Fallout Equestria - The Big Easy

“Be sure to take a trot along the famous Crescent Road! This beautiful historic road contains many of Martingale's famous plantations, and a gorgeous view of the Lunar Ocean and Crescent Harbour!

- The Hitchhiker's Guide to Equestria, Martingale chapter

~~~~

“So, dis it, huh?”

“Yep.” I did one last sweep of the room to ensure my meagre possessions were in order. Given how little I was paid, my possessions didn't account for much. I had a small pouch that contained only a couple dozen caps, a small set of canvas saddle bags, and a canteen. I wasn't exactly stocked up for a long adventure but I figured I could gather what I needed once I left.

“Ya know, we gunna miss y'all here. Sho y'all can't stay?” Spade asked. “Ya do good work.”

“Ah know. But it ain't my place.”

Spade snorted in amusement. “Can't even stay ovanight? Bourré night t'night.”

“Nah. If Ah stay tonight, Ah'd have t'stay anotha six months.”

“Fair 'nuff.” Spade extended a hoof toward me. “Ah'll miss ya. But hey, y'all do whatcha gotta do. If dat big ol' world's callin', go for it.”

I ignored Spade's hoof and went for a friendly hug instead. “T'anks. Ya been a good friend, Spade.”

He laughed softly and patted my back. “Ya too. Now get goin'. An' brin' somet'in' nice back,” he said with a grin.

I laughed and left the cabin. It was a gorgeous morning, compared to the last few days. The sky was clearer than yesterday, the thick grey clouds broken up in some areas as if some giant shotgun had been fired into the air. The sun was shining, causing a number of Celestia's rays to poke through the holes in the clouds. This early in the morning, it wasn't too hot, but it was as humid as ever.

I trotted across the yard to the plantation home. The stately manor had survived since long before the war. Overall it seemed no worse for wear. The white paint was dirty and chipped in some areas, and a few roof tiles were missing from the squat black roof, but otherwise the two-storey mansion was in great shape. I hadn't been inside in a while, but I knew it looked even better inside. I hoped the owner was up this early in the morning... I didn't feel like waiting too long to get going on my trip.

Excitement flooded through me as I neared the house. Just a few more steps, a few more minutes, and I could secure my freedom. All I had to do was get there, and-

The back door to the mansion opened and out walked the fuckin' Overstallion. He spotted me and stopped at the top of the stoop, looking down at me as I approached.

“De fuck you want, Stripes?”

Of all the fucking things, the Overstallion had to stand in my way. Any cheer I had vanished in an instant.

“Ah need t'speak wit de boss.”

“Ya know workers ain't allowed in de house. Not wit'out de boss' say-so,” he said simply.

I snorted in annoyance. Workers weren't allowed to just saunter in and stay. For situations like this, it was allowed. “Ah need t'speak wit him 'bout my contract.”

The Overstallion seemed to mull it over for a moment. I stood my ground, looking right into his eyes. For a moment there came a look in his eyes that I didn't like. A hint of pure malice, gone in an instant.

“No.”

The answer took me completely by surprise. He really had to right to be stopping me in the first place. “Excuse me?”

“No. Y'ain't allowed in.”

“Ah've got t'get in dere.” I needed to speak with the plantation owner about the contract. Sure, it didn't have to be right this instant, but the Overstallion was ticking me off now.

“An' AH said ya don't. Lemme tell ya somet'in'.” He looked down at me, and a slight grin crossed his face. “Fuck dat contract. Y'all might t'ink ya just workers, but Ah know better. It ain't a workin' contract. We own you. Look at ya. Not'in' more'n a poor, striped piece a shit.” He took a step toward me but stayed put on the stoop. He seemed to enjoy being taller than me, lording over me. “Ya wouldn't last ten fuckin' minutes out dere. Ya'd come grovellin' back here, beggin' me for work. Ah almost can't wait t'see dat, actually. Ya know what? Ah might even give ya your job back.”

I glared at the Overstallion. He wore the most shit-eating grin I'd ever seen, like he'd finally figured it all out. Like somehow he'd been handed the answers. He knew just how to control us. The worst part? He had a point. The plantation owner, well, owned us. By extension, so did the Overstallion. He was the go-between for the owner and us workers. If the Overstallion put in a bad word about me, and it came down to my word versus the Overstallions, I'd be fucked.

No work, no caps. No caps, no food and no shelter.

Had I not been so pissed off at the Overstallion's arrogance, I may have planned my next move a little better. I let the anger get the best of me. I was too ticked and simply retaliated blindly. What I should have done was remained calm and not burn any bridges.

I didn't just burn the bridge, I dropped a balefire bomb on it.

“Ya know,” I began,” Ah been tryin' for years t'figure out just why y'all hate us striped folk.” I took a step toward the stoop, as if daring him to stop me from trying to get into the house. “Can't quite tell if it's jus' dat ya wife gettin' plowed by a zeeb, or dat she lik-”

I went down. Hard.

It was an off-the-cuff, spur of the moment insult. It wasn't sophisticated or smart, just crude. Meant to get a rise out of the Overstallion. It was completely stupid. In hindsight I should never have said it. Then again, I never expected his reaction.

The Overstallion leaped at me. Clean off the top off the stoop, using his hind legs to spring off the porch. The hoof connected with my cheek and we both went tumbling to the ground. I was left dazed and unable to react to the Overstallion's follow-up attack. He was on top of me, snarling like some savage beast.
I hadn't meant to set him off like this. Whatever I'd said had touched more than a nerve, because there was murder in his eyes. It scared the shit out of me. I was no fighter. I had no way to defend myself. The stallion just kept swinging wildly. I guess I should be thankful he was too angry to actually aim punches and was just going for pain. I somehow managed to get my hooves in front of my face. I knew my mouth was open at one point, but I couldn't tell if I was screaming, calling for help, calling for mercy, or anything of that sort.

It didn't last more than a few seconds, but those few seconds felt like an eternity. Each blow stung worse than the last. For a brief moment I worried for my life. Whatever had set the Overstallion off had just driven him berserk. All I could remember was when the blows finally stopped, when I was able to lower my forelegs safely.

A pair of the plantation owner's guards were forcibly pulling the Overstallion off of me. He struggled against them but they held firm, pulling him away. The Overstallion glared at me, fire still in his eyes, and he spit in my direction as he was led away. It fell far short. He was dragged away, leaving me in the dirt and mud.

“Are you hurt?”

I turned my head and saw the plantation's owner, standing on the stoop. If I had one word to describe the pegasus stallion, it would be “immaculate”. Despite the fact we lived in a post-war Wasteland, the owner's green-apple coat was clean, and his brown mane and tail were both groomed perfectly. The owner was even chubby, for crying out loud. It made me wonder just what the fuck they got to eat in the house that made him chubby.

“Naw.” I was in pain but there were no broken bones or anything like that. A few bruises at worst. No worse for wear, really. “Ah'm okay, Sir.”

“Good,” the owner said, rather relieved. I wasn't entirely sure if he was sincerely relieved that I was uninjured, or if he was just relieved that one of his workers was uninjured. In an effort to feel better about the situation, I convinced myself it was the former. “I've never quite seen the Overstallion like that before.” Like his son, Apple Core, Appleseed had a very soft accent that was barely even there, compared to somepony like me or Spade. “Something you said must have really ticked him off. You shouldn't piss him off like that.” Despite all his concern, I couldn't help but notice that Appleseed never offered to help me up, nor stepped down from the stoop.

“Ah know.” I got up on my hooves and dusted myself off. I'd missed a big patch of mud by a bare inch, for what it was worth. For that matter, Appleseed could have helped me up. Of course though, that would mean getting his hooves dirty. Couldn't have that, could we?

Appleseed nodded. “Well then. Get on back to work... the Overstallion will be taking the rest of the day off, but the rest of you still need to work.” He turned to leave and I called out to stop him. He turned back to look at me. “What is it?”

“Ah needed t'talk to ya, Sir,” I told him.

“About?”

“My contract.”

Appleseed looked at me oddly for a moment. It dawned on him after a moment and he nodded. “Ah! Of course. My wife told me that somepony would be by today.”

That made me hate the Overstallion even more. The owner knew. He knew, and the Overstallion still tried to prevent me from going in to get the contract signed. “Yup, dat's me,” I said, trying to conceal my anger. All I had to do was hold out just a little longer and I'd be free.

“Well then. Come on in, let's get this paperwork sorted out!”

I followed Appleseed up the stoop to the porch, and eventually into the house. Though I'd been in many times it continued to impress me. It had a gorgeous design, but I had no idea what the style was called. All I knew was that it was a beautiful place to live, and Apple Core was a lucky stallion.

The back door opened to a wide hallway that ran the length of the house, front to back, giving the whole house an open feeling. The hardwood floors were covered here and there with once-richly coloured (now faded and threadbare) carpeting, and the stark white walls were meticulously cleaned every other day - by us workers, no less. Thanks to the somewhat clear day out, sunlight filtered through the windows and gave the house a warm feeling. I loved it.

Maybe one day I'd own a place like this. Fix one up on my adventures or something.

I had barely taken a step through the door when Appleseed stopped me. “Shoes, please.”

Right. Spirits forbid I get the inside of their house just a little dirtied. Much as I liked Core, and the house, I disliked the clear divide of the walls. An “Us and Them” deal. Inside the house: sheltered, clean. Safe. Outside the house: dangerous, dirty. I couldn't exactly argue the point though, and didn't feel like it.

Next to the door was a small rack of wooden horseshoes. A fancy little sign was hooked to the rack: Guest Shoes. I grabbed a set and hooked them on my dirty, muddied hooves. They clip-clopped loudly against the wooden portions of the floor while I followed Appleseed.

The walls were covered in old items from the past. A scratched yet still functioning mirror here, hoof-carved cabinets there. And on many of the walls were paintings from long before the Great War. I was compelled, driven to stop and take a look at one. It was faded with time and lack of care, but like the old house it hung it, in still had it's charm. I stared for a long moment, lost in the details of the painting.

It was the plantation, seen from a high angle. According to the brass plaque on the bottom edge, the painting depicted it nearly a century before the Great War even began. Nevertheless the house looked like it had barely changed in all that time. I took in the meticulously painted details of the house and fields, where workers toiled. I leaned in a little closer, close enough to see that the workers were as detailed as the rest of the painting.

Close enough to see that many of them had black and white stripes.

“Are you coming?” Appleseed was standing further up the hallway.

I was drawn out of my reverie before I had a chance to even formulate a proper opinion on the figures. Instead I simply nodded and hurried up the hallway.

Appleseed led me into a small study. It was a warm, pleasant room. At one end of the room was a large window that looked out over the fields. The rest of it was taken up by dark wood bookshelves. Near the window sat a pair of overstuffed chairs, facing a dark desk. A unicorn mare was sitting at that desk, writing in a rather large book. I immediately saw where Apple Core got his coat from: the mare had a very similar shade of pink (or, I suppose, light red) for her coat.

“Ah, hello there!” I liked her. Core's mother, Cotton Candy, was a pleasant mare who rarely left the plantation home. She was, as far as I could gather (and from what Core told me), good with management. Appleseed might have been the face of Wise Apple plantation, but Cotton Candy was the brain. “Can I help you?”

“This zebra is here...” Appleseed began.

“Zony,” I corrected.

“...zony is here to talk about his contract.” He shot me a little look of annoyance when I interrupted him. I took my heritage seriously.

“Alright! Name?” Cotton Candy asked.

“Kaskazini. Kaskazini Nyota.”

There was a soft squeaking as Cotton Candy left the desk. Her hindquarters were strapped into a wooden chair, with a pair of wooden wheels attached on either side. They squeaked and rattled gently as she moved. Using her forelegs she rolled herself to a nearby filing cabinet. She opened the cabinet and started hunting for a file, mumbling to herself. “K, K... aha! Kaskazini.” She floated out a file and wheeled herself back to the desk.

I waited patiently. I had no idea why she'd lost the ability to walk and Core never spoke of it. All I knew is that, for as far back as I could remember, she'd been in that wheelchair. She set the file on the desk and started flipping through it.

“Let's see here...” she started to read the file. “Ah, you've been here almost twelve years now! Quite the loyal worker, Kas.”

Huh. I'd always thought it was only ten. I must have lost track in all that time. It certainly explained why the file looked bigger than I thought. “S'pose so, Ma'am.”

“Alrighty, then. What were you thinking? Going to add another year to this rather lengthy career with us?”

“Actually, Ah was hopin' t'sign my walkin' papahs,” I told the mare. It had taken a long while to be able to say it, as both Cotton Candy and Appleseed assumed I was just there to sign another contract. It felt great to finally say it, after... well, I guess 12 years.

Cotton Candy blinked. “Your... walking papers?” She seemed rather confused. In fact, both she and Appleseed looked confused. They must not have had anypony ever ask them something like this. After twelve years of work they must have just assumed I was going to be in it for life.

“After all this loyal work?” Appleseed asked, looking a little shocked. “I... well, I suppose. Are you sure? Is it something with the Overstallion? I can talk to him-”

“It ain-”

“-ake sure you aren't targeted in any way. I-”

“It AIN'T about de Overstallion!” I knew where Core got it from now. Where Core backed down though, his father seemed to bristle at being interrupted that rudely. I looked at him and shrugged. “Personal reasons.”

“I understand,” Cotton Candy said, giving her husband a look that seemed to placate him for now. “You're a good worker, Kaskazini. It'll be a pity to see you go. Let me just get your papers.” She wheeled away. Appleseed took another look at me, this time much more neutral than before. What was going through his head, I wondered. “If I remember right, you can read?”

“Ah can.”

“Rare gift in the Wasteland,” she said as she wheeled her way back.

Cotton Candy passed me the yellowed, ancient sheaf of paper. I took a long few minutes to read through it. Simple enough stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary, my soul wasn't up for trade or anything of the sort. Anything that I didn't personally own had to be left behind, but that didn't amount to much either way. Most of my personal effects were already packed, and I wasn't planning on stealing any tools or something like that. Of note, I got no bonus for anything like long service or something of the sort.

I wasn't expecting I would, but shit, it would have been a nice gesture.

“In fact, your mother was a good worker, too,” Cotton Candy said as I read over the release papers and signed them. “I know it's been said, but I am sorry for your loss.”

“T'anks, ma'am.” It was a long time ago, but I still disliked talking about it. For now, anyway.

“Sure I can't convince you otherwise?” Appleseed asked. “You've done a lot for us here. A lot of good work. I heard you're the one to thank for getting that tree out of the cabin the other day. We can work something out.”

“Naw. Ah appreciate it, dough.” I did, in a way. For just a moment, I believed they were sincere. I believed that they wanted me to stay, that they actually cared for me. I wasn't quite sure whether they actually wanted me to stay on out of the sincerity of their hearts, or if they just didn't want to be short a worker with the damage that still plagued the plantation. I figured Cotton Candy would be sincere, but Appleseed... not so much.

It was a question that nagged me all the way back to my cabin. By the time I'd put on my saddlebags and left the cabin I still hadn't come up with a good answer. In the end I just came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. They'd seemed to sincerely care about me.

That was good enough for me.

There was nopony in the cabin when I stopped to grab my saddlebags. I took one last look around the little place. It was as spartan as could be; just a few rickety pieces of wooden furniture and an uncomfortable bed. As uncomfortable as it was, I got the feeling I was going to be missing it soon.

I'd miss it all, really. If nothing else the plantation was reasonably clean. I got the distinct feeling the rest of the Wasteland would not be.

Despite how excited I was to leave, I felt like I was being drawn back. It made every step across the field feel like I was walking against a heavy wind. For as much as I hated it, the plantation was safe. It was secure, isolated, and I didn't have to worry about much more than sore muscles and shitty food.

But I knew I couldn't come back. If I came back I'd have to face the Overstallion, and after seeing that deadly look in his eyes I knew better than to show my face around here again. Besides, even if he didn't try to kill me, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right about me not lasting ten minutes.

That left just one possibility. I had to just keep walking.

I can't remember having ever been to the front of the plantation before. Of course, I'd seen it just recently in the painting, but I hadn't actually been up here. The back was fairly boring: the house, a half dozen wooden cabins, and a large orchard of sad looking, barely-fruitful apple trees. The front was something else. Once upon a time it may have been beautiful, and I had to admit it still kind of was. A white gravel path led from the front stoop all the way to the road. It curved around a chipped fountain which had long since fallen into disrepair. The only thing in the fountain now was a thin layer of dirty water and rotting leaves.

Lining either side of the gravel path were evenly spaced trees with hedges in between. Both had the same look all greenery in Martingale territory had. The trees were dark and deadened and missing the grand majority of their leaves. Those that still clung to the limbs were brown and brittle. The whole tree was frozen in time. It wouldn't grow but likely wouldn't rot either. The hedges looked even worse. Once vibrant and decorative they were now brown and shrivelled. The only thing to survive intact was the grass, if only because of how wet it always was, but even then the grass had a brown look to it.

It gave me an overall spooky feeling, like if I happened to turn and look back at Wise Apple plantation the once stately home would look like a decrepit, broken-down mansion out of some foal's book. Even though I'd lived my whole life in the Martingale area, I never got used to seeing the forests of these dead-looking trees. Every time I looked out in the bayou that surrounded the plantation I got a little freaked out.

It didn't help that the bayou was dangerous. Nopony that went in alone made it out.

I stepped onto the gravel path and continued to walk. My hooves crunched with each step down the long path to the road. It felt like it took an eternity just to reach the road when in reality it took no more than a few minutes. I truly hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come.

~~

An hour.

I'd been walking for a whole fucking hour, and the city seemed no closer than when I'd left.

I could see it the whole time, taunting me. Martingale territory was incredibly flat. No hills to speak of anywhere. That meant that the whole time I could see Neigh Orleans in the distance, and it just never seemed to get any closer.

I was steadily going fucking insane.

Not literally, but the walk was brutal. It was just dead quiet, not even a rustle of leaves or anything from the wind. The only sound, other than the steady clip-clop of my hooves on the cracked blacktop road, was the sound of the tide to my left.

The road I was on led along the coast. One would think it meant there'd be a great view, but there wasn't. Instead, the only thing I could see to my left was a pony-high concrete wall that stretched as far as I could see in either direction. The walls were engraved with arcane symbols every few yards. They didn't make for interesting scenery.

They were, however, impossibly vital.

Martingale sat at sea level. A good storm could easily turn the already swampy territory into one massive lake. The concrete wall was part of a levee system that was designed to prevent such a thing from happening. Of course, after the war, there was nopony left to maintain the levees.

That meant that everypony in Martingale territory: myself, Apple Core, even Spade, all of us put our faith in the arcane symbols that were etched into the wall. From what I'd heard, they were there to give the wall strength.

They'd held for now, but they were two hundred years old at this point. The wall keeping me and everything here from dying was older than most ghouls. And yet everypony put their faith in the ancient symbols.

I felt compelled to go check it out. I was on an adventure, wasn't I? This was part of the adventure: seeing things you knew were out there but hadn't seen. I knew what a levee was, I knew what it was there for (every Martingale resident did), but I'd never seen it.

The ground crunched softly underhoof as I transitioned from cracked blacktop to dead grass. The concrete part of the levee was sharply angled and worn smooth from age, but it was still not that high. I ran my hoof along one of the engraved arcane symbols. Pony magic was completely alien to me. Neither of my parents had been a unicorn, and the only unicorn I knew well, Spade, tended toward the dimmer side of magic theory. He knew he had spells but didn't particularly care how they worked. It made for a rather limited magical education.

That said though, the symbols were beautiful, even if I had no idea how to read them. I looked to the top edge of the levee wall and jumped up. I couldn't jump high enough to clear it, so I kicked a hoof off the wall to help boost myself up.

I wish I could say I'd climbed over effortlessly. I was just happy nopony was there to see me scrambling to get my hindlegs up and around while I held tight with my forelegs. Eventually I'd gotten to the top of the levee, and got to see my first up-close view of the ocean.

The top of the levee was covered in grass and dirt that gently sloped down to the water's edge. The dark water was lapping gently at the grass, brown from mud. On such a still day, it looked like a massive mirror. As the clouds rolled past, bands of light rippled across the water. It was just incredible. No other words for it. Maybe I just lacked the eloquence, but incredible worked. I felt even smaller beside the vast ocean. If I squinted I could see, over there in the distance, the hint of land to the south. What was there, I couldn't guess.

I sat there for a moment, mostly to rest my hooves, but to just enjoy the view too. I wished, for just a moment, that Core was here to see this. He'd probably like it.

I lost track of time, sitting there. I don't know whether I'd been staring for five minutes or five hours. There was no deep contemplation or anything like that, I was just taking in the sights and planning my next move. There wasn't much to plan just yet though. I didn't know anything about the city. I'd have to get there first before I could plan anything out.

So I climbed down from the levee and turned toward the city. It seemed, maybe, that it was just a little bit closer.