Fallout: Equestria - The Score

Ripper was the thinker in our group, usually, so it was only natural that he come up with the plan to attack Ponyville. We set up a bonfire just outside Stable 6 and ate some apples and mystery meat. As we started to crack open a few of the bottles of Sparkle-Cola we had taken, we discussed our attack strategy.

"I've been in Ponyville before a couple times," Ripper began, "and I've seen enough to know where they keep the majority of their loot. Their food and caps are stored in this old building in the center of town. The place is shaped like a giant fucking cupcake or something, so you'd have to be an idiot to miss it."

"Whaddya reckon they've got?" said Duster, a raider with dull-brown eyes and an equally dull coat. His cutie mark was a bloodstain... or was that actually a wound? "How much, I mean."

"I reckon a couple hundred caps," replied Ripper. "And a few dozen pounds of food and water. Pretty big take."

"How are we splittin' the money?" asked Duster. "There's seven of us now, since Knife got killed in the raid."

Ripper raised an eyebrow. "So that's where that punk went. Good riddance, I say. Anyways, we'll be splitting it pretty even between us, but I'm getting a bigger cut 'cause I came up with the plan."

Finally, I chimed in. "Anyone can come up with a half-brain plan. Even you, Ripper." Me and him went way back, so he usually didn't take too much offense when I poked fun at him and his plans. It was just what we did.

"You haven't even heard it yet, you dumbass!" Ripper growled. "We're going in groups. Two groups of two and one group of three are gonna surround the town. When I give the signal, we charge in, get the goods and stomp anyone in our way."

"Who's goin' with who?" Duster said.

"Shanks and Fillet are going with Gorehead. I'll go with Rock Smasher. That leaves you with Jet."

He cursed. "Screw you, Ripper. I wanted to be in the group of three."

I sighed. Duster didn't like me very much. Maybe it was because I counted my kills, or because I was better in a gunfight than him. Either way, he held a grudge. "At least you're working with me, though." I took a swig of my cola.

Duster scoffed. "Yeah. Like that's somethin' to celebrate."

At that moment, we heard a light thump on the ground not far from us. Instantly, I tensed my muscles. "The hell was that?" I hissed.

"Go check it out," said Ripper. "Maybe it's a bloatsprite or something."

I nodded and trotted off in the direction of the sound. Secretly, I wondered if it was the mare I had let go back in Stable 6. Sure, it was unlikely, but there was always a chance. As I looked around the area, though, I quickly dashed that thought away. There was nopony there.

As I turned around to head back, my hoof caught a burlap bag on the ground. I heard a faint jingling emanate from it. Curious, I lowered my head and poked at it with my snout.

The bag was teeming with bottle caps.

Now, after all the counting I did on a regular basis, I was getting pretty good at crunching numbers. After some careful examination, I estimated the bag to have at least 300 caps in it! How had it ended up here? It was like Celestia had left this gift here, just for me.

"Jet? You find anything?"

I slipped the caps into my saddlebag and called back, "Nope! Must've been a crow or something!" I wasn't the best liar, but they hopefully had no reason to doubt me. As I trotted back, I picked up my Sparkle-Cola and downed the rest of it. "Goddamned birds are everywhere."

Duster gave me a strange look. "You didn't find anything at all?"

I nodded. "Not a thing. You can take a look for yourself, if you care so much."

"I'll pass."

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We decided that mid-afternoon would be the best time to begin the raid, as they would be expecting it to be at night. Ripper still insisted that he get a majority of the cut since he planned it, and I decided that I didn't much care. After all, I was planning on ditching these guys after this last raid.

I had come to that decision after finding the caps. 300 could set me for life, if I decided to settle down. I know, it sounds weird, but some of us raiders eventually did settle down over the years. A violent, volatile lifestyle couldn't support itself forever. The reason I wanted to leave after the raid was to avoid attracting suspicion. Who would turn down a heist like this, anyways?

We prepared the best way we knew how; after drinking a few Sparkle-Colas, we used the empty bottles for target practice. Since we were working together and all, Duster and I talked a bit as we took potshots at the targets.

"How long do you plan on doing this raider stuff?" I happened to ask during our conversation.

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I'm gonna do this shit for as long as I can. Who wants to be tied down to the rules of society when doing whatever the fuck you want is so much more fun?" He fired his revolver at a bottle, shattering it into dozens of pieces. "You planning on leaving after this last score?"

I looked down at the ground. It's like he knew what I was thinking. "I think this raider business will get me killed sooner or later. I know it sounds kinda stupid, but I want to live a long life."

Duster spat. "Shoulda thought of that before you decided to murder ponies for a living. If ya can't handle the heat, stay outta the campfire."

"That's what I'm planning to do." I fired a quick burst from my rifle, completely missing a bottle.

Duster lightly punched me in the shoulder with a hoof. "Looks like you're getting careless. Hate to see ya get killed out there. Oh wait - I would love to see that!" He chuckled. God, I thought I was sadistic.

"Screw off, Duster." I fired again, this time obliterating the glass container. "See? I still got it."

"Whatever you say." He trotted off, leaving me to my own devices. "Just watch your back during the raid." What he meant by that, I would never figure out. But it left me with a chill running down my spine.