“My father” I was trying to keep my answers as simple as I could, I still didn’t trust this strange buck, “he was a mechanic.”

He smiled once more; the sight was unsettling, “Now why does the son of a repairpony want such a powerful buck such as Bloodletter dead.”

“He took something from me.”

“And what would that be?”

“Shut up.” He was getting into sensitive territory.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He looked away from me, “Bloodletter’s base of operations are to the southeast, we had best get going.”

I sighed with confusion “Why are you helping me again?”

He glanced back at me, “You saved my life twice, I hate bucks like you, so overconfident in their petty abilities, you’re gonna get yourself killed with this, but I owe you a debt, and I will repay it.” He turned back to the southeast as I grabbed all the scavenged weapons. “Let’s go.”

He began trotting off; I followed at a distance, a smile on my mouth. I stood no chance of getting to Bloodletter by myself, but with this buck in tow, maybe I could get lucky, and maybe, just maybe-

-I could take revenge upon my father’s killer.

BOOM!

Have I ever told you how little I get to wake up peacefully? It really is remarkable. This time was in fact, no exception.

I was thrown off the wagon by an explosion at the font, shredding the two brahmin, and sending splinters in all directions. When I landed, I had the luck to land on my head, sending pain throughout my entire skull, making me scream as I saw Jack-Knife running to me, his mouth moving but no sound other than ringing reached me.

I stood up on my hooves; Just as he reached me, who completely cancelled my previous actions by barrel rolling into me, throwing me off my hooves, just in time for me to avoid another explosion. More ringing. Yay.

I stared at him blankly from the ground, and once my hearing returned spoke in my loudest voice, “The Hell Is Going On!”

He grabbed me head with his two front hooves, and pointed it skyward.

Alicorns. Three of them, one green, one blue, one purple, all of them flying towards us, their horns glowed with magic, their mighty wings carried them forward. I looked back at Jack-Knife; he was- of all things- smiling. He turned to me, “Finally an opponent worth fighting!”

I couldn’t take it, Jack-Knife was mad, “Are you crazy, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

He bucked me lightly on the head, “I’ve taken on manticores Black; if these things can beat me they deserve the honor.”

I stood back up on my hooves, taking cover behind a boulder from the shrapnel and explosions as the alicorns casted their spells. I clicked off the safeties on my rifles, and checked my ammo on my revolver. “Fuck!” I cursed under my breath, I had heard the rumors about some new cult ranting on about how alicorns were returning, but to see them myself, it was jaw dropping.

The three creatures landed in front of the wagons, strange shields took form around them, shielding them from the bullets several guards fired at them. One of them, the blue one took a step forward, a line of lightning shot out of her horn, silencing the caravan guard’s gun fire.

She looked around at the wagons for a moment, and then, without any warning, the other two sprang into action. Well metaphorically at least, the green one stood still as a statue just as a shield just like the ones around the alicorns sprang up around the caravan. I stared at it; at the ponies on the other side and- wait, other side!

I was on the side of the alicorns. I didn’t know why, they probably hadn’t seen me, but regardless I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.

I glanced back at the alicorns. The purple one was gone…somewhere, and the blue one literally just vanished before my eyes. That left the green one….just standing there, not even maintaining a shield around itself.

I smiled, upholstered my revolver and against my better judgement, leapt out of cover. My momentum carried me forward, as I clicked the hammer of my weapon, expecting the green alicorn to do something, anything to stop me. It however, did not.

The blue one did. It appeared right next to me, slamming into me and throwing me away with the force of a hellhound. The blow was painful, and burned my left side in agony. It was however, not enough to stop my shot.

BANG!

My revolver shot out, splattering the brains of the green alicorn across the ground, and the shield around the caravan went down..

The ponies, now free of their confines decided now was the best time to break off, and run to the hills. As fast as the alicorns were, it was too much; they turned their attention to me. I laughed, “That really the best you can do!” I taunted them.

Pain exploded in my skull as the purple ones horn glowed, proving in fact that they could do better. I groaned and turned my head to the caravan. Lavender was running off with the rest of the caravan. Among the few who stayed behind, for whatever reason the white coated red mane mare was slumped against her wagon, although I didn't see any injuries o her, Jack-Knife was trapped under a collapsed wagon, and the rest of the ponies left behind were simply to hurt to get up and run, or they were dead.

I let out a moan as the pain multiplied, completely filling my vision with black. Okay fine, you can have to much sleep okay!

I was dreaming. Not just remembering. Dreaming. My father sat in his favorite chair, his eyes focused on me, a deep smile on his face.

“You are different son.” He spoke without moving his lips. “I’m proud of you.”

Everything felt wrong. I had no measure of time, all I could see was my father, the rest was black, pitch black. Voices whispered around me for the faintest of moments, but always went silent when I tried to pay closer attention.

Among it all my father kept watching, his eyes gentle and compassionate. It seemed like an eternity until he made another sound.

“Son, will you make a promise to me.” Memories flashed to my head, two days prior to when I planned on departing from Fey. He pulled me into is garage once again.

“Yes father,”

“Please, don’t let the wasteland change you. It will be tempting, but please persevere. For me.”

“Yes, I will father, I will.”

“Good, now go son, go and see the world, make me proud.”

Make me proud son. Make me proud.

I smiled, I would make him proud, the wasteland wouldn’t change me, not while I remembered his promise, I would not become a monster like so many others.

A monster. Yeah right. There were no such things as monsters. Right?

…Right?

Vats. Vats full of swirling rainbow colored liquid were the first things I saw upon awaking. I was on some sort of scaffolding above them, being held up by something…telekinesis, I guess. Everything at that time was…blurry. As if it was being seen through a half drunken bottle of whiskey.

I coughed…I think. Coughing feels like something I did there, hanging over the vats, half asleep, probably muttering as many curses I could think of.

The telekinesis faltered for a moment, and I fell, still only barely aware, towards the vats. Time seemed to slow down, every second longer than the last one until finally I hit the liquid.

Of all the things I thought it would feel like, it felt….warm, welcoming. In the distance I could hear voices, a chorus, getting louder and louder. I wasn’t one for singing…but I couldn’t help myself. I let go, allowed myself to sing, to join the chorus. It absorbed me in, my eyelids felt heavy, I closed them, I just wanted to rest, to be with the chorus forever.

It was just like sleeping….

LEVEL UP!

Gun Nut- You are obsessed with guns, you gain plus five to both the guns and repair skill.

( Alright, now that you've read this chapter, its time for feedback. Just mosey on down to the comments, and leave some sort of feedback or advice. That is all.)