Chapter One: Well Thought Plans
“We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.”

In the Wasteland, you take whatever you can. And you keep it. You use it until it can’t be used no more, and then when it’s truly out of order, only then do you switch to something newer. You don’t just throw away a good shotgun that has a couple of years left in it, you’d have to be incredibly stupid to do something like that.

Which is why I think I can call myself “incredibly stupid”.

The glaring rays of sunlight seeped through the various cracks and holes of my home slash store. I was slumped against the counter as I blew a bit of my mane out of my face, the sound of metal bashing against metal ringing throughout the building as Scorcher continued to work on whatever new weapon he managed to find a schematic for. I worked in the general store, selling weapons, food, anything that can make a cap or two really as well as doing repairs. But I never was up for that. Scorcher usually took care of that. I took care of bartering if he hasn’t already beat me to it.

Terra Scorcher was the boss of the shop, he wasn’t exactly a playful kinda guy, but he actually allowed me to goof-off assuming there weren’t any customers around, not that there is any way to goof-off besides making stupid little sculptures out of scrap metal. He also refers to me as “Showers” instead of “April” like everypony else does. Or, sometimes he goes through the hassle of calling me by my full name, “April Showers” despite my protests.

I just don’t get that stallion.

Anyways, he usually took care of repairs. I took care of bartering, although Scorcher was just as capable of doing it, I apparently had a bit more “charm” to me. I mean, if you’re going to barter you’re going to want to do it with a mare as opposed to such an intimidating figure like Scorcher. I also had the job of making sure the shop was clean. Or as clean as things got in here anyways.

*Ahem* going a slight bit off topic here. So, onto the story.

Business as usual wasn’t too busy. Only a measly one or two customers a day, one of which came in just to hit on me. But then again, I wouldn’t expect business to be booming.

Things here in Tortrotto were definitely a lot better than in the other cities. In fact any city in Caneighda in general is pretty harmless compared to Manehattan or Vanhoover. Fewer Hellhounds are here, and there is a smaller amount of raiders. In Manehattan however, I’ve heard that things are a lot better now with a significant drop in raiders and no more hostile Alicorns. Thank the Stable Dweller for that.

Meanwhile over in other states like Detrot or Las Pegasus, things are more or less the same save for like, three or four raiders whom decided to stop their bullshit, try and make peace with the nearest town and only ended up getting shot and enforcing the fact that they still didn’t have a good reason to stop. I mean, no more hostile alicorns is good and all, but we still have hellhounds, and just about every other creature that hates pony guts.

There’s also the huge amount of robots whom are still roaming around. I’m surprised that they’re still in one piece, I would’ve expected them to have crumbled into dust from all that rust and deterioration, much less go haywire and even takeover some buildings here and there.

So, long story short, things are almost the same save for a slight drop in: “Things-that-want-to-shred-a-relatively-normal-pony-into-indistinguishable-pieces”

We made it guys. Wheeeeeee.

So, naturally I never left the town. Ever. I had everything I needed here anyways, food, shelter, a job (granted the pay is horrible), a kinda decent clinic, and kinda friendly citizens (or about as friendly as an irradiated, dirty hungry pony could get anyways). Actually, I don’t live in a town…

A couple of survivors had apparently decided that the Neighagara public school building was a good place to start a small town, and it was… kind of. There aren’t many threats, other than giant ants, molerats, brahmin, and very rarely, an asshole who decides to kill innocent ponies for loot. Compared to Equestria, we had it easy. However, we really didn't have too many traders come around our area, so as a result, we had to hunt for our own food. Ant meat, Brahmin steak and whatnot.

Anyways, boring town, pretty safe, everything I need, yeah.

But what I needed was different from what I wanted. So, what do I want?

It’s kinda boring in the town. And I dream of being able to go out to venture the Wasteland one day. Sure, I’d probably get killed, but I’m willing to try. Things were way too peaceful, I wanted a bit of excitement, some thrill, and maybe finally meet some friends. Friends as in ponies I actually meet, not was born with. I mean, yea ponies come and go, but we only get just over thirty visitors per year, and a meager two or three bother staying. However, it’s these two or three ponies which have helped slow down the inevitable inbreeding.

Which is no surprise that I chose to leave the town. Well, for being boring, not the inbreeding, but yeah, that too.

Yes, I chose to throw away my safe life to pursue a fantasy about turning into a princess with a charming young knight saving my plot from being killed. A fantasy which was most likely to have not come true. Gimme a break, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

Looking up from the top of the filth coated desk, I turned my attention to Scorcher.

“Hey Scorch.” I called.

“Yea?”

“You ever feel… y’know… bored sometimes? Like, you wish life kinda did something to make things a little more-”

“No.”

“Don’t you think things are a bit too-”

“No.” He said, continuing to hammer onto the sheet of metal, not even bothering to turn around to look at me.

I started to question why I still bothered to try and socially interacting with him. Apparently “Throwing-away-a-considerably-good-life-and-risking-it-on-a-dumb-adventure-that-is-more-likely-to-get-you-killed-than-actually-guarantee-a-better-life” wasn’t very high on his list.

“Well I do.” I said, giving out a little *humph* at the end.

“And what do you plan on doing about it?” He said nonchalantly, still progressing through his work.

“Um, leaving?”

He stopped and turned around to look at me.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at me as he did.

“Um….”

“Exactly where are you going to go from here? How are you going to survive?”

“I can kinda just hop from city to city, Haymilton and Maresisauga, and then go to Detrot...”

“But have you ever thought about the things that stand in between you and any of those places? Hellhounds, Raiders, and probably a lot more. Kid, you’re alright with a ten millimeter, and Tortrotto isn’t as bad as Las Pegasus or Virgineigha, but it’s not completely harmless and you’re gonna need more than just a ten millimeter if you wanna put down anything larger than an ant.”

“But it’s so booooooooooring in here.”

“So? Which would you choose? A peaceful safe life? Or a stupidly dangerous one which is gonna get you killed?”

******

“Well. He does make a valid point.” Belette said, as she continued polishing her weapon, which she nicknamed “Mirage V”, the dirty washcloth was encased in a pink aura of magic while it ran up and down the unique rifle, going in between every nook and cranny, though it didn’t do much to help clear the patina and dents, or battlescars as she liked to call them. She did it at least once every day, and fired it only once or twice a week.

The weapon itself, although in poor condition, was intimidating. It was essentially a hunting rifle, but instead of a long barrel like any other rifle, it had a custom, rotating minigun-esque barrel, but hers was smaller, with only four barrels as opposed to the minigun’s six, and the magazine was an AK magazine that also doubled as the trigger guard. It was actually the fifth revision of the gun; the other four attempts were… well, there is a reason why she’s using the fifth version. Although nowhere near the minigun in terms of rate of fire, it was faster than any assault rifle or SMG one could find in the wasteland. To any other regular pony, this might sound like a frightening weapon.

It’s not.

It did have a great rate of fire, but it had absolutely shitty reload times and magazine capacity. Around twenty five or twenty six bullets per cartridge. In other words, it only lasts about one or two seconds before needing to be reloaded. That and the unique cartridge made it harder and slower to reload, unlike a regular magazine where it only needed one end to be inserted, this required both ends, otherwise it’d fall out, that and, since it has parts from three guns, she could never really get it into tip-top shape with only hunting rifles or just miniguns, she needed all three. And of course, there’s the custom hoof-made rotating minigun barrel which is one of a kind and has no readily available spare parts unless you make them yourself. Belette says any other gun would have the same problems, I proved her wrong when I managed to load a pistol cartridge five seconds faster than her, and I’m an Earth Pony. That, and the genius idea to use the magazine as the trigger guard means anypony who’s not a unicorn is probably not gonna be able to fire it. Also, did I mention that it’s incredibly inaccurate?

Enough about the gun, time to talk about its wielder.

Belette was a unicorn, purple fur, with a pink and white mane. Her cutiemark was a wrench, representing her skill in mechanics, while I still remained blank. I thought was going to get mine in bartering but apparently I only did slightly average in that. But I didn’t care, I knew it would come sooner or later.

“You’re taking his side on this?” I asked, giving her a disappointed look.

“No, I’m taking the side that makes more sense.” She replied.

“Come on, don’t you want to go out there and be free? Think of the endless possibilities! Think of what lies beyond these walls!”

“I’ve imagined what it would look like. It looks désastreux.” She replied.

I paused for a moment to think of exactly what I could use to entice her. Not long after, I found my excuse.

“Think of all the guns out there, more than enough spare parts to upgrade Mirage to prime condition.” I said, a smug look present on my face as Belette froze, the magic that once surrounded the cloth was now non-existent, the cloth itself had been dropped onto the table.

“When do we leave?”

Author's Note

A/N: désastreux means disastrous in case you readers were wondering.