Fallout Equestria: Emergence

by TheImmolatedPoet

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, Crossover, Dark, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 22542

The Lightbringer has risen, the Enclave has fallen. Equestria is on the threshold of a new era. This is all very poetic, but KnickKnack is a pony with ambitions and he intends to pursue them. Question is - is he willing to pay the price?

FoE: Emergence takes place in an Equestria that has recently been shaken by the events of the original story. Things are beginning to change.

There are those looking to nurture this change, leading Equestria to better times.
There are those who wish to sculpt it to their will, carving out an Equestria better for themselves.
There are most, who simply try to live through each day.
And then there's KnickKnack.

This aspiring little pony has ambitions and the recent changes in his life have allowed him to finally pursue them. His want for freedom, adventure and invention are all within his reach - but it comes with a price. His selfishness and ambition will be the cause of much anguish and loss. Lives that were not his right to gamble with. Will this lead him down a dark path, or will he atone for his selfishness and emerge a better pony?

Published 2014-08-30 02:10:04 UTC
Last updated 2015-10-07 04:44:13 UTC

Prologue

The Equestrian Wasteland, a harsh and unforgiving expanse. This irradiated and tainted hellhole is all too happy to knock you down and take all that’s precious to you, then kick you a few times for good measure.

Of course, there’s little one can do about it when it’s your home. Just trying to get by from one day to the next can become too difficult a task, leaving many to simply wither away. Others don’t go so quietly, living through struggles and anguish until they’re broken and hollow. You could be holed up in a Stable, nice, safe and cozy, also cramped and stagnant. My Stable – Stable 85 – was just that, but was destroyed around the same time the Enclave fell. We were lucky enough to be given warning and were able to find a new home, but we all got a taste of the wasteland in the move – if from a distance. The flavor was foul; it made most retch and scared them away from a second taste. As foul as it was, though, I was drawn to the aftertaste – potential.

After a routine and dull life others may have been desperate to return to the status quo. Not my thing. I played along as long as I could in our new home – Stable 24 – but I was driven to step into the breach by the desire to pursue the ambitions planted in my head following that bittersweet taste of Equestria; and as a result, I threw myself into the meat grinder of the wasteland.

* * *

“KnickKnack, get the fuck down and back to the safe house! The surface is a warzone and it’s spreading down here!” Wind Seeker shouted, galloping up and pulling me down behind a concrete slab with an olive green hoof as it was showered with bullets. “Go, go, go!” He ushered me around a corner.

“What?! Who? Why?” I asked over the sound of shouting and shooting.

“Everypony!” he replied, pushing me onwards. “Through the hatch!”

“What do you mean, ‘everypony’?” I asked, baffled, as he pulled the door closed and span the wheel closed. The sounds on the other side grew, but I couldn’t hear any bullets pinging off the steel door – yet.

Wind Seeker turned to me with a strained, anxious face. “Exactly what it sounds like, every pony who can fire a gun, swing a bludgeon or buck heads in is up there right now battling over dominion of this Goddess-forsaken city!” He cocked his head left and right. “KnickKnack, where is your brother? I told you to stay put! We’re up to our necks in shit and need to get the fuck out of here!”

He was a pony who had seen it all, but I could tell this was pushing him to his limits. Things were wrong. Very, very wrong and he knew it far better than I did. “I-I don’t know, he didn’t say a word to me. After you left, he just disappeared and I was just running out to go looking for him when you showed up. What’s going on, what’s causing all this fighting?”

He laughed mirthlessly, his blue eyes wide. “The same reason ponies with power two centuries ago waded through extra-toxic ruins to set up shop in the subways below – profit and power. There are treasures to be found here that have been deemed worth fighting over.

“Previously, they sent small, highly trained and heavily armed scavengers to search for their prizes and pick the surface clean of anything of value while they were at it. Problem was that they were always on a clock – the perpetual ticking on the Geiger counter; that thick, polluted air restricting visibility and threatening to choke those without a means of filtration; all the creatures, particularly come nightfall, that are ready to tear you to shreds

“Now? Now they can get out there en mass. Every faction, every bracket, fringe movement, bloc, clique and syndicate is rising from the depths to claim the city as their own to claim its treasures. The small-scale conflicts have ended, my friend. This is war.”

* * *

I was a mess. Blood dripped down my face, matting my fur and getting in my eyes. My body ached and my skull pounded furiously, but I trotted on.

I entered the clinic, the sound of the hydraulic door getting the attention of a cream unicorn mare in a lab coat.

“KnickKnack, dear, what’s happened this time?” called the honeyed tone of my mom, Salve, who was all too used to me walking into her workplace with some kind of grievance that needed healing. She looked concerned, nonetheless.

I smiled gauchely “Well I was working with a hydraulic pump and it seems someone had damaged the motor and replaced it with one with a bit too much pressure – without reporting it either. I started up the pump and the pressure rose through the roof before I could react and the hose exploded off the fitting, hitting me in the head and knocking me off my hooves an-.”

“Another one of your experiments blew up in your face.” said Salve, shaking her head amusedly. She telekinetically grasped a cloth with a teal glow and cleaned the gash on my forehead while I winced at the disinfectant, then covered it up with a healing bandage. I felt quite patronized while she checked my eyes with a flashlight, asked where else it hurt and performed a simple healing spell just to be sure. I was fine, I didn’t need this mothering!

“Mom, I just came in here for a bandage. I could’ve cleaned myself up.” I said to her, with slight annoyance in my voice.

“Don’t be silly, dear,” she said “I’m your mother and it’s my job to take care of my boys.” She kissed my forehead below my bandage and embraced me in a hug.

“Seems like it’s just me, these days, mom,” I said forlornly as I hugged her back. “Sturdy’s out there on a big mission for the Stable while we sit around and wait for him to get back.”

“Your brother is doing what he can for the Stable, as are you,” said my mother, breaking the hug to look me in the eyes and put a hoof on my cheek. “My boys are good at what they do and I won’t have anypony say otherwise, not even them.”

“That’s just the thing!” I said, furrowing my brow and stomping a hoof lightly. I began to pace around the room, pausing only to assist my speech with hoof gestures. “Sturdy is good at handling ponies – whether it’s talking to them or giving their rump a kicking when it comes to it - and that’s exactly what he’s doing out in the old world looking for a talisman.

“I’m a good engineer, whether you’re talking mundane or arcane. I could explain to you every detail of that talisman, from its structure to the expurgation process it incurs. I could install it no sweat and – after this latest incident – I’d be keeping track of every possible thing that could go wrong before starting it up while doing so.

“But my capabilities are wasted being cooped up in here. We have a team of good engineers who can handle this stable just fine, meaning I’m more of a convenience than a necessity. Out there, though, is the technology of the old world amidst the ruins.

“Just imagine the possibilities! I could sate my curiosity and really test my engineering capabilities, plus the things I make could help ponies. I could wait for Sturdy to get back, get the Overmare’s approval to go out there with him for whatever comes next, and then gather whatever tech I can to make use of it. It’s a win, win.”

Salve opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a blur of orange and green and blue hurtling into the room at breakneck speed.

“Oh wonderful, wonderful news, Salve!” bellowed Potage Pans, one of the resident cooks, as she flapped her wings, rising from the floor in her excitement.

My mother telekinetically yanked her onto her rump by her tail before she slammed her head on the ceiling. “Potage, breathe. You just nearly knocked yourself out, dear; these ceilings aren’t designed for pegasi,” she said routinely, as this was far from the first time she’d had to explain it. “Now, what is this wonderful news that required galloping in here and almost knocking yourself out? You nearly frightened the life out of KnickKnack and I!”

Potage flushed and ran a hoof through her grassy green mane, stopping where she would have hit her head on the ceiling. “Hiya, KnickKnack,” she said, turning to me. “Good that you’re here, because I was headed your way, next.”

She hopped to her hooves and looked positively ecstatic.. “They’re back! The party is back!”

A smile spread across my face and I could see one growing from Salve’s gaped mouth from behind her hoof. “You mean-“

“Yes! Sturdy, Short Wave and the others are back and I think they’ve got the water talisman!” Potage replied, jubilantly. “Quickly, we need to get to the Stable entrance before the Overmare announces it and we have a hundred ponies to wade through!”

With that, the excited Pegasus darted out the door. Mom and I followed her as she narrowly avoided bowling over ponies in blue and yellow barding on the way to the room that contained the Stable door.

We arrived to see a small group of ponies already waiting at the entrance for the party’s return, among them two members of security who waited at the controls. As Potage, mom and I found a spot to wait the PA system crackled to life and from it came the authoritative voice of the Overmare.

“Good afternoon, my little ponies. I have some very good news for you – the party we sent to retrieve a Water Talisman to aid in our new Stable’s restoration has succeeded! They have contacted me over the radio and should be here well within the hour. Friends and family of the returning, or anypony who wishes to see the team of victorious ponies who have done a great service to our new home – it is advised that you make your way to the Stable entrance in a timely fashion.”

Eyes were on Potage at ‘timely fashion’, to which she giggled in response.

The Overmare continued, “I will be with you soon, to greet our esteemed search party. Have a wonderful day, ponies. This was your Overmare, Sibilant Speakers.”

Ponies hoping to see the returning party progressively filled the hall and subsequent chatter about the outside and the mission inevitably found its way across the lips of almost everypony in the room. Over a hundred ponies – close to half the Stable – all chattered about my brother and his companions.

Silence swept through the room at the appearance of the Overmare. Ponies stepped aside as the grey and pink unicorn that served as our leader trotted her way through the crowd. She made her way into the clearance in front of the door that had been left unoccupied.

This silence made way for the clanging sound of metal on metal that reverberated from behind. Ponies parted once more, making ample room for two hulking, steel-clad figures to trot past and down into the clearing with the Overmare.

We’d learned about Steel Rangers in school, but they were always just words in a book and pictures on a page – things from the past that had no impact on us. However, their impact on us was far greater than we could have imagined.

A large group of ponies simply stumbling upon an empty, functioning Stable – and doing so before the wastes snuffed us out – would be nothing short of a miracle. The same could be said about having a contingent of ponies calling themselves ‘Applejack’s Rangers’ taking us into a Stable that functions as their headquarters and allowing us to stay. However, two groups of ponies coming to a mutually-beneficial solution to their problems is a far more plausible outcome. In exchange for their hospitality and protection, we’d agreed to maintain said Stable, take on some of their more menial responsibilities and find a way to provide food and water for ourselves.

In that last endeavour, we did one better. Having had successfully retrieved a water talisman, the team sent out, consisting of a group of Stable ponies and a Paladin from the Rangers to lead them, had secured the means to provide water for everypony in the Stable.

The two Rangers stood alongside the Overmare, staring forward at the door equably.

“This is unexpected,” said the Overmare, cordially as she regarded each of them. “Thank you for taking the time to join us in welcoming home these brave ponies. I understand your time is valuable.”

The Ranger on her left took off her helmet to reveal a pale green coat and citrine mane “Don’t let the getup fool you, ma’am. We’re busy ponies, but we’re still ponies. Paladin Creme Brulee is one of ours, and Peaches and I miss her like family.”

Peaches nodded.

“Well said, Paladin,” replied the Overmare, coolly before turning her head to the security guard at the Stable door control panel. “Well, best we don’t leave our heroes waiting. It’s time to open door!”

The guard pushed the panel’s lever, causing klaxons to bellow and yellow lights to flash as the door mechanisms pulled the colossal steel cog marked 24 from its place and rolled it away from the entrance and into grooves.

A Ranger stepped through the breach, with ponies lined up behind him. Ponies stomped and cheered as they trotted into the landing in front of the Overmare, who held a calm smile.

Potage hopped up to the railings and rested her forelegs upon them. I followed in suit. “They’re back, KnickKnack! They’re here! Oh, this is the best!” hollered Potage, who was particularly exuberant at the sight of her best friend, Short Wave, a small, lavender mare with a pink mane. However, just like the other Stable ponies in the party – and all of security – most of that was covered by Vault 85 security barding. Enough showed to tell who was who, though.

Peaches, who had remained a near-statue since finding their place, bounded over to Creme Brulee and tackled her to the floor in a display of affection.

Seven ponies stood on the landing. We sent eight to retrieve the talisman.

“Would you mind making some room for me, honey?” asked mom. “I can’t see your brother with the two of you up on your hinds, blocking the view.”

“He’s not there.” I said, bitterly, my hooves tensing around the railing.

“Where is Sturdy Rapport?” I shouted down at the group.

Silence swiftly encompassed the room.

“I was about to ask the same thing, myself,” said the Overmare, with a frown.

The party looked anxious and seemed hesitant to give an answer.

“Short Wave, you managed communications in the group - if something happened to one of your party members, why was I not informed?” demanded the Overmare.

Short Wave brought herself to look at the Overmare directly, sorrow in her eyes, while the other party members – ranger excluded – looked down. My nerves were in overdrive and I felt as though I shook for an eternity in the time it took her to speak.

“Sturdy, he… He chose to stay on the outside.”

“He WHAT?!” bellowed the Overmare and I in unison.

Short Wave dropped her gaze to the ground. After a moment, she looked back up and surveyed the ponies in the room as she spoke “He- Our search for the talisman led us to a city with poisoned air and perilous levels of radiation. Creme Brulee took us underground, because it was much safer, but there were ponies living down there. We had to fight off bandits and avoid factions that seemed to be fighting with each-other, but there were whole towns down there caught up in the conflict who seemed to be struggling to get by as it was.

“There were so many, but everypony seemed to agree that they were just more victims of the wasteland and that it wasn’t our fight. Not Sturdy – he said he couldn’t sit idly by and watch so many ponies suffer.”

Concerned and conflicted chatter began to rise in the room while I stared down in shock.

Creme Brulee stepped up next to Short Wave and looked at the Overmare. “Sturdy Rapport seemed insistent that he could help the populace, that he could somehow stop the fighting. I told him it was a fool’s errand, but when we finished our affairs in the city, he refused to leave. The others tried convincing him to come, and he insisted we leave to finish the objective. He left before we came to any resolution. I ordered the rest of the party to head home, as going after him would have jeopardised the entire operation. I told Short Wave not to report it until we got back, because I felt things would go much more smoothly if we returned the talisman before addressing the problem.”

“This is outrageous!” The Overmare bellowed, “I was to be informed of the details of the operation as it progressed so I could best advise you on how to proceed!”

“Ma’am, Creme and the party returned from a venture into the wastes with a water talisman and you’ve only suffered a single stallion being M.I.A. That sounds like an outstanding success to me,” said the ranger mare with the citrine mane who had spoken to the Overmare earlier.

The Overmare looked furious, but the anger on her face faded into a prim expression and her tone became peremptory. “Very well, but I will be having a word with each of you later.” Following that, she raised her voice for the whole room. “We’ve attained our prize, fillies and gentlecolts! Water will no longer be a problem in this stable. Let’s let our heroes rest, and return to our duties – once they’ve hoofed over the talisman of course.”

No. No! NO! This couldn’t be happening. He- he was supposed to come back and I was going to ask him to take me out there, to see what the world held - the world of old. He was going to be there for me like he always had, not abandon us for ponies he couldn’t save.

But- but he did, and I needed to accept that and move forward.

First order of business, I had to get my way to the surface without Sturdy. Next I had to find my brother and convince him that his goal was impossible, then we’d scour the old world for technology. He’d listen to reason, that we’d use the technology to help ponies in the bigger picture.

Potage put a hoof on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of her, Knicky. I think Short Wave is looking to give you that talisman for Maintenance.”

I looked over my shoulder to see her gesturing for me to come over. I did just that, but before I took the talisman, I had some questions. “Short Wave, I- I need to find him. Where is he? How can I reach him? How can I get out of h-“

She stopped me with a hoof. “Take the talisman and make sure it gets installed properly – We risked our hides for it.”

“But-“

“We’ll talk later”

I took the elevator down to Maintenance and did as instructed. Installing the talisman was an easy feat. We’d already restored the purifier, repaired and cleaned the pipes, and ensured that the waste tank had been filled with any water too irradiated to drink and, of course... ponies’ waste. I locked the talisman it into its chamber in the centre of the huge machine’s tank, then powered up the purifier via the console. Dirty water gushed into the tank from pipes connecting to the waste tank for all the Stable facilities.

The talisman glowed as the tank filled, absorbing the muck at an astounding rate and discharging clean water through a tube leading to a separate chamber where it would be distributed through the Stable.

After taking a moment to appreciate the payoff of repairs, grubby plumbing and poop transportation, I made my way to the living quarters.

“Short Wave, I’m here to talk to you about my brother,” I said, knocking on the door to her quarters. After a few moments, the the hydraulic door slid open and there stood Short Wave with puffy red eyes and muzzle. She looked tired and downtrodden.

“Come in, KnickKnack,” she said, though a sniffly nose.

I walked through, but voiced my concern, “You’ve been crying.”

She closed the door with a push of a button, “Thank you, captain observant. You’re not the only one who loves Sturdy Rapport.” She wiped her muzzle with a hoof, “This isn’t about me, though, it’s about him. I take it you’re planning on leaving by yourself to go find him out in the big, bad wastes?”

I pursed my lips, mulling over her blunt simplification, “I guess that would be an apt description of the plan, yes. Where is he?”

She sighed, “You’re a fool, KnickKnack, and you’ll probably die out there. Still, while you were gone, the Overmare called me to her office and made it very clear that nobody was being sent to get your brother. She was furious that I didn’t report to her more than the actual loss and said that she wasn’t willing to risk more ponies dying or deserting to Sturdy’s cause. Because of that, all the party is on a tight leash, especially me. The Rangers certainly aren’t going to potentially trade one of theirs for one of ours, either, so no help from them.

“Basically, you’re the only hope we’ve got on getting him back. A slim one, but if you’re willing to make the sacrifice, I might as well do what I can to help.”

“Where is he, Short, I’ll make my way there,” I begged, “I’m tougher than I look.”

She shook her head, wearing a troubled expression, “It’s not as simple as that, Knick. Can’t just go from A to B, talk him into coming back and then you’re home free.”

“Look, there’s a town about a day’s walk to the north. I’m sure you know how to use your Pipbuck’s compass, but just in case, keep the mountain range to your left and the ocean to your right. Past that mountain range, you’ll see the town on your left.

“The folks there are nice. Main trader in town is a bit of a grifter, but he’s friendly and helpful enough, for a price. Speaking of which, you’ll need some of these.”

Short Wave dug through a footlocker as I watched, curiously. She then threw a tiny leather sack at me with her teeth. I caught the bag in my magic - it was full, but light.

“Bottlecaps.They’re so abundant in the wasteland that they’re used as currency.”

“Bottlecaps?!” I asked, balking. “Like on Sparkle Cola?”

“The very same!” she stated. “Bits are still viable currency, but it seems that caps are the way to go on the surface.”

I nodded, accepting the fact. Bottlecaps though? Really?

“From there,” Short Wave continued, “you’re going to need someone to help you find your way to Stalliongrad. It’s far to the Northeast, but I can’t stress enough that the wasteland is massive and dangerous. We had a Steel Ranger as a guide, you won’t make it where you need to yourself. If nopony can’t take you all the way there, find somepony who can take you somewhere in that direction and start looking for another guide.

“Once you’re to the city, it’s imperative that you get underground as quickly as possible. Get your hooves on a gas mask, too, you’ll need it.The surface is a terrible, inhospitable place at the best of times, but the city of Stalliongrad is far worse, unless you’re in the tunnels. Once you’re down there, you’ve got a massive network of railways to travel through.

“Now for the really important part - you’re going to have to find a pony named Wind Seeker. He’s an aging pegasus who knows those subways like the back of his hoof. He’s also a bit of a legend down there. Hopefully, whoever takes you will know where to find him, or will know how to find a friendly town. This time it’ll be less of a case of who knows how to find him and more a case of finding ponies who won’t shoot you just for not being one of them.

“If you somehow manage that feat and find Wind Seeker, give him your sob story. Then you’re going to have to deal with your brother and it’s also where I stop being able to help you. Sturdy’s adamant about staying there and I don’t know how you’ll change his mind.

“As far as coming back goes - your journey’s going to be a lot tougher than mine and you’re a damned clever pony, Knick - you’ll know more about that than me by that point.”

It took a few moments for everything to sink in properly. When it did, I was as determined as ever.

“I… this is not going to be easy, but I’ve got to try. I can’t just sit around here doing nothing. Thank you,” I said, “I’ll be much more prepared with this.”

Short Wave hugged me.

“Thank you, KnickKnack. Please bring him back,” she said with a hopeful smile.

“I will,” I said, hugging back.

“I can’t help you actually getting out, sadly. Overmare definitely won’t let me anywhere near the Stable door for a while.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan for that.”

“Of course you have, you’ve never been content living in a Stable. Good luck, machine boy.”

She broke the hug and directed me out.

I took to my quarters to prepare.

* * *

I should have left it one more day. Shouldn’t have tried to get into Maintenance early and grab the last couple things I needed to prepare for the journey.

“Leaving the Stable? Not this nonsense again!” said my supervisor, Motor Rote – a sturdy, yellow earth pony with a cropped green mane – incredulously.

I glared over at my apprentices – Molly Bolt and Toggle Bolt, twins – who had been the ones to guess what I was up to.

Loudly, too.

I then looked back in the direction of Motor Rote.

“Yes! Is that so inconceivable? I wouldn’t be the first and I hope you haven’t forgotten that we left to move here all those months ago!” I replied huffily, stomping a hoof to assert my point.

Motor Rote frowned and shook his head. “KnickKnack, moving as a whole Stable was something that had to be done and isn’t like going out on your own to go on some foolish adventure. The ponies we’ve sent out had specific missions from the Overmare and wer-“

“Were what? Stronger and better trained? More prepared for the wasteland? Don’t give me that horsecrap, old stallion! We’re all Stable Ponies down here! If they can survive, so can I!” I shouted, pacing around him and giving little in the way of eye contact. Other ponies in Maintenance stared at our altercation with wide, anxious eyes.

“They were guided by a Steel Ranger! Do you really expect to just walk out of the Stable and trot your way to a friendly little town where you can get directions to embark on some heroic journey like the ponies that DJ in Tenpony talks about on the radio? Is that it, are you trying to be the next Stable Dweller? You’ll get yourself killed out there! You’re better off in here, where you’re needed,” he said, stepping in close to me to lock eyes.

I stepped back from him, “HAH! There it is! Mr Motor Rote, Head of Maintenance, just wants to keep hold of his best goddess-damned engineer! I’m sick of this cramped little environment, getting by under the command of other ponies, keeping everything maintained so that we can hold together this stagnant existence, ignoring the outside and all it has to offer!”

“That’s not true, KnickKnack. I want you here because this ‘stagnant existence’ is a lot safer and a lot less wasteful than you walking head first into your grave!” he said, stepping in closer once more.

This time, I kept his orange gaze and moved in closer, leaving only a few inches between our faces. “Sure, yeah, I’ll pick the alternative. Instead I’ll just sit here and fix the generators and vents day-in, day-out and sit around waiting to die! I’ll also leave my brother out there to do the same! You might want to hide from the world, but I’m leaving and you’re not stopping me.”

Motor Rote remained still and held my stare with a hard look, speaking slowly. “You have a responsibility to your Stable and your Overmare to do your par-“

“But this isn’t our stable, is it?! Stable 85 is gone, obliterated, so utterly ruined that not even I could fix it!” I said, elevating in volume and pressing my forehead to his and staring angrily into his orange eyes. By this point, our fight was causing the other engineer ponies to skulk away to avoid getting caught up in it.

Motor Rote held my gaze. “That is beside the point! This attitude is extremely irresponsible and y-“

“No! I owe nothing to this place or it- GAH!” I yelped, covering my bloodied muzzle.

Motor Rote stepped back, his face softening from anger to shock and concern, staring from the hoof he’d swung and back to me. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

I wiped my face with a forelock and gave him a heated glare, then turned my back, giving him only silence.

“Hang on. I’m sorry. Let me get something for that.” he pleaded, sounding desperate. I walked away, heading for the elevator. “Please. I’m sorry. Son? I-I’m sorry…”

I remained silent as the hulking metal elevator took me upwards. I was furious. Couldn’t he see this was better, that I was trying to find his son?! And he- he hit me - my own father! I- I… he’d never hit me before. Sure, I got spanked as a colt, but he’d never actually hit me, before. He wasn’t that kind of father. A rough stallion, yes, but loving and kind and- and I’d just thrown all that in his face and told him everything that his whole world was a farce.

I… I couldn’t hold it against him for acting the way he did. He’d been shocked by the move – as had many, especially given that not everypony made it – then Sturdy leaving and now me talking of doing the same right after we found out he’s not coming back.

He wasn’t scared of losing an engineer; he was scared of losing his sons.

With my ride in the elevator over, I was brought back to my current circumstances and realised that while I’d been thinking about my dad, I’d let my face gush out all over the floor. At the opening of the doors, I was greeted with horrified looks from ponies who quite clearly didn’t expect a bloody mess to step out and trot past them. I headed to medical.

“KnickKnack, dear, what’s happened this time?” asked mom once more.

“I’m leaving the Stable, Mom. I just needed something to clean up with first,” I told her.

Nothing. She just looked down at the ground, sadly.

“Mom, I have to go now. Not just for me, but for Sturdy.” I hugged her. “Tell dad I love him.”

Slowly, she returned the embrace. “Good luck, Knicky. I’m proud of you.”

I needed to go, and soon, someone would be letting the Overmare know. I took to my quarters to grab my things. I didn’t have time to finish the extra preparations, so the components jingled about in my saddlebags as I swiftly made my way to the Stable door.

“Alright hotshots,” I said to the two stoic security ponies standing guard at the Stable entrance, “We know how this is going to go down: You try to jump me, I do something tricky and escape while you're tie-”

One of the security ponies turned to the control panel and the other stepped to the side to allow access to the landing in front of the Stable door.

“Wait, what’re you doing? You’re not stopping me?” I asked in disbelief.

“We’re letting you through,” said the amber pegasus mare at the control panel, “Overmare’s orders.”

“Wait, what?” I gaped. “She already knew…”

The emerald earth pony standing next to the stairs piped up this time. “The Overmare isn’t going to send security personnel to go and find Sturdy Rapport, but if his brother’s foolhardy enough to want to wander out and get himself killed, it’s going to reflect badly on her if she stops you. She’s cutting her losses.”

Their voices were apathetic. Just another job. It wasn’t exactly wonderful news, but it did mean one thing. “I’m going to be back and take some more time to prepare, then.”

“No,” said the mare at the terminal, her tone becoming more assertive. She flipped the switch on the panel and once more, klaxons rang and the massive door to Stable 24 began to open. “You walk back down that corridor and it could damn near start a riot if ponies think we turned you back. You’re going through that Stable door.

“If you have a change of heart, you can wait outside a day and ask to come back in. At that point, the Overmare will make an example of your hasty return, letting these ponies know that saving your brother is too dangerous.

It’s now or never.”

“I…” I screwed my face up in defiance and trotted down to the landing. “I’ll be back when I’ve got my brother.”

“Good luck, hotshot,” called the security stallion.

Footnote: KnickKnack

S.P.E.C.I.A.L.:
Strength: 4
Perception: 8
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 5
Luck: 5

Author's Note

Emergence is back off hiatus!
I never originally planned this prologue - I'd planned to start things straight out of the Stable and reference it later on.
The changes made were for the better, however.
Among other things, I've thrown in some bits and pieces for you to speculate about.

Chapter 1 will be back up after I've finished editing it so it suits the changes.
Chapter 2 is still going to take a bit, however. In spite of all the planning, not much of it was written before I went on hiatus.

Thanks to everyone who helped me out by reading the unfinished document and by talking to me about all the little details I needed to get right. Particularly my pals over at Drunk Blackjack.

~Immolated Poet

1 - Cling Clang Robotic Tango

Chapter 1: Cling Clang Robotic Tango

"I will require a hardware and software upgrade to offer enhanced services.”

Through the cavern outside the colossal door, marked 24, I stepped.

Klaxons rang once more as it slid closed. I remembered walking through here the first time – in the opposite direction. I made my way to the far wall, illuminating my path with my Pipbuck light, making sure to avoid the ancient bones lying in the earth.

I turned to my left as I reached the far wall and stepped out into the light.

There it shone – a great golden flower in the sky.

The cloud cover still stood when we escaped Stable 85 and were taken in by the Rangers, so this was the first time I had truly seen the sun. It was beautiful and magnificent.

I’d have plenty of time to bask in its brilliance, now, as I had a day’s trot ahead of me. North – that was where Short Wave said to go.

The north was something of a mystery. We learned about the areas to the West and South from Applejack’s Rangers. The capital of the old world – Canterlot – had been a city of choking death, now obliterated by the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Fillydelphia had become the slave capital of the wastes under a leader hell-bent on a goal only he truly understood. Cloudsdale, the largest city of the pegasi of the old world, was annihilated when the bombs fell. So much of our home lost and corrupted.

The north, however… to the northwest was what left of the Crystal Empire, about which not even the Rangers could tell us much, but to the northeast – from what I’d learned, that wasn’t even our homeland. It was beyond the borders of Equestria and we knew little of it.

But the unknown is better than certain death, right?

Right, yeah, let’s go with that.

Using my compass, I found north. Just as Short Wave had said, I could see the ocean far to my right and mountains on the distance to my left, with a whole lot of nothing in between. As I distanced myself from the Stable, I found that there was little disparity from the barren landscape, with only the scarcest evidence that there had ever been life here: bones and scraps of fallen structures, both half buried.

The occasional patch of grass was pitiful and brown, nothing like the fields of lush green grass we’d seen in books from before the war.

This didn’t come as a surprise, however. It wasn’t the first time I’d been outside, but the last time was a panicked rush in which everyone was more concerned about their own lives than the lack of life in the home of our ancestors.

As the day progressed, the sun’s heat intensified. It remained beautiful, but I was unused to that kind of heat. With only the thought of the beating sun to occupy me, I began to wonder if there really was a town off in the distance. I couldn’t see anything, only more flat land.

But no. No! I had no option but to go on. I wasn’t just an acceptable loss – I was going to find my brother and scour the land for the technology I needed to truly put my gifts to work. The enchanted gears on my flank told me my destiny lied in technomagical machinery and I was going to fulfil that destiny!

I trotted on; more determined than ever.

The day went by more quickly and eventually my doubts were dismissed with the mountain range’s end in sight. The sun had reached its peak and then descended to the horizon.

I kept my ears perked and eyes scouting for anything that could catch me unawares. From the Rangers, we’d learned about some of the dangers of the wastes - dangerous wildlife, harsh environments and ponies that will kill you just for the fun of it. Some of it had surely been embellished as it was passed from pony to pony, but I remained cautious nonetheless.

Staying in the Stable would have been much safer, but while I still maintained concerns of self-preservation, those included the preservation of my sanity and that place’s restricting walls and unshifting routine were slowly chipping away at my psyche. The wasteland held great possibilities that I just couldn’t resist. As well as danger, I reminded myself as I heard distant gunfire in the direction of the mountains.

Bravely and courageously, I decided to put the majority of my concentration into keeping as distant as possible from said gunfire, while simultaneously closing the distance between myself and what I hoped was a town; I ran.

As night fell I’d long since slowed to a trot, yet I’d travelled close enough to my destination to identify a silhouette that appeared to be a tall wall of scrap metal – sufficient enough criteria to have me convinced there could be a town ahead.

I jumped at the sound of gunshots, small twinges of fear striking my heart with each crack. They weren’t terribly far off – close enough for me to see the muzzle flash in the corner of my eye just before I heard the shots.

I turned my focus to the town. It would be safe if I just g-

A sickly cackle split the near silence and made me shiver to the core.

There are sounds that normal, sane ponies make and there are sounds like that. My heartbeat quickened as I picked up my pace picked up to a canter. It inclined towards a gallop as I heard more sounds that suggested I wasn’t alone. Giggling, scraping. Oh goddesses, they were getting closer and some of them were ahead of me!

“Hee, heeehaa, hehahahaa,” called a slow and uncomfortably close giggle.

Thump!

One moment I’d broken into full gallop. In the next, I’d come crashing into a form that I didn’t see until it was too late.

I am not a large stallion, but as I crashed into the dirt face first, I thankfully noted that the pony I’d struck was smaller than I as she skidded and rolled much further.

“FUCKING MEAT!” she screeched out frantically.

In that moment, the scene exploded into an ear-splitting chorus of disturbing screams, laughter and profanity.

My head and heart thundering, I scrambled to my hooves and galloped as quickly as I could towards the town. Shit, nonono, so close! A pair of stocky ponies rushed at me with clubs adorned with nails and gore. I narrowly avoided their heavy swings as they ran past me mumbling profanities with full mouths.

Such saving graces would be wasted if I didn’t get to safety soon, their relentless squeals of joy and promises of atrocious doings were beginning to ebb ever so slowly closer.

The crack of a pistol rang in my ears. Terror raced through my mind, even as I realised I was unharmed. More shots were fired and the pain of a glancing slug seared my left flank.

“I’M GONNA GELD YOU WITH YOUR OWN HORN!” called the malign voice of the mare I’d crashed into. Fuck, I could feel myself shaking as I pounded my way to the salvation of the town ahead. Not much further, but these psycho ponies were going to gut me just outside the town’s scrap walls.

My muscles screamed from exertion and too little oxygen, patches of my hide felt slick with sweat and my throat burned, but I couldn’t stop with those fiends on my tail, ready to grasp it and drag me in as their sick prize.

Closer.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ die, hornhead!”

Closer. Celestia’s mercy!

“First we’ll nail you to the floor and use you as a rug!”

Closer. More gunshots.

“Pretty ass you’ve got. It’s not gonna stay pretty for lo-!”

A flash from ahead and a shot rang through my ears.

My pursuers let out a scream of fury as I turned my head to see. The blood rushed from my face and I felt my stomach churn. Behind me were a number of savage faces and bloodshot eyes staring at me with a frenzied gaze, and behind them was a pony slumped on the ground, staring at me with a maniacal grin and a single, maddened eye. The other socket was vacant and lead right through his head.

I was so close to the town! Ahead of me, I could see the glow of unicorn magic on top of the wall of scrap. My hopes rose, but the horrors behind me left my heart threatening to tear itself from my chest with every thundering beat. All the while, said horrors voiced intentions of tearing and pain that was far more real.

Another flash and an ear-splitting splitting ring from ahead.

The gurgling, giggling shriek of death that followed was sickening, but it was also the sound of my salvation. I was so very close!

I felt a great force knocking my hind hooves from underneath me and I came crashing violently into the dirt. I scrambled and span desperately on to my back, managing to get my Pipbuck between my muzzle and the metal pipe aimed for it.

A raggedy and wild-eyed stallion dressed in a haphazard aggregation of scrap chuckled before striking again and again. My head cracked to the side as the pipe stuck across it. I curled my forehooves over my head and the air was driven from me in a gasp as the pipe slammed in to my stomach.

I looked up in horror as the stallion smiled, preparing to land the killing blow.

He then began to shake violently as his flesh was peppered with holes, bullets skewering his torso. I scrambled away quickly to avoid being trapped under my assailant’s body as he plummeted limply to the ground in a bloody heap.

As I rose to get away, I saw psycho ponies who had been only a few feet away turned tail and ran – spitting curses and threats.

When I turned back towards the town, there in front of the ramshackle wall of sheet metal and husks of some kind of vehicles stood two ponies. One was a blue-grey unicorn mare wearing armor and a helmet. The other was a portly, brown stallion with a blonde mane. In the magical gasp of the former was a sniper rifle, while the latter was wearing overalls wearing a saddle that held an automatic rifle instead of bags. They beckoned me over and I hastily approached, if clambering painfully from my contact with the crowbar.

“Stranger, what in hell are you doing out in the open like that?” the earth pony said with a priggish tone and a shake of his head.

As I sluggishly approached on burning legs, I responded with a shaky rasp.

“Sorry, it’s my first day.”

* * *

“You are one lucky stallion, friend,” the portly pony told me after he’d taken me into his shop – and home – while the armored mare returned to her post.

“You call that lucky? I was attacked b-by savage ponies!” I said, still shaking from the ordeal.

“And you lived,” he retorted. “Heck, you came out with bruises at worst. Those were raiders, the shit they scream out isn’t just theatrics; they mean what they say.”

“What – ‘I’m going to geld you with your own horn’? I mean, that’s just ridiculous, cutting my horn off would hurt more than the gelding!”

His sardonic smile told me that ‘ridiculous’ was something that raiders were known to be.

“What’s your name, Stable pony?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I, uh, KnickKnack.” Smooth.

A much larger smile spread across his wide jaw as he swept up one of my forehooves in both of his and shook it vigorously. “Sterling Sales at your service.”

My ears drooped, suddenly. “How did you know I came from a Stable?” I asked.

Sterling chuckled deeply. “Well, for starters, Knick-a-Knack, that blue getup with that yellow 85 was a pretty big tipoff.”

I pursed my lips, remembering that little detail.

“Second of all,” he continued, “you came out here beyond unprepared. You wouldn’t have made it to your age and gone out to the middle of nowhere without good preparation – unless you’d come from a Stable, of course.”

“I brought provisions with me - food, water, a bedroll, among other things.” I protested, fiddling through my saddlebag and levitating out some items as evidence.

Sterling Sales shook his head condescendingly. “Those provisions are all well and good, long as you stay alive long enough to need ‘em – and you almost didn’t. What I’m talking about is a means of protection.” He proceeded to trot behind the counter, grabbing a mass of folded black fabric in his teeth along the way. The coarse fabric was placed on top of the counter, as was a rifle from underneath.

“Some protective barding and a gun should be a good start. You’re a unicorn, so you won’t need a battle saddle for the rifle. Quick Glimpse can teach you to use it.”

“Well, son, I think I can part with these items for about… five hundred caps.” He said that last part with a smirk. He was waiting for me to incredulously ask ‘caps?!.’

Thanks to Short Wave, he wasn’t catching me out with that one.

“Oh sure thing,” I said as I opened up a saddlebag and levitated a pouch full of caps onto the counter.

His smirk didn’t shift. “Ah. Bits, I take it?” he asked as he untied the pouch. “They’re still viable currency here, but we use bottle ca- Well I’ll be. Guess the last Stable Ponies passing through here must’ve shared that little bit of info. I thought you looked like one of them, the tall, yellow one.”

I flushed and scuffed the floor with a hoof. “That would be my older brother, Sturdy.”

Sterling chuckled again. “So they go the thing alright? They didn’t run back with their tail between their legs and send you to have a go, did they?”

I laughed unenthusiastically. “No, no. They got the talisman.”

“Well that’s good to hear. I’m sure you’ve got your reasons to be here, but for now I’ll part this gear to you. Sadly, you don’t seem to have enough. Looks like about a hundred in here.” He then proceeded to tip the contents of the bag out so he could count them. “I’ll help you find some work around town to pay me back.”

Before he began counting, however, he pushed my end of the trade closer to my side of the counter. My focus, however, had become fixated on the intricate – if battered – orb of metal in the display case behind the merchant.

“Now I get that you Stable ponies may not be used to trading, but here’s the part where you pick up your goo-“

“What is that?” I pointed a hoof up towards the beaten machine.

Sterling turned around to see where I was pointing. He pulled the machine down from the shelf. It was about the size of a pony’s head, with antennas, and what appeared to be insect wings, sticking out of it. The front resembled a radio, but much more heavy duty, and just below the speaker-like grate was the barrel of some kind of weapon.

“What? This Spritebot?” he inquired. “Dang thing’s been in here since before I set up shop. Don’t know how it got here, but I’ve kept it as an ornament for the shop. What’s your fascination with it?”

I let slip a boisterous grin. “I think I can fix your Spritebot.”

Sterling cocked an eyebrow. “You’re saying don’t know what this is, but somehow you know how to fix it?”

I wasn’t entirely sure, but I don’t have a set of gears with swirling, arcane energy on my flanks for nothing; machines are my specialty. “I’ll admit, I’ve never seen anything like it, but machines are my business and I probably won’t have too much trouble figuring it out.”

Sterling Silver was hesitant at first, but he soon placed the Spritebot on the counter in front of me. I was practically dizzy with excitement and started laying out tools and scraps of metal and electronics from my saddlebag on to the counter in preparation.

It didn’t take me long to crack it open and find all the problems in the wiring. With the circuit restored and the faulty spark battery replaced, the Spritebot flickered with life. It still looked pretty miserable, due to the beating it’d received. The casing, wings and antennas took a little improvising, but the important thing is that they were working.

Finally it came to the bot’s mounted weapon. While I’d never fired a gun, I had studied the inner workings of firearms, both mundane and magical. This may or may not have been largely due to boredom and Stable terminals.

The weapon was clearly of the magical variety and what I found when I opened it up to check the gem cartridge, what was inside had me practically jittering on my hooves from excitement. A small squeaking noise emitted from my mouth.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked, levitating the cartridge in front of Sterling Silver’s face.

“A gem cartridge – why’s that got you so giddy?”

“Because this is not just any gem cartridge, this is a breeder cartridge! While most gem cartridges expire their gems with usage, this little cell’s gems generate energy in chain reactions that produce more fissile material than they consume. That means this cartridge has effectively limitless energy! I’m fairly certain these cells only induce said reactions while they’re being used, though, otherwise this cell probably would have become unstable and blown this shop sky high by now.”

Sterling looked jovial, “Son, I have no idea what in Tartarus you just said, but I think I’ve got a well-paying job that’s going to require an egghead like yours.”

* * *

I love machines, but they can really suck sometimes.

Take a pitching machine, for example. An innocent enough contraption in and of itself, until you rig it up with a cluster of ‘borrowed’ spark batteries to try and get it to pelt some bullies in the face with that extra oomph – then something goes wrong, the balls start firing out with about ten times the force they’re supposed to, at you, at point blank range. Next thing you know, you’re in medical with a concussion, some nasty bruises and a newfound hatred of sports.

As a colt, I learned many lessons about machines through failures like that.

Of course, there are more pressing and recent examples, such as automated turrets letting out a volley of projectiles much deadlier than baseballs at you because you forgot to look up before turning a corner. I was lucky enough to scramble back behind the doorway as the bullets littered the ground where I’d stood, but this was a lesson I’d rather not learn the hard way.

While I recovered behind the door frame, my little Spritebot friend – who I endearingly named Clive – let out a series of beeps that suggested he wasn’t thrilled with the turret’s disposition towards us. Clive zipped around the corner from which I’d just come and let off a succession of red flashes that left the turret a smoking heap of scrap in the ceiling. Re-entering the room, I was greeted with Clive floating over to me – seemingly excited, from the jittery nature of its movement – and rubbing itself against my cheek. There were some small dents from where the turret had fired on Clive, but after getting it working I spent some time the next day reinforcing Clive’s hull – as well as getting some lessons on firearms from Quick Glance, the sniper pony who had, along with Sterling, saved my life the previous night.

I really did try to learn what she’d taught me about keeping focus, breathing right and accounting for the gun’s perspective – as opposed to my own – because of using it telekinetically. I understood the theory and could apply it while getting ready to fire – I’m none too shabby at using my eyes, ears and brain in unison – but when it came to firing the gun, everything went wrong. The first time I fired, the rifle flew out of my grip and into my muzzle – another lesson in pain that was learned from a machine.

After I’d assessed how much force I needed to hold the rifle with while firing, I continued to run into blunder after blunder. Safeties were flipped; magazines were ejected. One time I somehow managed to attack one of the Sparkle Cola bottles we were practicing on with the rifle while trying to pull the trigger. I had never had so many problems with such a simple contraption!

My unicorn teacher simply laughed and said she was glad I had Clive – whose accuracy proved to be formidably calibrated – but I got the indication she thought Sterling’s job wouldn’t end well for me.

Ah yes, the job. After a night’s sleep in a dilapidated building next to Sterling’s shop, the jovial merchant gave me the tour of the town – Palom.

Inside the walls of iron and steel was the remainder of a small village from before the war. Facing northeast were the large makeshift gates through which I had entered. Behind that, leading southwest was a long street which had a smaller gate on the other end. In between the gates was a cottage behind the main gates and a row either side of the road of near-identical buildings, all lined up right next to each other. The only exceptions to this rule being the structures reduced to rubble.

As we trotted along the cracked road, Sterling pointed out places of interest in between telling me about the Robronco factory not too far outside Palom and what he wanted me to do there. I occasionally interjected to correct him calling me ‘Knick-a-Knack’.

The buildings still standing made up Sterling’s general store, a clinic, a bar, café and housing – with all but the housing identified by fitting pictorial signs hanging out front. The cottage near the main gates apparently served as extra housing and as a meeting place for the ponies who took responsibility for the town. The walls included guard posts at both gates and outside the walls was a large pen for livestock and a cemetery.

It wasn’t a large town, but it was clearly a functioning community. They seemed to get by with two-headed cows called brahmin and trade with travelling merchants and other communities. Some of the townsfolk even prospected, but Sterling informed me that without the proper technical know-how, much of what was in the Robronco facility was worthless.

That’s where I came in. Sterling Sales offered to supply and pay me to restore some of the automatons in the Robronco facility, then program them for specific functions. He said he could then sell them to interested parties – which ultimately comprised of the merchants, who could do with robotic guards; the local doctor, who wouldn’t mind an assistant with steady appendages; the brahmin farmers, who would sleep soundly knowing there’s a Ponitron protecting their livestock from the local wildlife; and a buyer that was not specified in any way that had interested in a ‘special’ model. He said I’d have to find a specific model for that one and that I’d know when I see it.

Back to pressing matters, Clive and I continued through the offices of the Robronco facility, past the blasted turret, to what appeared to be a garage, which lead to a towering room lined with a network of metal staircases and catwalks. Also present were a pair of tracked robots with what appeared to be brains in a domed glass cases.

“Please remain still,” requested the calm, synthesised voice of a filly.

“While we eliminate your presence from the premises,” stated the other.

Oh wonderful, creepy robots with biological brain just weren’t creepy enough, so they made them sound like children. What the actual fuck, Robronco?

“What the f-” Was all I got out before having to dive behind a workbench to avoid a pair of magical beams aimed straight at my head.

While I clumsily tried to aim and fire the rifle in my telekinetic from behind the bench, Clive assaulted the Brainbots with erratic shots from its beam gun, right at their brainboxes. My efforts proved to be largely futile, as I only seemed to be able to hit the creepy machines’ bodies.

“Please don’t hide, it’ll make this much easier for everypony if you come out and let us kill you.” Okay, these things were officially an eleven on the creepiness scale. Thankfully, it wasn’t to last, as I managed to get a lucky shot that shattered the case of one of the machines, leaving it to go limp and slump over next to its companion.

“YES!” I bellowed, leaping up from cover, hooves in the air, in a moment of self-gratification.

My first victory with the rifle was sweet, but short-lived as a beam singed the chest of my protective kevlar barding, making me scurry behind cover once more.

That seemed to set off Clive, who emitted an array of angry-sounding beeps and unleashed a fury of blasts at the aberration, putting it down.

With our skirmish ended, team KnickKnack winning almost flawlessly (okay, not so much, but we came out pretty unscathed), my gesticulative companion began to zip around my head. It stopped only after I held it still with a hoof.

Before proceeding, I skilfully pried open the Brainbots with a screwdriver from my maintenance kit, all the while trying not to think of the brains in the remains of the cases. This wasn’t easy; two hundred year old, preserved brain is not the most pleasant aroma.

Aside from the scrap metal and electronics, I managed to score an undamaged spark battery from one of them.

Feeling a little queasy, we proceeded to the stairs to the catwalks.

It wasn’t long before we came across a locked door splitting off from one of said catwalks with ‘Maintenance’ stencilled on it. Through the small window in the top of the door, I could see a number of pods with dormant machines waiting to be rebooted to follow the will of their long-dead masters once more.

Jackpot.

Now, for an Earth pony, a Pegasus or a one-trick unicorn, bobby pins and a screwdriver would be the obvious go-to option for opening a locked door. I, however, have a special trick for hand such a situation.

Concentrating on the door, my magic enveloped a circular section of it near the handle about ten inches in diameter. I then placed my hoof in the area of my glow, which passed right through the door and to the other side. I pressed on the handle on the opposite side and with a faint click, the door opened.

Isn’t magic great?

The next hour or so was spent assessing which of the automatons were fit for service, infiltrating the terminals of those suitable and rewriting their programming as best I could to be a little more amiable. They’d be able to assess friends and foes, and would be able to follow basic instructions. I couldn’t really do much for the spider-like unit I’d chosen as the doctor’s assistant, but as long as she didn’t try to get it to perform the surgeries itself, it would be perfectly suited to the role.

I booted them up – seven in all – and watched keenly as the machines came to life. Most of them were roughly the shape of a pony and walked in a distinctly rigid manner, but two of them levitated gracefully, with their many-jointed limbs free. They were wondrous things.

Now with a small army of robots in my wake, I needed to locate the ‘special’ model Sterling Sales wanted. A terminal mounted at a desk in the maintenance room seemed promising for information.

A few hooftaps later and I was in the terminal belonging to the head of maintenance. I acknowledged, grimly, the pony skeleton lying near the desk and identified it as the probable holder of that title. It was a little discomforting looking through the personal messages of a long-dead pony who was right there with me, but I had a job to do and I intended to finish it.

The terminal’s personal logs revealed a number of technical messages that I had no interest in, but a few of the received messages held some…. Interesting content.

>Have you heard about the new model we’ve got down in storage? Wait, duh, head of maintenance. Anyway, is it true about the functions it’s supposed to have? That it’s meant for, well, sex? They seem to look a lot more like normal ponies than Ponitrons, and I’ve heard when you activate it and open up the back there’s all this crazy hardware for whatever you’re into.

>All the rumours were true, huh? Well, not that I’m into that or anything, but wouldn’t it be cool if we got one sent to maintenance? Y’know, to check out and stuff, see how it all works.

>Oh man! The boss had me take a look at one today - up in his office, funnily enough. Guess he appreciates them from more than a sales perspective. Anyway, shit’s great, you’ve never seen anything like it – grade-A hardware, knowwhatimsayin? Anyway, it wasn’t broken or anything, the genius who runs this place just accidentally wiped all the data for it clean and forgot his fucking terminal password. I had to reset the password and assign a new one. Just in case he does this again while on your shift I’ll save you the trouble – I set his new password as ‘clockwork’.

Well now I had knowledge of least one model in this facility, a location in the approximate direction of ‘up’, and I had a nine letter password that I would have had a doozy of a time likely failing to get my way into – pretty straightforward.

It would have been, except for the turret in the doorway of the office up on high. With a menagerie of machines blocking the way behind me, I didn’t really have much of a choice but to dive straight into the office and take some bullets to the barding. I felt the punch of the rounds as their impact was dispersed by the layers of Kevlar, the bullets pancaking against the strong fabric.

I didn’t have any guarantee the turret would only hit my barding, though, so I needed to get myself quite quickly acquainted with cover. The turret didn’t get the opportunity to shoot my flanks to shreds, however, because of the robots outside the door aligned to me.

As I skidded behind the factory manager’s desk, the turret exploded, the ceiling scorched from red beams and jets of flame. Following that, Clive zipped over to me as I crawled out, beeping at me, seemingly worried. For a robot, Clive’s behaviour was perplexing.

I sat down to open up my barding and check out the damage. At the same time, I scanned the office around me. While the two hundred years of neglect and disrepair was still evident, this room felt like it always looked nicer than the rest of the factory. The wallpaper was peeling and the carpet stripped under my hooves, but this place at least had carpet and wallpaper, the rest of the facility was clearly drab and depressing even before the war – all steel and concrete, like a Stable.

I noted the well-preserved oak desk as I inspected the bruises on my shoulder and side, chugging a healing potion to relieve the soreness. I also noted the humming terminal on it as I applied a pair of magical bandages to the wounds. Last of all, as I closed up both my Stable and protective barding, I noted the pod in the corner containing the silvery, equine shape. There was my prize. Er… ah… Sterling’s prize, or his ‘buyer’s’. The prize.

Slipping behind the oak desk, I was relieved to find the terminal’s owner wasn’t present.

>Enter Password

>clockwork

>Password accepted

>/ Welcome, USER

Brilliant! No messing around with guessing passwords and trying to work with matching letters and such. That went like, well, I know there’s a word for this. Ah well, doesn’t matter.

As expected, the terminal had options to activate the machine in the pod, but first I had to go through, like I had with the others, and change some of the coding to identify friendlies more like my Pipbuck’s E.F.S. wou… Oh dear. The sharp and observant KnickKnack had forgotten to activate his Eyes Forward Sparkle – the Pipbuck’s magical hostility detector. For that matter, he’d forgotten another feature that would have been useful before – the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell.

One correction and a mental note to use S.A.T.S. later, I was back to reprogramming and activating the robot across the room.

The pod opened with a hiss and with careful, rigid steps, out came the most pony-like robot I’d ever seen. That really wasn’t saying much, since all it took was the right shape and number of legs to outdo the machines in the hall outside the door, but this thing was uncanny. It had no mane or tail, but other than that, it had the appearance of a pony whose coat was made entirely of lustrous metal, but for the rubber tubing around the joints - probably to avoid mishaps during, ahem, activities.

The face was genderless and blank, with glassy eyes that scanned the room indolently. I approached, wondering if there were any marks to suggest a model name for it. Scanning over the body, I noticed something engraved on the flank. I placed my hoof underneath it and looked closer to read ‘BD-0024’, but before I could consider what BD could possibly stand for, from the nethers of the ponydroid came a hiss and a thunk, followed by its androgynous synthesised voice.

“Do you wish to assume the position, or will I?”

“What? No! I don’t want to assume the position,” I blurted, horrified by the presence of one of the ponydroid’s special features. I’m really not sure the size of that thing was safe.

“Affirmative, assuming the position,” it intoned, slotting the unit back inside and turning away from me, positioning itself to show its… Oh Goddesses no.

“Please, just put all that away and let’s get out of here.” I waved my hooves in front of my face and turned my head away.

Thankfully, the ponydroid stood back up and closed a panel over what it had been waving in my face.

Before leaving the room, I scavenged the manager's’ office. My findings were not fantastic – a 10mm pistol and some ammunition, half a dozen bottlecaps, two unopened bottles of Sparkle Cola and a Fancy Buck Snack Cake, still in the wrapper. Well at least I had something to eat on the way back and an easier gun to practice with. I slotted the pistol into a holster provided by the protective barding and threw the rest into my saddlebag, letting my Pipbuck’s magic organise things, keeping the important things above the various scrap my Pipbuck was telling me I’d collected in my short journey.

I repeat – isn’t magic great?

Before properly leaving for Palom, I took the opportunity to explore the rest of the factory, pulling apart some of the more interesting and advanced contraptions and instruments for future use – little projects and designs still in planning.

Once I was done, I decided it was time to head back to Palom.

It was getting a little dark as I left the factory to head back on the mile or so walk back. I wasn’t really worried, though, I had my E.F.S. on and an entourage of automatons armed with magical beam weapons – and flamers, to boot.

The first red marker to show up turned out to be a bloatsprite – a horribly mutated variety of a pest from old Equestria. Pretty far away, so if I kept ahead of the robots, I could run in with S.A.T.S. and take it out with the pistol. I cantered up until I thought I was close enough to hit the disgusting-looking, totally-the-opposite-of-cute flying creature that resembled a tumorous, squishy Clive.

I opened up S.A.T.S. and time slowed considerably around me. I wasn’t really into sports in the Stable to use it for targeting in games, and I’d never used it for combat before, but the concept was fairly simple – pick a target, enter in your sequence of shots and then accept to fire said shots with magically-assisted accuracy.

I was quite excited to follow this process through with relative ease, programming three pistol shots to the sprite’s bulging body. As time returned to normal, I wish I could say I watched the bloatsprite burst into a bloody pulp. Instead, my magically-assisted shots flew too wide, too high and the final bullet was a complete blunder that was fired into the ground a few feet from me, blasting the ground and spraying some of it into my face.

I decided it was best to make a tactical retreat, forming back up with my robotic troops and letting them blast the sprite with hot death.

Nearing the town of Palom, something seemed off. I thought I could hear the sharp ring of Quick Glances’ rifle. My ears twitched at other sounds, some of it was gunfire, but the rest was too far off to identify clearly.

I could then see smoke rising from behind the walls.

My suspicions were confirmed as I galloped towards the town. The noises became clearer, and the red bars on my E.F.S. gave me a good idea of what was going on – the raiders had come back.

Wild screaming pierced the air and was responded to with gunfire. Heaving open a gate and stepping around the cottage behind it, I could see Raiders running rampant along the long street, lighting fires and shooting wildly. There were corpses, but I discerned that the townsfolk were held up in the buildings by the locations of the green on my E.F.S. Of course, that left me as the only pony in the streets with those red bars.

Oh dear Goddesses, all of those red bars…

“Stop screwing around, you dumbfucks! Bust down those doors and splay some mules!” a voice I recognised called. Standing in front of Sterling’s shop, barking orders at other raiders, was a mare with a pink coat and flaming red mane. She was dressed in makeshift barding, but I could see her cutie mark – a mangled pony skull.

Clearly catching the movement in the corner of her eye, the leader oriented her head in my direction, her face splitting into a manic grin.

I began to back away.

“Lookie here!” she said, turning to trot in my direction. As she sauntered towards me, the raiders trying to get into Sterling’s shop followed. I could see the blood splattered on her dirty, scarred face. The bat tucked into her makeshift scrap barding was packed with spikes and was even bloodier than her face – evidently not all of it new, from the dark stains. I hadn’t been able to look at her properly that night, but I knew this was the mare who claimed she’d do unspeakable things with my horn. She recognised me, too.

“It’s the fucking hornhead Stablepony who ran from us like a little bitch last night. Thought this little town could protect you, bitch?” she spat as she sauntered ever closer, taking her time to strike fear into my heart. It was a valid tactic and was extraordinarily effective at shaking my confidence and making my heart race, but a twitch in her face told me that she’d spotted my friends.

All well and good that she’d registered that my robots outgunned her raiders, but apparently that was no deterrent for her to break into a thundering pace at me, wielding her bloody, spiked bat. Oh fuck!

Her grin was terrifying, it split almost inequinely wide and her cheeks were dripping blood. Her eyes promised a painful death.

I equipped my rifle.

While a pony skilled with guns may have dropped into S.A.T.S. and shot her right between the yellowed, bloodshot eyes, it was a much safer bet for me to backpedal around the cottage, guard my face however I could and wait ‘til the cavalry blasted her.

The raiders clambered on behind their leader. Bullets and beams exchanged. She thundered around the cottage. I tried to dodge. She leapt forward, hooves wide. We hit the ground with me on my back and her on top. She smelled like refuse and sweat.

Her forehead crunched against my snout – smell replaced with pain. I yelped and she chuckled as she brought out her bat. I tried to pull it from her grip with magic. Failure called for covering my face.

A clang was the bell that signalled my chance. She recoiled, having impacted my Pipbuck. I swept my rifle back into my magical grip. The barrel kissed her forehead. I fired.

Her head jerked as the bullet passed through her skull and burst, violently, out the back of her head. I dropped my rifle as I watched her eyes become vacuous and hollow, then yelped as the lifeless shell came crashing down on me.

Dear goddesses! Even as I laid there in shock underneath the dead mare, blood that was not just her own trickling on to my face, her grin persisted. It was like she knew she’d trapped me there while her fellow raiders were closing in to rip me to shreds like a pack of wolves. My sore muscles locked from sheer horror.

Screeching, concerned beeps from a familiar Spritebot tore my focus away from the mare and back to the imminent threat. Clive was beaten away by a mucky yellow mare with a length of rebar in her mouth. I scrambled away as she struck down with it to impale me and the rebar pierced through the raider I'd killed instead.

Her eyes flared in rage as she realised her skewer was stuck. I took my chance and swept up the spiked bat to go on the offensive. It was crude and brutal, but was the best chance I had.

Only one problem, it occurred to me too late that there were other maddened ponies still milling about - ones that could strike me in the skull with something hard and heavy.

The solid thunk reverberated in my head as I flew back towards my robot reinforcements, tumbling in a limp heap. My vision began to fade as screams of victory were cried. The last thing I heard was piercing, enraged beeping before... black.

* * *

My forelegs were tied up above me, the tips of my rear hooves just barely touching the ground. Around me, concrete, a cell with grimy walls and bloodstained floor.

On a chair in the corner sat a pony with a leather cowl, with tufts of pink mane sticking out, along with brown ears and horn. His indifferent, glass eyepieces did not betray his mood, but a tap on the medical trolley that held scalpels, forceps and other bloodied medical equipment gave me an inkling he was grinning underneath that mask. I shook involuntarily, imagining what he’d planned for me.

The other ponies in my Stable had told me not to leave. Anypony I expressed my desire to had said I wasn’t the kind of stallion who could just run out of the Stable and expect to live more than a day. The Bolt twins, Molly and Toggle, had laughed at me; mom’s concern made me feel like a colt; dad was certain I’d die; the Overmare said I was an acceptable loss. Even Short Wave, who had told me where to go, seemed to have little hope I’d survive. The wasteland held only my death, and they knew it, but I had to risk it, I had to!

My assurance of this was significantly diminished by my situation and my fear, and even more so by the dirty, tan stallion that opened the door with a strong kick, scaring me and gaining a throaty chuckle from the masked pony.

This pony was scarred and tattooed across his body, with a spiky mane style that stood straight up in bright green spikes. He was thin from malnourishment, but muscular. Yellow and feverish eyes were paired with a mouth holding sickening scowl and filled with rotten, sharpened teeth. His cutie mark was a severed head. Everything about him screamed ‘raider’.

“What a pretty little prize we’ve got here. We’re gonna make you hurt, fuckface,” he seethed, looking up at me. I clenched my eyes shut.

“LOOK AT ME, YOU FUCKING CUNT!” He whipped a hoof across my snout - my already broken snout, the fragments of which felt much further out of place. As the blood trickled down my mouth and chin, the stallion’s hateful expression twitched, but softened as I met his eyes. This was a sick and malicious killer; I knew that expression was feigned.

“That’s a good little shit,” he said. “Now.”

He struck me in the stomach.

“You.” Again.

“Are.” And again.
“Going.” And again
“To.” And again.
“Hurt!” And again.

As I gasped for air, he made a sickening laugh. Sick bastard.

“I’m going to enjoy this. Some of the fucks you killed were fucks I LIKED TO HAVE AROUND!”

One final blow followed that and he turned to sit in the corner across from the masked unicorn.

“Go on, Snick, he’s all yours now,” the raider grinned.

Snick let out another throaty chuckle before standing up, levitating his tools to follow him.

And then the pain began.

* * *

Waking up in a cold sweat, I was glad to be drawn back into reality. I thanked the Goddesses that was a nightmare. The feeling of unspeakable defiling acts upon my being still lingered in my mind, taking their time to slither away into my subconscious.

I was lying on a gurney, and was thankfully not tied up. Looking around, the reason was apparent from the curtains, jarringly bright lights, alabaster floor and the medical trolley that made my heart skip a beat - not to mention the pervading smell of disinfectant. The smell, my snout!

Raising my hooves to my snout to rub it joyously, I noticed that my legs didn’t burn from muscular pains.

The wonders of healing magic were plentiful, but the aching in my head told me that I’d been hit with a hell of a blow before I passed out.

On the medical trolley, I spotted a small mirror that I swept up to got a good look and make sure my features were all still in the same place. I noticed no real difference in my appearance – same tan coat, same dark and light orange mane, same turquoise eyes, and no horrific facial disfigurations. That could have ended worse.

“Hey, look who’s awake,” uttered an airy, unfamiliar voice nearby. Moving the mirror away, I saw a fern green unicorn in white, slightly bloody fatigues. She appeared to be a bit older than me.

Her lack of leathery cowl was a relief.

“I’m Stitches, the doc here in Palom, as you’ve probably guessed,” she said, motioning herself with a hoof. “KnickKnack, right?”
“That’s, yeah that’s right,” I said with a little uncertainty as I stepped off the gurney. “Thanks, umm… for the work on the face I mean. But how’d I get in here?”

“Well,” Stitches said, looking concerned. “Quick Glance dragged you in here after the raiders were taken care of. Said it was thanks to those robots that she and the other townsfolk were able to take them out without getting half the town killed. She also said that you brought them with you to town.”

Hang on, robots? I was suddenly aware of the absence of my emotive Spritebot companion.

“Stitches, do you know where Clive is?” I quavered.

“Clive?” she asked, showing clear confusion.

“My Spritebot - he was with me when I blacked out.”

Stitches frowned. “You mean that little beeping little pest? It followed you and Quick Glance in here, but it wouldn’t keep quiet and kept buzzing around you like a lost pet.” She waved her hoof about to mimic the erratic motion. “We had to turn it off. Glance said she’d take it to Sterling Sales while you were out.”

Relief washed over me at the news Clive was okay. Knowing that Sterling would want to see me, I collected my possessions from behind the gurney and left to see the merchant pony. As I walked out, I noticed other gurneys in the room with injured ponies. I was one of the lucky ones, especially since there were surely fatalities on Palom’s side, not just on the raiders’.

The town was a mess, even for a wasteland town. Considering they were just attacked by savage ponies known for murdering and pillaging, the mess – particularly the bloody splatters and piles of ash – was entirely forgivable.

I saw Sterling Sales out the front of his store transacting with an anxious-looking pony who seemed eager to buy one of the Ponitrons Sterling had lined up in front of the shop. Along with them were the floating, multi-limbed bots. Notably missing were Clive and the ponydroid, BD-0024.

His business concluding as I approached, Sterling shot me one of his grins.
“Here he is, the stallion of the hour! Get over here, partner,” he called, his voice ringing. I approached only for the rosy-brown pony to sweep me into his grasp with a hoof, and consequently into his store.

“You did a damn fine service to this town, son, with both the bots and your arrival during the raider attack,” he declared, leaving me in bafflement from the sudden wave of praise as Sterling undid the strap of my saddlebag, swiped it away and ducked behind his counter, grinning all the while. The grinning merchant returned hastily and threw my saddlebag back to me with his mouth. I reflexively caught it in my magic, but noticed it was considerably heavier than before, rising up to stop it with my hooves before it crashed into my face.

Lowering the saddlebag, I found myself staring straight at a familiar, metal sphere. Clive jittered enthusiastically and let out a piercing beep, rushing to brush up against my cheek.

One reunion later, I strapped on my bag back telekinetically and I noticed new items flash up in my inventory. One such addition was about eight hundred caps. Score! I decided to check on the other things later, however, as the sound of hoofsteps at the door caught my attention. I directed my gaze towards the sound and there was Palom’s helmeted sniper pony, looking rather irate.

"Sterling, what in Tartarus is this?” Quick Glance bellowed. “We're recovering from a raider attack and you've got all those robots lined up out the front for sale like you’re going out of business! We have dead to bury and mourn, repairs to be made, everypony – and that includes you – needs to pitch in for this. Hell, even you could lend a hoof, KnickKnack. I'm pretty sure those raiders came here to fuck us up the ass because they wanted you after you got away from them the other night."

Sterling Sales kept an even, profound tone as he spoke, "I'm doing my part for Palom, and KnickKnack lent a big hoof in said part, too. The townsfolk are going to want to stock up to prepare themselves for whatever the wasteland throws at us next. I'm keeping my store open, and on sale, to provide for the good folks who need it. Chief among what I offer are those robots out front. They'll help protect and serve our town; you saw how effective they proved last night."

Quick Glance harrumphed, but seemed to accept that the merchant would stay stalwart about his position in helping the town.

Quick Glance then locked her gaze on me.

"I'll let Sterling get away with being an ass and staying here to make a profit, but you're coming with me to help, Stablepony. C'mon." She yanked my barding with her magic.

Not wanting to draw the ire of the sniper pony, I obliged, following her out of the store.

On the way to whatever job she had in mind, Quick Glance struck up a conversation. "Why'd you come out here to the ruins of Equestria, KnickKnack? You seem to have known well enough that you'd probably get killed in the wasteland, but you weren’t prepared enough to avoid that happening. What exactly are you looking for our here and how exactly did you plan to find it, underprepared as you are?"

I took a deep breath and considered how much I’d tell her. “I didn’t really have a lot of choice in the preparation department, but I also couldn’t stay. There’s something important to me out here. It’s up to me to find it and I can’t rely on anybody from Stable 24 to help.”

Glance looked concerned “What is it, exactly? Are you looking for something important to your Stable. A pony, perhaps?”

I tried to choose my words carefully. “I have… ideas. Concepts, inventions. The wasteland holds resources and information to help make these a reality.”

“What?!” she asked incredulously. “You’re going to risk your life, and the lives of others, to- to make little gadgets and, I don’t know, multi-storey couches?”

I flushed, embarrassed that she’d wildly misinterpreted my ambitions and made them sound trivial and silly.

“No no,” I said as I waved a hoof, “let me explain. Back in the Stables 85, and in Stable 24, I was an engineer and a technician. I did all kinds of jobs - manufacturing parts, making repairs, looking at ways we could improve our current systems – but there was no real freedom to explore my talent.

Maintaining Stables is not what I got these gears for. I got my cutie mark creating contraptions out of whatever I could in my spare time, and I had some really fantastic ideas. Unfortunately, I couldn’t exactly pull apart integral parts of the Stable, even if I was sure I could create a sequence of mechanisms that could get a pony out of bed and get them ready in the morning or a set of boots that would let you run on the ceiling.”

Quick Glance’s twisted, confused expression told me I’d best sum up what I had to say.

“Anyway, after the destruction of Stable 85, I was inspired by the myriad of technology I knew still had to be out here. Out here, I have the freedom to put my talent to the test and create some amazing things. Knowing that technology I’d only read about in the past could be out here was maddening. I know it can be to be put to use; it could be used for the benefit of the wasteland!”

The blue-grey unicorn closed her eyes and shook her head, but I spotted a hint of a smile there.

“I’m not going to pretend I agree with, or even understand what part of that could have possibly made it a good idea to face the wasteland, but if you want to be a stupid suicidal fucking idiot, so be it. If you believe in all of that crap about cutie marks giving an indication of a pony’s ‘destiny’, then I’ve got no place stopping you from following your ‘fate’.”

I’m not sure exactly what made me avoid mentioning my brother, but the trip to the factory made me realise that I might just be able to manage without him.

Footnote: Level up

New Perk: Heedful Traveller -- You’ve learned to exercise caution in the wastes. You gain +2 Perception during random encounters and are considerably less likely to have hostile random encounters.

Author's Note

Re-releasing this, finally! Chapter 2 can finally begin.
That was a complete ass of a hiatus, but hey, I made it through eventually. With help.
Thanks to KKat for the wonderful world of FoE, to people on FiMFic and FoE resource who've helped inspire me, thank you to people who've given critique and to the friends who helped me with the actual writing process. Tsunderstruck, NobbleyKyle, milibron212, Peaceful Treasure, Interloper, Fountain Pen and Nesto Navarro, to name a few.
Love you guys.
Yes, even you, Interloper.

2 - A Rock in a Cold Place

Chapter 2: A Rock in a Cold Place

“... a civilian? How in tartarus did a civilian get on this base? I'll have somepony's flank for dinner! Get this civilian off government property!”

In the past two centuries, all in Equestria had become used to the perpetual presence of an all-consuming layer of clouds blanketing the skies. The Grand Pegasus Enclave sat above, relishing in the sun while far away from the wasteland. Everypony else wallowed below in… whatever it is that ponies wallow in.

With the fall of the Enclave, the skies cleared and those below saw the light of day for the first time in two hundred years. This meant that the presence of clouds were greatly undesired, particularly as the town of Palom lamented those lost the night before; the day was sombre enough without the sky closing up once more.

Palom was not my town, the dead were not ponies I knew, yet the attack was partially because of my presence there and I felt I fit in only slightly better than the clouds. Ponies seemed to be content to let me help, however, particularly since Quick Glance had me assisting in the initial reparation efforts – which fell comfortably under my skillset.

As the day came to a close, a small ceremony was held held, which is where I really felt my attendance greatly unnecessary. However, even Sterling Sales left his shop to attend the burial and I knew Quick Glance would not have let me slip away.

As a prayer to the Princesses was made for the deceased, I stood alongside my floating companion and the two ponies who welcomed me into the town. Grim faces surrounded me in the drizzling afternoon; even Sterling lacked all mirth.

When the prayer was over, Quick Glance stood in front of the ponies of the town she protected and gave a speech. “The wasteland is a cruel place, ponies. It tries to beat us down each and every day, throwing famine at us to empty our bellies, disease to take away our strength, and raiders to invade our homes and slaughter our kin. But you know what? We’re still standing and we can still live on.

“You see those fucking clouds, reminding us of days past? They’re not here to stay, but we are! There’s hope still! We’ve lost loved ones, but we avoided a much worse fate because of the robots that will now help protect this town. Good job, Stablepony. And Sterling, I know you’re too much of a cap-pinching bastard to give ‘em out for free – but please make those robots affordable, will ya?”

She and Sterling exchanged an amused smirk and the rest of the town seemed to have their morale improved. Everypony then began to head their separate ways and Sterling Sales insisted that Quick Glance and I join him for a drink.

“…so then I got kicked out of town with nothing but the clothes on my back and half my tail burned off – and that’s how I ended the relationship with my first marefriend!” the rotund earth pony stated, chortling heartily before taking another swig of his cider.

Quick Glance and I exchanged a look before breaking into laughter at Sterling’s story. It wasn’t all that hilarious, but inebriation helped make it seem so. My drinking companions then encouraged me to tell a story of mine. I had no real exciting stories about mares, but the tale of the activation of ‘BD-0024’ sent the blue-grey unicorn howling into tears and made Sterling’s cheeks flare up.

“A-anyway, onto more serious matters, what do you plan on doing from here, KnickKnack?” the embarrassed earth pony asked.

“Well, I was hoping you could give me some info on anywhere around here that might have some advanced pre-war tech around. The Robronco factory had some useful paraphernalia, but I scavenged through there and from what I could tell it was just a distributor and didn’t really have anything spectacular that I’ll need. I’m looking for something more like a research and development facility, or a competing company that operated more with arcano-tech – maybe even an old military complex.”

My explanation drew an inquisitive look from Sterling, whereas Quick Glance continued giggling so hard she’d fallen off her stool.

“A particular travelling merchant who’s in town at the moment should be able help you out with that. I’ll send you to him tomorr-”

“I BET YOU’RE GLAD THE SEXBOT DOESN’T HAVE A FLAMER TO LIGHT YOUR TAIL UP WITH!” the drunken unicorn blurted, making Sterling’s cheeks burn even more brightly.

“Don’t you have a post to watch!” he snapped.

I took all my self-control and both my hooves to stop myself laughing at the poor stallion.

* * *

“Howdy, Winding! Heading off today?” Sterling Sales called.

“This is correct, friend,” replied the softly-spoken stallion dressed head-to-hoof in wraps, cap and goggles who occupied himself tightening the straps on a pack brahmin. “Do you ask because you are feeling chatty, or is your friend in need of something?” he said, turning to indicate towards me with a hoof.

Sterling gave a winning grin. “Ever observant, Winding Path. As it would happen, my friend KnickKnack here is looking for something that a well-travelled, er... individual such as you may know how to find.”

“I’m looking for a place that has a great deal of advanced pre-war technology that hasn’t been looted or destroyed,” I piped in, realising only once I’d finished how ridiculous that sounded.

“Is that all? For a moment there, I thought you were going to ask for something difficult.” The heavily-dressed pony replied, calmly.

I leaned into whisper to Sterling “Is he being sarcastic? His tone hasn’t changed this entire conversation.”

“I have no idea, son. He always talks like that,” he replied.

“I speak not with mocking intent, friends,” the travelling merchant stated.

Okay, how the hell did he hear that? I thought I had good hearing, but that was ridiculous.

Winding continued. “Come, friend, I will lead you to that which you seek. But be warned, while I can direct you to your goal easily enough, the difficulty is in the jeopardies you will face. I am well-travelled, yes, but these places – and those that are alike – are unlooted and not well known for good reasons.”

I had to wonder if all travelling merchants spoke this mysteriously, or if Winding Path was just a particularly cryptic individual.

“I think Clive and I should be able to handle ourselves,” I said without a great deal of confidence. Clive, however, bobbed in agreement without any sign of hesitancy. That only led me to wonder about Clive’s A.I. even more.

“I dearly hope you can, friend.” the travelling merchant said before turning back to the brahmin. “Children! We leave soon, and we will have another pony accompanying us. Do make him feel welcome.”

From the opposite side of the brahmin came running a colt and a filly, both unicorns and dressed similarly to Winding Path, minus the hat and goggles.

“Ooh, hello there mister!” they said in unison, running right up to me and bouncing up and down in front of me. “

“She’s Zig and I’m Zag” announced the colt with the blue eyes.

“H-hi,” I said, trying for a smile and stepping back to regain some of my personal space.

“What’s your name, Mister Stablepony?” asked the orange-eyed filly eagerly.

“Uh-“

“His name’s KnickKnack, kids!” announced Sterling, wrapping a hoof around me. He then leaned in close to them and said softly “Take good care of him, he needs all the help he can get.”

As the chunky merchant rose back up with a chuckle, Zag looked up at me buoyantly. “Don’t worry, mister, we’ll get you through the wastes alright.”

Feeling embarrassed and inadequate, I decided it was time to say goodbye to Sterling and urge Winding Path to leave as soon as possible.

“So Mister KnickKnack, what kind of magic tricks can you do?” asked Zag, who was settled on top of the brahmin, his hooves resting atop Clive, who seemed content to sit still and do nothing for once.

“Yeah, like this!” squeaked Zig from beside me, who began a small sparkler show with her horn with accompanying hoof-waving and ‘woo oooo’ sounds.

Thinking for a moment, I quickly checked my Pipbuck inventory. Finding what I needed in the miscellaneous junk category – how this thing could categorise, weigh and value all the things I keep on me was amazing, but a mystery for another day. I levitated an empty Sparkle Cola bottle in front of me and cast a spell on it that began to twist and reshape the brittle glass, like a far more malleable material. After a few moments, floating in front of me was a little glass KnickKnack.

“Whooaaaa!” the colt and filly said in unison. “That’s so cool!”

I smiled confidently; proud of my trick, but it wasn’t over yet. I touched the glass me to my horn and cast another spell on it, then threw it to Zag. The colt caught it in his magic and his sister rushed over to crawl up the brahmin’s back to see what I’d done.

“It looks exactly the same, that trick didn’t do anything.” Zag said, with a frown.

“Throw it.” I told him. “As hard as you can, make sure it goes past me and I can’t see it.”

The colt did as he was told and threw the glass toy past me, out to the sandy expanse to the southwest between us and the now-distant Palom.

I lifted a hoof and cast another spell.

“Little KnickKnack,” I said, more for the effect than as a necessary part of the spell. The glass toy disappeared in a bright flash and reappeared in another, on my hoof.

“Whoa! No way, you weren’t even looking at it! How’d you do that?” Zag pleaded, before I threw the little glass me back to the pair.

Before going on a tangent, delineating the intricacies of the inherent magical tracking woven into the initial spell that allows a unicorn to bypass the need for a line of sight, I adjudicated that the colt probably wouldn’t understand a word of it. So instead, I decided to go with “It’s magic, I don’t gotta explain sh- stuff.”

Zag seemed to accept that as a reasonable and well-constructed answer and moved onto his next inquiry, “You got any more tricks, Mr KnickKnack?”

“I think Mr KnickKnack has done quite enough for now, children. Leave him be and play with your new toy,” uttered the soft voice of Winding Path from in front of the brahmin.

The twins conceded, but both gave me a look that said they’d be asking for more tricks later on. While they played, I took the time to sort over things in my inventory.

Let’s see:

Equipped on me was my Stable utility jumpsuit and leather barding, a low calibre rifle and 10mm pistol sheathed in the barding, a pair of technician goggles around my neck, and my saddlebag.

In my saddlebag, wonderfully arranged by magic, was an agglomeration of the things I brought with me, some things I’d picked up on my journey so far, and my reward for completing Sterling Sales’ job. Some of the foodstuff appeared to be preserved pre-war food. My Pipbuck informed me that they contained traces of radiation, but if Sterling put it in there I supposed it wasn’t dangerous amounts. He seemed to have also included some red and yellow pills and IV bags full of orange liquid my Pipbuck identified as Rad-X and RadAway.

Was I ready to survive the wastes? I couldn’t say, but I’d have help. I trotted ahead of the pack brahmin, next to Winding Path.

“You never said where exactly you’re taking me,” I said.

“You never asked, friend,” he countered airily. “We head to New Saddle, but you will depart from us before then.”

“Where am I going, then?” I asked with new uncertainty. I’d assumed that Winding Path and his children would lead me right up to the doors of wherever he promised to lead me. The more I considered the notion, though, the more ridiculous it seemed.

“We will part ways tomorrow; you will be headed to Uncanny Valley.”
At the mention of my destination, I noticed an icon flash on my Pipbuck. There was Uncanny Valley marked to the north, along with icons for New Saddle and Palom to the northeast and southwest. How did my Pipbuck know the locations of places before I did? Stable-Tec made some absurd contraptions. Hang on, what kind of name is Uncanny Valley!?

“Uncanny Valley!?” I asked, baffled as we continued to trot.

“A place my familiarity with is greater than most, but that is not saying much. Pre-war military bunkers reside there, but superstition has played part in keeping ponies away. A chilling fog perpetually blankets the valley and popular opinion places the the fault on spirits. Not all believe these superstitions, but the few who have ventured to Uncanny Valley in my years have not returned. Foolishness played a larger part in their disappearance than spirits; you can be assured,” the wrapped stallion said, calmly as ever.

“How are you more familiar with the valley than most if nopony has ever returned?”

“Simple, young friend, I have been around more than most. I have observed the valley from afar on my travels, heard all of the tales from all around this part of Equestria and beyond, and travelled closer than any who did not aspire to venture all the way.

“The fog is unnatural, yes, but not, as many believe, supernatural. Even mutant animals distance themselves from spirits and the like, but Uncanny Valley is still occupied by dangerous creatures. I suspect the fog is the doing of technology from the war.”

Winding Path’s knowledge was helpful, but left me with a lingering question. “Why are you leading me to a place that you’re not certain about? Why not somewhere else?” I said, turning in front of him - making him stop abruptly.

The mysterious travelling merchant stepped around me, forcing me to spin on my hooves to get back alongside him. “You are a clever pony, KnickKnack, but you are not a hardened mercenary who can trot anywhere he likes, blast everything in his way and leave victorious. Both of these things could be observed from your actions in Palom.

“What I offer you is a chance. If I were to send you to anywhere else possessing what you seek, your death would almost be a certainty. Uncanny Valley is a place I know of that a clever pony like you has a chance to venture. Other options I could give are further, more dangerous and heavy firepower would be what you would need to rely on for success.

“If that were your wish, years could be spent in preparation, but your demise may still be inevitable. Greater chances are found in the unknown valley.”

The well-travelled pony had me pinned – the unknown is better than waiting longer for near-certain death, right?

Right. Uncanny Valley it was.

I nodded with a serious expression. “I see your point, Winding; I’ll trust your judgement.”

We continued northeast until nightfall, where we set up for the night in the hull of a ruined home, stray among the relatively empty, if somewhat more rugged and undulating, landscape we had travelled across from Palom. I crunched on a box of Sugar Bombs, my Pipbuck’s radiation meter softly clicking away as I consumed the two century old foodstuff. Zig and Zag also joined me in eating, but never did I see Winding Path remove the wraps from his muzzle, let alone attempt to eat anything. Perhaps he ate through the day and I simply missed it.

“Ooh, please show us another trick, Mr KnickKnack!” begged the sweet little Zig, staring at me with wide, imploring eyes.

“Oh alright, but just so you know, those eyes are totally unfair,” I said, getting up from where I was sitting and levitating another Sparkle Cola bottle from my bag. Hey, they’re common and disposable! Perfect for if a spell goes wrong, or if you need to smash something to do a trick.

Smash

I held the shattered remains of the bottle in my turquoise glow. “Here’s one I learned to do trying to find a quicker way around fixing things in the Stable.”

I increased my concentration on the shards, which shaped back into the form of the bottle they once were. Hundreds of cracks spread across the surface, but my spell fused the shards together into a whole and perfect bottle again.

Zig and Zag were dumbstruck. “Y-you can fix stuff perfect with just your magic?” the filly asked, gawking.

I chuckled pensively. “I can! Or so I thought when I first tried the spell. The effects are only temporary, so that bottle will fall to pieces again over time - doubly so if you smash it again while it’s still in one piece. Sadly, I haven’t found an actual use for this spell other than temporarily fixing something you broke beyond all repair, then passing the blame by leaving it for somepony else to pick up, then have it fall apart in their hooves.”

I probably shouldn’t have shared that last piece of information, because it resulted in a torrent of begging, feigned sobbing, bartering and finally attempts at wrestling me to the floor to teach them the spell that could get them out of trouble forever and ever for all time. Only the interference of Winding Path saved me from their torrent of skillful persuasion tactics.

Travel continued early the following morning and not long past midday, my cloth-bound guide stopped our small group. Clive hovered quietly at my side as Winding Path turned to us.

“This is where we part, friend. Remember, stay sharp and you will not fall to the perils of the valley. Oh and one more thing,” the merchant hoofed through one of the bags on the brahmin’s back before revealing a small lavender container with a starburst emblem and ‘M.A.S.’ stencilled on the lid. “One final assistance I can offer before we go our own ways. This case contains several talismans, one of which dampens magical effects and will clear a small area of the fog, permitting you a degree of vision.”

He cracked open the case and pointed towards the azure gemstone with ‘Arcane Disruption Talisman’ labelled above it. “Of course, I am a merchant – you may have the talisman for a price.”

My eyes gleamed over the contents of the box held in front of me. Talismans were a piece of arcane technology that varied in usefulness on their own, but were largely made to be paired with machines that could be made to go beyond the limitations of mundane technology. Winding Path had steered me in the direction of my ambitions and the presentation of the other talismans was no accident – he was a clever merchant who picked his timing perfectly, giving me almost no choice in this decision.

“I’ll take the whole case,” I announced with a buoyant tone.

What followed was some bartering experience and the exchange of goods. We then parted, quite content; I gained some wondrous arcano-tech and Winding Path gained a heavier purse.

I waved the trio and their brahmin away as I trotted giddily towards the northwest.

Of course, it was not even ten minutes after departing that red bars began to build up on my E.F.S.

* * *

I let out a relieved laugh and dropped onto my side.

Now the adrenaline was gone, however, I really began to feel the pain of the attack from the mutated boars.

Blood dampened my barding where I was speared by a pair of tusks. I downed a healing potion to close the wounds and placed healing bandages on the punctures in my belly.

I still had over a day’s travel before Uncanny Valley, though, and couldn’t afford to be attacked all the way; it was time to get sneaky.

‘Sneaky’ essentially consisted of sending Clive to distract groups of anything that showed up as red on my E.F.S. since most of the wildlife we encountered had no way of harming a robot that could float above them. The exception were bloatsprites, which posed little threat to a sprite with a reinforced metal hull and a recharging magical beam gun.

Come nightfall, Clive and I had made good progress, but I was not desperate or foolish enough to continue on in the dark where light from my horn or Pipbuck would make me a walking target for predators of the night. I chose a plateau I could safely sleep on while my robotic companion could keep vigilant watch.

I curled up in my bedroll and did my best to ignore the distant screeches of predatory animals, but my mind was left to dwell on what had passed and what was to come. Here I was, not a week out of the Stable and surviving the conflicts I’d been in through luck and help, yet somehow having the delusion of being able to take on the valley of disappearing ponies.

But I survived – six whole days! I was doing far better than anypony thought I’d be capable of and I had a goal to work towards.

Finding advanced pre-war tech, that was my goal. That, then finding Sturdy.

What if it meant more killing, though? The question had been swimming around in my mind since I woke from my raider nightmare. I was a killer now; I’d shot that madmare through the head. I did what I needed to in the moment to live, but how long would it be before I justified killing ponies just on suspicion of a threat, or because they were on my way? What if I degenerated into one of those raiders, killing for fun?

‘No. That’s not me,’ I told myself. It was enough to allow me the peace of mind to slip off to sleep.

Clive greeted me as I woke with jovial beeps while I packed up my bedroll and stuffed a two century old snack cake into my muzzle. I dwelled on neither the consequences of the preservatives inside the sweet treat nor the small piles of ash I trotted past as I once again began my journey to Uncanny Valley.

The valley could be seen as soon as the terrain began to unanimously curve downwards. It would not have taken a bright Pipbuck map indicator to tell me where I had to go at that point. A wide portion of the land was sheerly cut off by a white, pervading form a half mile in diameter.

The bunkers were down there somewhere.

I approached cautiously, hanging the arcane disruption talisman on some twine around my neck before I stepped into the fog itself. The gem began to glow and I pressed on, penetrating the fog as I reached more even ground. I felt a biting chill momentarily before the gem’s magic pressed back the mist. It kept a reasonably clear bubble about five feet around me in all directions, giving me room to judge my steps and keeping a seemingly sluggish Clive within my sight. It seemed the field was enough to weaken the Spritebot, but not enough to shut it off.

Looking up, I couldn’t see the sky, meaning the fog reached far above my head.

I levitated my pistol from its holster, noticing it seemed heavier than usual under the effects of the talisman. Winding Path had said animals still occupied Uncanny Valley and although it was fairly obvious he couldn’t have seen into the fog itself to spot wildlife there, it was better to play things safely.

The damp, reeking earth had a prominent presence of life. Small marsh plants and moss appeared in patches while muddy water bubbled nearby. Occasional chittering sounds rang through the air from indiscernible locations. I felt something itch at my coat, as well.

The first sign of a threat came from the sound of a great splash, followed by the squeals of mutant boars. The sound of their cloven hooves pounded closer and closer. While still out of sight, they appeared on my E.F.S. and Clive began firing weakened magical beams into the vapor. I prepared to enter S.A.T.S. the moment one stuck its ugly head into view.

I was greeted only by silhouettes passing by the edge of my bubble, however. The boars were not attacking, and they were certainly too small to have caused a splash like that. There was something large and terrifying out there and I didn’t want to be around when it got to where I was.

The itching in my coat slowly spread and gained more of a bite as I cantered my way away from the direction the splash had come from. I slowed down when I realised that the disruption talisman’s magic wasn’t keeping up too well with me, my vision becoming more opaque and the biting chill returning.

Continuing on with the disruption field’s effects restored, it was not long before I came across a mangled chainlink fence with a faded yellow sign with ‘Restricted Area’ written across it. This had to be the military compound where the bunkers lay.

I stepped through the fallen length of fence and followed it to a corner. I then veered off away from the fence and headed to what I assumed was the centre of the compound. My coat burned furiously at this point, and the pain had spread to my legs. I raised a foreleg to check the cause. My heart shrank and my mouth gaped in horror. My fetlock was damp with blood, tiny lines spreading along my coat and staining it red.

Only then did I feel what was happening to me.

My flesh was being bored into by something too small for my eyes to see. Searing pain shot through my back and sides. What the fuck? I rolled onto my back and writhed in agony. I had to move, to find somewhere safe; it must have been in the air. I wasn’t thinking, I should have ran from the valley and stayed away, but I shook myself up with a stumbling push and galloped about the compound in search of the bunkers. My only thoughts were of the spreading anguish I felt and the shelter I needed so badly.

The lines continued to spider out over my legs and back, ever slowly dying my tan coat a deep red and forcing me to stumble and shake in pain and distress. Goddesses, it felt like it was getting deeper, permeating my being.

The fog swam in as I ran around, leaving Clive and my clear bubble trailing behind. The spreading pain worsened by the second. I could sense lines crawling towards my neck and the pain in my rump pierced ever deeper. Shit, shit, shit. I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of me at this point. Not enough time to stop in front of the steel door emerging from the alabaster mist.

My body jerked back violently as my muzzle crunched against steel and I crashed onto my back. Scrambling to my hooves, the air cleared around me, I could see the concrete hulk before my eyes. My hopes for salvation overpowered the pain in my hide and muzzle. I wrenched on the spoked wheel on the steel door, bloodying its surface but releasing the locks holding it closed.

Salvation! I pulled it open and dove inside, letting Clive follow through before hastily closing and locking it from the other side, leaving the inside smeared with crimson.

I wrenched off my saddlebag and desperately drank down the healing potions inside, the relative safety giving me the clarity to finally think of them. The pain waned, but still spread around for a few more minutes. Whatever was causing it hadn’t left right away.

Zipping open my barding, my coat was matted with blood. It was a gruesome mess of dark red that painted the floor as I curled up and shivered in horror, feeling profoundly violated. Fuck, fuck that was nearly the end of me. There wasn’t a lot of blood in any one given place, but most of my coat was damp with it. Shit. Nothing vital had been damaged, but had I stayed out there, I would have been flayed alive. Luna’s grace…

I felt thoroughly unclean and discomforted as I rose back to my hooves and slipped my grisly barding back on. I removed the talisman from my neck and its glow faded. There appeared to be no fog in here, which I was beginning to suspect was probably not coincidental to the withdrawal of the pain.

Before me was a metal tunnel that lead down fifteen or so feet, a set of stairs following the down and glowing yellow lights lining the walls. I followed them to a door identical to the one at the entrance. Prying it open, I stepped into a wider room with another door standing another twenty feet from me.

There were several large, corrugated steel crates in the room that had blocked some fairly important details as I stepped in.

The turrets.

These were no low-calibre, ceiling-mounted turrets in the offices of a factory. Instead, these appeared to be magically-powered, military-grade fuck-your-shit-up kind of turrets.

However, there were two turrets and three red bars on my EFS.

“Stop. Right. There, outsider! Sit still while I turn your sorry hide into a neat little smoking pile of ash I can suck out through the vents,”

“S-stop! No!” I called out to the voice behind the speakers, backpedalling to relative safety behind the corrugated boxes and towards the door. A pair of bright red beams arced through the space I’d previously occupied – I dreaded to think of them passing straight through me.

I had to grab onto Clive to stop it rushing forward to attack. The spritebot jittered about feverishly and emitted low, erratic beeps.

There was a shrill screech of metal behind me and I trotted my rump straight into the door. Oh fun – they had me trapped.

“Don’t make me come out there and get you, outsider!” called the granular stallion’s voice, followed by another discharge from the turrets, striking the steel boxes.

I wasn’t sure those crates would protect me forever, and even if they did, my only other option was to work my way out of the room and run back into that fog. I’d leave bloodied and empty-hooved, if at all. I took my chances.

“Do it,” I called.

“What?!” the voice responded, incredulously, over the speakers.

I taunted again. “Come out here and get me!”

“I’ll do it!” The pony behind the speakers sounded anxious.

“Why don’t you, then? Scared of a Stable Pony?” I teased.

Clive struggled in my hooves.

The stallion was enraged. “That’s it! You’re gonna wish you stood still and got dusted, you little shit!”

I heard the faint clanking of metal on the opposite side of the door before a loud hiss and more metallic screeching. The door swung opened and out thundered a hulking mass of equine-shaped steel.

I let go of Clive.

There was a loud clang where Clive impacted the Ranger’s helmet. This knocked him off balance momentarily and sent clive flying into the steel crates. I took the opportunity to swing out my rifle and sweep the Ranger’s hooves from under him.

“Little fucker,” he yelled as he landed on his belly. I jumped onto his back and took a coil of rope out of my saddlebag.

The Stallion groaned as he stood up. I dropped, slipping my legs around his body, navigating the rope around his head, neck and legs. He shook, “GET,” kicked, “OFF,” and bucked, “ME,” until he tripped over.

Fantastic, except that I cushioned his fall.

He got up first and pinned me down with his weight. I squirmed in pain. “Got you now! Now be a good intruder and di-”

“Stop!” called a authoritative female voice from the hallway the Ranger atop me had run through. Her icon on my E.F.S. was green. “That’s an order.”

The Ranger stallion grumbled, but conceded, getting off me. He proceeded to shake the rope off himself. His E.F.S. marker turned green.

“That was foolish, Initiate,” said the mare, who was also equipped with power armour. “You should first have assessed that this pony was a threat-”

“He came in here all covered in blood, like a rai-”

“Ah, ah! Are you forgetting where we are?” she said, condescendingly. “It’s a miracle he’s still standing after going through that that fog with what little protection he has. Which brings me to my second point - you should have reported this instead of getting all trigger-happy. He may be useful in assisting with the fog problem.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t thinking,” the stallion said, dropping his head slightly.

Meanwhile, I crawled my way over to Clive, who was out cold. Something must have been damaged or knocked loose.

The mare’s tone softened. “That’s okay, Cinnamon Roll, just make sure you learn from this, so you don’t murder potential help in the future. Also, I know initiates aren’t allowed to carry weapons around the base, but next time you abandon a pair of laser turrets to attack somepony yourself, I’d suggest that doing so unarmed is a pretty dum-”

“What the HELL IS GOING ON HERE, WHY ARE YOU STANDING AROUND AN INTRUDER AND NOT BEATING HIM TO A BLOODY PULP?!” called a shrill voice from the doorway. I shielded my ears, while the others looked physically pained by the loud voice.

“Sir, I believe this intruder may be of use to us, sir.” said the mare.

“Is that so? Well what’re you doing standing around? BRING THIS INTRUDER TO ELDER OBSIDIAN!”

“Yes, sir!” said the mare. She then trotted over to speak to me in a soothing tone. “Come with me, hon. You’ll be safe.”

I looked up at her and back down to Clive, running my mouth silently.

“I promise, you’ll be okay. So will your friend,” she promised.

I stood up slowly and lifted Clive with my magic.

“What’s your name, hon?” she asked.

I was still shaky, but hesitantly answered. “It’s… KnickKnack.”

“Nice to meet you, KnickKnack. I’m Sapphire. I think we can help each-other, but I need you to come with me to see our Elder. Can you do that for me?”

I nodded my head, letting Sapphire lead me from the front and the screechy Ranger from the back. I could hear him yell back down behind me. “Initiate. GET YOUR ASS BACK TO YOUR POST.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the Initiate, with a slightly shaking tone.

I got the idea that I didn’t need to be told not to try anything.

The pair quickly led me through the tight hallway in relative silence, past the Initiate’s station, into a more open area, down a flight of stairs, then another facing the left. I eventually lost track of directions as we headed further into the base. I decided to stop concentrating on that and began to notice my actual surroundings.

It was somewhat similar to a Stable, but with high ceilings it was more like Stable 85 than 24. Everything was darker and the lighting was all those comparatively dim, yellow lights. I noticed that we were walking on steel grating, under which there appeared to be walkways that followed the level we were on. One of the most distinct things I noticed, though, was that the Rangers didn’t seem to have the red trim that the ones in Stable 24 had. It was very curious.

We passed ponies in power armour and in other kinds of barding that I couldn’t identify, but they paid us no mind.

Two levels down, I was lead into a huge, round room. It was filled with screens and banners. In the middle sat a stallion on an elevated platform, with a round desk - he had a white mane, a dark blue coat and old eyes. He looked up from his work as we entered, lining up with Sapphire on my left and the commander screechy on my right.

Sapphire called out. “Elder, we found this outsider in the entrance of the bunker. His name is KnickKnack and he made his way through the fog, barely. I think he could help.”

The elder stood from his desk, regarded me for a moment and then replied with a deep, authoritative voice. I noticed he wore an ornate blue robe. “This is unprecedented, but certainly worth looking into. That said, I must ask, why are you here, KnickKnack?”

“A travelling merchant told me that there may be advanced pre-war technology in Uncanny Valley,” I replied. “That’s what I was looking for.”

The elder laughed. “Haha! A stallion after my own heart. Well, now that you’re here, we can’t let you leave without being certain we can trust that you won’t alert the wrong ponies about our presence here. Until then, I think we can work something out to benefit us mutually.”

This was taking a relatively obvious direction. “I’m going to guess you want me to help you do something about that fog? It would seem you’re as trapped here as I am.”

“Right you are,” the Elder replied. “A smart one; I like that. With this fog, we can’t safely run missions, trade or relocate. We’re running on borrowed time. I want you to provide our Scribes with any information you can about your experience getting through the fog and, if you can, help them find a way to get rid of it. As a reward – other than your freedom – I’m sure we can spare some technology for you, assuming we can be certain it won’t be detrimental to us.”

“Those sound like pretty fair conditions to me,” I said, knowing full well I didn’t want to be out there to experience that fog again, and that it would be best to cooperate while deep in a bunker full of Steel Rangers. Not to mention that I could gain something from it. “I think we have a deal.”

The elder smiled. “You will be supervised, of course. I think Crusader Stone will fit the role quite nicely. In any case, welcome to the Steel Rangers, Probationary Initiate KnickKnack.”

Stone… so that’s his name. I guess he fits it, being pretty tough on his subordinates and all. I definitely did not want him over my shoulder all of the time, though. I looked to my right in horror.

“What ARE you looking at ME like that for, INITIATE?!” my supervisor screeched.

“I-”

“You SHOULD be looking at your SUPERVISOR!”

“Aren’t you my supervisor, Crusader Stone?” I asked, aghast.

“CRUSADER STONE?!” He bellowed. “I AM STAR PALADIN GINGER SNAPS. YOU WILL REFER TO ME BY MY TITLE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

“I think he understands, now, Star Paladin,” said the elder. “Though I can’t say for certain if he can still hear out of his right ear. I take blame for that little incident, though. I should have specified that your supervisor will be the Ranger to your left.”

I turned with relief to Sapphire, who took off her helmet, to reveal her glamorous appearance. “Welcome to our cause, KnickKnack. Crusader Sapphire Stone, at your service.”

She gave a small smile and held out an armored hoof. Relief washed over me as I smiled back and matched my hoof to hers.

She pulled me in close and spoke into my ear. “Don’t let the looks fool you - you’re my responsibility now, so don’t make me regret saving you.”

Still relieved to not have Ginger Snaps as a supervisor.

Footnote: Level up

New Perk: Horse Sense -- You are a swift learner. You gain an additional +10% whenever experience points are earned.

Author's Note

Apologies for the lateness on this one. It should have been done forever and a day ago, but instead it's been sitting around, gathering dust, an inch from completion.

I did have fun writing it, but things have been busy and I wasn't sure about a few small details. They're all worked out now, though!

Thanks to Kkat for creating this elaborate world from two of my favourite things, and to the friends who've helped me - even when it was just me talking at them until I came up with ideas. Ideas that are usually for chapters far ahead, but ideas nonetheless.

Chapter 3 is planned out, but I haven't begun the writing side of it, which is fairly important. I'm not sure when it'll be released, though hopefully I'll be able to dig right into it after exams next month.
~Immolated Poet

Introduction

The Equestrian Wasteland, a harsh and unforgiving expanse. This irradiated and tainted hellhole is all too happy to knock you down and take all that’s precious to you, then kick you a few times for good measure.

Of course, there’s little one can do about it when it’s your home. Just trying to get by from one day to the next can become too difficult a task, leaving many to simply wither away. Others don’t go so quietly, living through struggles and anguish until they’re broken and hollow. You could be holed up in a Stable, nice, safe and cozy, also cramped and stagnant. My Stable – Stable 85 – was just that, but was destroyed around the same time the Enclave fell. We were lucky enough to be given warning and were able to find a new home, but we all got a taste of the wasteland in the move – if from a distance. The flavor was foul; it made most retch and scared them away from a second taste. As foul as it was, though, I was drawn to the aftertaste – potential.

After a routine and dull life others may have been desperate to return to the status quo. Not my thing. I played along as long as I could in our new home – Stable 24 – but I was driven to step into the breach by the desire to pursue the ambitions planted in my head following that bittersweet taste of Equestria, and as a result, I threw myself into the meat grinder of the wasteland.