Fallout: Equestria Guardian

by Bronies Incorporated

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 1483

A wingless griffon helps a small colt to get to safety.

Truth Matters, a.k.a Slice, a 26 year old wingless griffon, meets a young yet mature colt with a dead family. He decides to get him to safety, but, instead, they make an unlikely alliance.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-23 06:17:44 UTC

Slice: The Beginning

I was heading for Tenpony Tower, crossing through a small town, when I heard gunshots coming from a large building at the edge of town. The perimeter of the building was littered with up-tossed dirt, signaling that multiple mines had been activated. I decided to inspect the battle by walking through the front door. I soon realized that around six raiders were killing a family of unicorns for reasons unknown, probably that raiders are just evil shitbags that don't deserve to live. Soon, I joined the fight, easily killing the rather weak raiders with my blades.

After dealing with the parasites that are raiders, I looked at the bleeding, dying body of a dark blue unicorn with yellow-and-red striped mane. His last words were, "Thank you-cough-stranger. Tha-"

His lifeless body slumped to the floor as the glimmer in his eyes dulled out. He died of multiple shots to the head, leaving his brain visible. Knife wounds covered the rest of his body. A truly gruesome sight.

I searched the bodies of the raiders, finding another clip to my Uzi and some food. Heading upstairs, I found a lifeless, rotting mare holding the rails of the staircase. Her skull and body were riddled with bullet holes, and her face was so damned smashed up, I couldn't make out how she had looked before the raiders.

"Celestia bless your soul," I muttered, as on impulse. I soon head up the bloodied staircase to search the rest of the rooms. Then I heard a slight whimpering from one of the bedrooms. Entering, I was startled to find a young unicorn colt levitating a 9mm pistol.

"GET THE HELL BACK, YOU CELESTIADAMMED MONSTER!" he screamed.

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down there. The raiders are dead. Its all right." I said.

"NO! ITS NOT! THEY KILLED MY FAMILY! I HAVE NOPONY! I have-sniff-nopony!" The colt began to cry for his dead relatives.

"I know how you feel, kid. My brother was killed in combat while working for the Talons." I tried to get closer to him.

"NO! STAND BACK, DAMMIT!" Tears streamed down his face. "I DON'T KNOW YOU! STAND BACK!"

"It's OK kid! I'm a friend." I have never dealt with a grief stricken colt before. I had no idea what to do.

"AS I JUST FUCKING SAID, ITS NOT! ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF!"

"Listen, dammit! I killed the damn raiders! You will be ok! I'll get you to safety!"

"I DON'T WANT SAFETY! I WANT MY FAMILY BACK!"

"Put down the gun, and then we can see what we can do."

Surprisingly, he listened. He headed over to his bed and sat.

"My name is Slice. What's yours?"

"Torn. My parents named me after my complexion."

Only then had I noticed that the young colt had a purple and red mane and a yellow body. If I did not just evade death, I wouldn't have been able to stifle a laugh.

"What happened? Why did the raiders come?" I asked

"I don't know," he replied, his eyes tearing up again. "Daddy just told me to run upstairs and hide. Then, he took a weapon and aimed it at the door" I suddenly remembered the double barrel shotgun close to his body when I found him.

"Was your dad a trapper, kid? I noticed mine explosions outside your house."

"He did put a lot of traps around the house and village."

"Oh, OK. Listen, kid, I don't do this often--in fact, I have never done this at all--but you can join me on my trek to Tenpony. Maybe they will accept you there. Remember, the only reason I'm asking is because I'm already heading there, and that you wouldn't survive a week in the wasteland, you got me?"

"Yes, Slice. Is that your real name?"

"To you, it is. Now, let's camp the night here. I don't see another place to go. I'll just put up my noisemaker and I'll be right back."

"What's a noisemaker?"

"A noisemaker is pretty much a bunch of pots and pans stacked against the door so that, if anyone enters, I'll hear it."

I left the room and started heading downstairs when the smell of rotten flesh hit me like a brick wall. It took me thirty minutes to get rid of all of the bodies.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE  YOU DOING?!?" The kid startled me as I was moving the faceless mare onto the body pile to burn.

"I'm burning the bodies so that they don't reek." I replied.

"NOT MY PARENTS, IDIOT! WE BURY THEM!" I could see the teary eyes widening.

After giving it a moment of thought, I replied, "Alright. You move your parent's bodies to that field while I burn the raiders outside."

About an hour later, we were done burying. I ushered him inside after a whole thirty minutes of crying. We did not speak for the rest of the evening while I set up my makeshift bed on the floor of his room. Soon after, I could hear the heavy breathing of sleep coming from his resting body. Slowly, my eyes closed, and I was soon consumed by the darkness.

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It was my first day at training. We would learn the technics used by the Talons in all classes of fighting. I was currently in my household, getting ready for the day.

My mother swooped from the kitchen to me and said, "Ohh, my little dumpling! Your first day of training! I'm so proud of you! Maybe you will end up like your brother!"

My brother, Brave Matters, was the top in the training center. He soon became commander of the First Flock, pretty much the leader of the best of the best. It was almost as high of an honor as becoming the head of the Flocks themselves.

"I hope so mother, I hope so."

An hour later, I was at the front doors. Entering, a group of large griffons came up to me. Rotch, the oldest, had green tinted forehead-feathers and was my neighbor. He was known for making trouble around the school and neighborhood.

"Well, well. Lookie what we have here. The loner, Truth Matters." He said, emphasizing my name with a mocking tone.

If it is not already known, I was, in fact, a loner. I barely ever talked, and some griffons thought that I was mute. I did not reply to his comment.

"What, claw got your tongue mute?" he continued to mock me in a very unnerving way.

"You know I ain't mute, dumbass. But we all wish you were." I rudely replied.

"OHHHHHH!" Onlookers started to crowd around me and Rotch.

"Heh, I'll give it to you, that was good. And, since it was good, you'll give me your bottle caps so I don't break your tiny scull." His size suddenly became an advantage.

We need bottle caps to pay for the food that is given. It's kind of like lunch money.

"So, where's my caps, bitch." He snickered.

"On your mom's dresser."

"HOLY CRAP that was great best comeback ever awesome," were the responses from the crowd.

"Okay, you little shit, that's IT!" He hit me with such force that I flew across the room, losing consciousness. When I hit the wall, I blacked out.

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Bolting awake, I felt a headache coming on. To ease the headache, I tried, and succeded, falling into a dreamless sleep.

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Footnote: Level Up!

Perk- Little Leaguer: +5 in Melee and in Explosives

An Introduction

I never wanted to kill people for money. Being a strong fighter and a fast flyer, I could have been one of the best mercenaries of the Talons. But, I did not want to live with killing possibly innocent people for bottle caps. My brother and my wife died on the job. My mother will never fly again. My whole family has been affected. I did not want to help the devastation grow.

My real name is Truth Matters. My mother, Hope Matters, always believed that honesty was the best policy. But I earned my nickname, Slice, after killing a Hell Hound with two blacksteel--an extremely strong steel with a black texture--katanas. After that feat, I was going to be the youngest mercenary to follow the Talon contract. After my first mission, I decided to quit. Here is the thing about Talons: if you do not want to become a mercenary, you are banished, and, if you are banished, you have your wings cut off, symbolizing that your freedom was taken from you. But I learned to deal with the pain of wingless travel.

I was allowed to keep my weapons of choice: two blacksteel katanas and one Uzi. Since then, I have traveled the Equestrian wasteland, seeking solace or a purpose for my being. This is the story of me finding that purpose, finding solace. Enjoy.

-- Truth Matters