Who Do ya love?

by Whiskeylullaby

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 1344

Whiskey lullaby lives by his guitar and his gun

Whiskey Lullaby is an accomplished guitarist and reluctant gunslinger in Conestoga territory. ( a plains region in southwestern Equestria.) He wants to make music, drink, and chase after mares. However, his plan is interrupted by wealthy Heiress Summer song and her griffin bodyguard Jack. He wonders one thing as he is thrust into a world of political assassinations, Mafiosi, and corrupt officials. How will this simple earth pony cowpoke get outta this mess?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-26 07:30:02 UTC

Chapter 1: Music, Whiskey, and lead

Once again dawn came too soon. My head pounded as I rolled off my flank....And immediately fell into an ice cold pool of my own vomit. "Aw shit" I muttered as I stood on shaky hooves, Ignoring the pounding in my head.  Nearby, my latest...Companion stirred. "You alright Drifter?" she purred. "fine" I replied as I gathered my stuff. "Name's Lullaby. Whiskey Lullaby. You'd do well to remember it Darlin, cause I'm Gonna be A big name in the wastes someday."  The mare giggled and settled back into bed. " sure thing hon. and when that falls through, give me a call. I could use a buck like you in my bar.

I smiled as I put my pistol in it's holster. "Don't be too quick ta count me out miss, I tend to do better when the odds are against me" I placed my sun bleached leather hat upon my Black mane and stepped out the door. Stairs led down to the Bar proper. At the bottom steps I found myself face to face with a very drunk, and very, very , large green unicorn stallion with a red mane.

"YOU!" he slurred as he stumbled drunkenly towards me "you're the reason Rum Cake won't see me no more!" This wasn't lookin' good for me. He was huge, and I didn't want any trouble. Killin' was never my style. Mama was a fan of Fluttershy. "Do better" were the first words I heard Every time I done wrong. And sweet Celestia did I try. Not my fault I was always on the wrong side of a drunk with a bone to pick.  Rum Cake had heard the buck 'cause she appeared at the top of the stairs. "I dumped you a month before Whiskey here wandered into town Chester. Now git, Afore ya make a nuisance of yerself." Chester went red with rage and his magic wrapped around a knife at his flank.  Time seemed to slow as I reached for my holster. As his knife cleared leather I was already aiming my trusty revolver.

One round later, it was over. Chester lie there holding his head about where his horn had been. I turned to look at Rum cake, she was frozen in shock. I spat my Revolver back  into it's holster and walked up to her. "Call the sheriff and the doctor. Once he's patched up let him dry out for a few days in jail. Just remember, He drew first." She nodded silently, Mouth still slightly agape. I walked out the door of the bar, one of the few buildings that remained of the original town. Grainsville it was called. The sheriff and the town doctor rushed in and pulled the big green buck out. After organizing a few of the townsfolk to carry the bastard, the sheriff trotted up to me. "Sorry 'bout Chester drifter, he's been too deep in the bottle fer his own good since rum cake left 'im". I looked at the older stallion and gave a tired smile. " I'm just glad I didn't have to kill him."

The older stallion looked at me oddly "Not that it's my business, but why didn't ya? He was clearly gonna try for your life."

I pulled down my hat. "I was always taught that life was precious. I've had to kill before, but I try not to. I'm  headin' out sheriff. Been a real pleasure to play for your folks."

I adjusted the guitar on my back and walked away. After several hours of walkin', I as down. Letting my sore hooves rest as I unslung my Guitar and began to sing

I am a buck of constant sorrow.

I've seen trouble all my days

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I bid farewell to old Appleloosa, the place I was born and raised.

the place where I was born and raised

For six long years I've been in trouble, no pleasures here on earth I've found

for in this world I’m bound to ramble, I have no friends to help me now

I have no friends to help me now

So it’s faretheewell my own true lover, I never expect to see you again

for i’m bound to ride that northern railroad, perhaps I’ll die upon that train

perhaps i’ll die upon that train

You can bury me in some deep valley, for many years for me to lay

Then maybe you’ll learn to love another while I am sleeping in my grave

While I am sleeping in my grave

Maybe your friends think I am a stranger, my face you’ll never see no more

But there is a promise that is given, I’ll meet you on heavens white shore

I’ll meet you on that pure white shore...

The road I was on was a commonly used trade route and a few caravaneers clapped. when I threw my hat on the ground several dozen caps landed in it. I said my thanks and began to pack up when a young and clean looking mare called out to me. She was followed by a large griffin with larger guns.  "Sir! I Sir!" She shouted as I began trotting away. "That was a beautiful piece. I am Summer Song, And I'd like you to accompany me to Busted Saddle." Now, busted saddle was the closest thing that the Conestoga wasteland ever got to civilization. It was run by a bunch of folks who's ancestors took over the town and nearby army base after the bombs hit. Luckily, the bombs meant for busted saddle were diverted to Canterlot and the hoof. Needless to say, if I could impress a posh, wealthy group like the people in that town...I'd be rolling in caps. Hey, maybe I'd get an interview with DJ pon3 too. so I said  "Sure. why not?"  After a bit of negotiation, I began traveling with them. The griffin was named Jack, and summer song's daddy was the one who held his contract. He'd asked the big griffin to look out for his girl. Despite his scarred and rough lookin exterior he was good company. Taught me some griffin folk songs (and some dirty limericks).

After several hours of hard marchin' we finally settled down to camp. Summer Song slept in a tent while me and jack sat around the fire, drinkin scotch and Wild Pegasus. Things seemed like they were lookin' up. Boy was I in for one helluva surprise.

We awoke to the sounds of whooping and hollering comin' from the hills overlooking the Roadside.  "Shit!" I exclaimed. I drew my pistol, the heavy .45 revolver's weight comforting in my mouth. Jack Had already gotten one of his many rifles out as he took off.  "Guard Summer!" He shouted as the raiders came pouring from hidden positions.  Already he was strafing them, Raining down accurate and deadly fire from above. Unfortunately, there were dozens of the crazy bastards, and plenty were closing in on me and the terrified heiress. I began firing, Motioning for Summer to take cover as I did. As I looked down the sights of my gun, time seemed to slow. One bullet for the raider with the  Cutie mark of raping a headless corpse, one for the creep in the fetish outfit, and finally four for the armored buck pointing a shotgun at my head.  I crouched down, reloading as several rounds chewed up the old skycar I was using for cover.  Thankfully though, Jack was causing enough of a ruckus that the raiders were rethinking their attack. Plus, several other caravans had arrived and began fighting too. Nobody likes raiders but raiders right? After a few minutes the extra firepower had driven off or killed the remaining crazies. I collected a few weapons and some odds and ends. Got about 89 caps in all. I traded most of the guns and scraps to the traders with the caravan for caps, bullets and shotgun shells for the sawn off  I picked up. I'd fixed it with parts from a couple of other shotguns I'd found. I had a feeling I was going to need it.