Prologue - Going Once

"At least I'm worth something."

"Look, boys, I have nothing against your gang. But you're in the Falls, not Fillydelphia. This is a weapons auction house, not a slaver den. We don't deal with slaves."

"C'mon, Going Gone, help us out here. This mare owes Shiney caps. Like fifty grand of them."

"Your problem, not mine. Besides, she's tiny! I'd have to pay ponies to even look at her."

"She's a unicorn. That's gotta be worth something!"

"Hah! To Red Eyes, maybe. But around here, we need good healthy ponies. This little runt looks like she came out of her momma the wrong way. She....wait a sec, she looks just like....yes. Yes, I think she can be worth something after all. Get me some Stabletec rags."

"....news from all the way out in the Falls, I don't know what to say about this one, folks. Looks like the kingpins in that hive of arms dealers have gotten their hooves on the sale of the century. My sources up in Flank-Pot tell me the Stable Dweller herself is up for grabs at the Going Gone Auction House. Gotta be honest, I can't help but scratch my mane at this, as I've got reliable sources telling me our heroine is in Manehattan fighting the good fight. So either she got really lost on her way to pick up some fresh new beats for good'ol Pon3 or our friend Going Gone has found himself the Stable Dweller's long lost twin. Either way, my heart goes out to that poor mare on the block. I ask ya, folks, if we'd sell our own, where do we stop? But thankfully, the Falls isn't without its own hero. Crystal Emperor, if you can hear this, how about paying our poor evil twin a visit? Now for some music. Just for you from DJ-Pon3, here's a new groove, a piece by the good ol' Fluttershy and the Pony Tones...."

I had one thing; My identity. Fix, the toaster repair pony extraordinaire, fixing your wasteland one dud at a time. And they've taken even that away. But at least I know I'm worth something, which is more than can be said of most things in the wasteland. If you feed me to any Pipbuck's inventory sorter, that magical value calculator would probably flash 50 grand in bottle caps. Cause that's exactly what I'm worth, at least to my captors and this mysterious pony, Shiny. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I learned my father's name from an I.O.U. I mean, my mother was a drug fiend, I think (She was very creative in naming me as you can see). Never even knew my father until Shiny's bucks came knocking. By this point, I'm not even surprised anymore. Just a teeny bit miffed, that's all.

And now here I am sitting in a makeshift pen made up of broken Sparkle Cola vending machines. The funny itch in my cutie mark was telling me to fix them and it took all the self-restraint I had not to jump the guard outside and loot him for any repair tools. Or at least tear his radio apart for spare parts. What else can you do when you've got a flaming toaster and a wrench and screwdriver for a cutie mark?

I guess you can toast wrenches and screwdrivers for a living, sure, but....that's besides the point.

The point is I'm trapped. And to be honest, the pen and the guard are kind of wasted. The real thing trapping me here is this bomb-collar around my neck, rigged to blow at the touch of a button or should I decide to wander out for one last stroll. This and the oversized StableTec jumpsuit they pushed me into are all I have left to my name...assuming I can still call it my name. Apparently, on pain of death (or worse), I am to answer only to 'Littlepip' or 'Stable Dweller'. Oh well, anything can only be an improvement at this point.

At least the jumpsuit smells like only one other pony has died in it, maybe two.

"Hey, Stable Dweller, you're up." The guard, an earth pony buck, likely one of the Dams mercs judging by his orange safety vest and hard hat, gestured for me to come out of my pen.

I gave him the dirtiest look I could manage. Which wasn't much, considering they had even bathed me (In irradiated water. Yay). Apparently a stable dweller should look 'clean and civilized'.

Give me a pony wrench and I'll show you civilized.

As I was herded out from my pen backstage and out into the stage proper I heard a familiarly slimy voice announce, "....I know you're all looking forwards to Bel-D, the infamous StableTec relic fished right out of the Nightmare Crater, which I remind you is starting at a bargain price of 80 grand in caps." As the stage came into view I got a look at Going Gone, the auctioneer and boss of this hole, a real pompous piece of work. From the way he dressed with the suit and bow tie, I suspect he thought himself the second coming of Prince Blueblood Ist himself. Behind him, in the place of honour in tonight's auction, was what looked like a white missile, scratched but whole, which is surprising for something out of the Nightmare Crater.

My cutie mark was itching like crazy. The little repair pony in me was practically salivating at the sight, telling me to jump it like there's no tomorrow.

There probably isn't a tomorrow, which made said little pony's argument quite convincing.

There were large black letters under the main maintenance panel on the pod. I could just make it out to be 'Barrel-Pod 06', though the 'arr', 'po' and '06' had long since faded or scratched off.

Ah, 'Bel-D', I get it. Typical wasteland naming sense at its best.

"But now I've got an appetizer to get you all going." Going Gone's sleezy voice brought me back to the Equestrian wasteland. "Tonight, we have none other than the Stable Dweller herself, freshly captured only yesterday in Gutterville and speedily couriered up here for the only auction that promises you the best the wasteland has to offer. You've all heard of her and her exploits, from single-hoofedly cleaning out the Ponyville raiders to butchering the entire slaver town of Old Appleloosa. And now she's here to offer you the deal of a life time! New and unused, starting at 50 grand, increments of one thousand!" He must have more than a few screws loose, more than even all the screwdrivers in the world can fix.

The audience stuffed into the old theatre suddenly began clamouring, throwing hooves up. "I see 52 grand. 53. 54 grand here. 55." Going Gone called the offers.

Huh, Stable Dweller's surprisingly popular. Looks like a lot of slavers, mercenaries, bounty hunters, even....pleasure-peddlers(?!) in the audience want her. Should I feel jealous?

"Do I see 120 grand over there?" Going Gone called out, waving at the back of the room. What? The price had hiked up that far? Huh, for some twisted reason I couldn't help but feel proud of myself. Go me.

"How about your lives?" A low, gruff voice boomed across the entire theatre. An imposing-looking unicorn stallion behind a dark silver crowned mask reared up. His scorched heavy barding gleamed in the glow of at least three beam guns floating out in his telekinetic grasp, along with a flaming blade, two machine pistols and a combat shotgun. The heavy red cloak he wore over his armour bulged with what was probably the other half of his armoury, possibly a battle saddle too.

Overcompensating for something, bucky?

Everypony in the room sat rock-still, staring blankly at the stallion. Or his little constellation of weapons. It was difficult not to. It was bordering on downright hilarious, and he was the punchline.

The stallion finally broke his own silence. "Huh, wrong item." He muttered, eyeing me. "I don't want the stuffed toy." He sat back down, his overkill-combo of weapons quickly disappearing underneath his cloak. "Wake me up when the pod goes up for sale." He waved a hoof for everypony to carry on.

A moment of silence passed. It was quickly broken by Going Gone. "That's the Crystal Emperor! Guards! Get that stallion! Alive if you can, or stuffed if you can't!" He bellowed, pointing a hoof at the mysterious stallion. "Fillies and Gentlecolts, it would appear we have an even better sale to offer you tonight! The Crystal Emperor himself, starting at 100 grand!" He announced.

More than me? How is that over-compensating costumed suicidal-maniac worth more than me?

Why do I even care?

"Get in line!" The stallion laughed, standing back up, weapons akimbo. And then the shooting (finally) began.

I'd love to say they were fighting over me. But no. I spared the white StableTec pod a slightly jealous look. "80 grand? Well, I'm 120. How do you like them apples?" I smirked, taking refuge in small victories.

Gotta start somewhere.

Perk: Toaster Repair Pony - At the end of the day, everything's a toaster. And you're just the pony to fix them. You gain a permanent +5 bonus to Science and Repair.

Author's Note

I hope you all enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The Fallout series is the product and property of Bethesda and Zenimax Studios.

MLP belongs to the awesomeriffic Faust.

The amazing Fallout Equestria saga was written by KKat.

Me? I'm just playing in three different playgrounds at the same time and having the time of my life.