Fallout: Equestria - Rolling Bones

by Honey Mead

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure, Tragedy, Crossover
Length: 44910

The Wasteland is the worlds largest casino, where the lives of everyone you care about are the ante and every bullet is just another roll of the dice.

I didn't want this. I didn't want any of it. But every time... every Tartarus damned time...
It all started back in Dise, where fortunes could be won, or lost, on a single the roll of the dice. I never wanted to leave. Dise wasn't for me though, and I had to leave her for some fool Hero to fix. No, my chains dragged me, kicking and screaming, far to the west. To the cities of Palomino, where demons dice for pony souls... too bad everything's coming up Sevens.

(Palomino Tales are side-stories. Canon, but not necessary.)
(G-Doc Index)
Co-Conspirator: Doomande
Editor: (Positions Open)
Pre-Reader: Amethyst Wind (Positions Open)

Ask The Arbitrors
Art Collection
Also check out the Theme song made by Killer-931.
Special thanks to Kkat, for the original Fallout: Equestria
Special thanks to No One, for FoE: Heroes

Published 2012-05-12 09:44:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-16 06:53:41 UTC

Prologue: My Name is Lucky Sevens

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Chapter 1: A Birthday in Dise

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 1: A Birthday in Dise

“Welcome to the Wasteland, the world’s largest casino. Where every day is a gamble, and the house always wins.”

I could hear them. Mommy tried her best to be quiet, but I could still hear them. He wasn’t quiet. He screamed at her, but I couldn’t understand the words. He was angry with her, I think. She had done something or said something that he didn’t like. I heard her scream and then fall to the floor. I wanted to cry out. To run to her. But if I did he would hit me too. So I hid in my box and cried silently to myself, hugging my new toy. Today was going to be perfect.

++FoE:RB++

Mommy tried to wake me up with a kiss on my forehead, she never did that. I kept my eyes closed and pretended to still be asleep.

“You don’t want to sleep in on your special day, now do you?” she asked, poking me in the side.

Special day? My eyes shot open when I remembered what day it was. Throwing my blanket to the side I jumped up and down on the mattress, my wings buzzing. “It’s my birthday! It’s my birthday!”

Mommy snatched me out of the air and squeezed me tightly. “Little birthday colts still need to wash up before breakfast.”

Wiggling out of her grasp I flew to the tiny bathroom at the end of the hall. Brown water sputtered out of the faucet at first, but that only lasted for a few seconds. Once it cleared up I quickly washed my forehooves and wings. It was a special day, my special day.

Mommy was smiling as I sat down at the table. She had set two places, one for me and one for her. With her good wing she poured me a glass of water, she spilled a lot because her wing was shaky. By the time she placed it onto the table in front of me it was half empty, but I didn’t care. Lifting the salad bowl in her mouth she put it in the middle of the table, and with a set of tongs she began to serve us. Daisy petals, bits of apple, pumpkin scrapings, and lots of hay, my favorite.

I looked up at her as she took her seat across from me and smiled the biggest smile I could. Her eyes were clearer than I ever remember seeing them. She’d been off her medication for almost a month now and everything was wonderful. Those Watcher ponies had said that everything would be better now, and they were right!

Mommy smiled and trotted around the table as I licked the last bit of pumpkin off my plate. “It’s your birthday, Love, would you like to go play with the other foals?”

I shook my head, red and white bangs tickling my nose. “No, I wanna play with the bestest mommy in Dise!”

She laughed at that and pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tight. I felt her body shaking, and she sniffled.

“What’s wrong mommy?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Love.” She squeezed tighter, “I am the happiest mommy on all of Equis.” I didn’t understand, but she was smiling, so I was happy too.

After that we played games all morning. Checkers and pin the tail on the pony and tag and hide ‘n seek. I was really good at hide ‘n seek, I could hide places that mommy couldn’t. We had so much fun I didn’t want to stop, but mommy said that she needed to go shopping. She said that she was going to buy something special for dinner and that she would let me pick out a new toy! A new toy! I hadn’t gotten a new toy in... forever! Best birthday EVER!

Mommy grabbed her bags as we left our shack and headed for the market. I walked with mommy the entire way. When we first left I was flying beside her, but when I noticed the sad look on her face I landed and nuzzled her leg. I knew it was hard for her sometimes. She used to be able to fly, until she had the accident. Her wing never healed properly, and she missed flying. I wished she could fly with me, but even on super special days not every wish can come true.

The market was filled with ponies screaming out the different things they had for sale. I was a little scared by all the different ponies, but only a little, so I stayed extra close to mommy. We stopped at a bunch of the shops and got more daisy petals and even rose petals! Oh, I loved rose petals, they’re delicious. Then she bought some eggplant and other things that I wasn’t so happy about, but rose petals! Yay! One of the nice shopkeepers even gave me a treat, ‘cause it was my birthday! I jumped into the air to grab the paper wrapped candy, but mommy snagged it out of the air with her wing. “Not till after dinner, Love.”

“But MOMMY!” I cried pulling on her leg.

“I can still take the rose petals back.” Not my rose petals! My teeth clicked as they slammed shut.

By the time we walked into the last store I was bouncing with glee. I’m getting a toy! I’m getting a toy!

Mommy talked to the shopkeeper about grown up things before asking what toys she had for little colts. Yay! The shopkeeper smiled, she had an ugly smile, but I was too happy to not smile back. Toys! She was a unicorn and used her magic to open a box behind the counter and place a bunch of toys on the counter for me to choose from. I flew up to get a better look at them.

There were air-chariots and teddy bears and a doll. I almost yelled at her that I wasn’t some silly filly. Then I looked at it. It was the most coolest doll ever. It was a pegasus doll, with a light blue coat and the most awesomest mane with every color I knew, except pink which was good because I didn’t like stupid girly pink. She was rearing up with her forehooves in the air and her wings flared out. Her head was turned a little to the right and she was winking right at me! There was nothing in the world that I wanted more than that doll. I swooped down and snatched it right off the counter.

The moment my hooves touched it I felt better; like I could take on the world and nothing could stop me. The shopkeeper smiled at my mommy as she stared up at me with a surprised look on her face.

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Love?” A rattling sound echoed out of my nodding head, and she turned back to the ugly unicorn.

I didn’t hear the price, but I did see mommy’s face.

I almost cried! I knew what that face meant, we wouldn’t be able to get it. I slowly floated down to the floor. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, but I wouldn’t cry. I was a big colt and big colts don’t cry.

I reached up to put the little pegasus back on the counter, but mommy stopped me. She was putting a pile of bottle caps onto the counter! She’d bought it!

I jumped into the air and wrapped myself around her neck. “THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!” I squealed with glee. Bestest mommy ever!

When we got home I noticed that there was writing on the base of the doll. “What does this say?” I asked holding the doll up for her to see.

“Be Awesome.” She said without even looking at the doll. That was so cool! I wanted to be awesome.

Mommy continued into the shack dropping her saddlebags onto the table. When I looked up at her my smile faded away. She sat beside the table staring straight ahead. I stepped up to her and held up the doll.

“Do you wan’ hoo p’ay wiff her?” I asked, holding the base between my teeth.

She forced a smile onto her face, “No, Love, it’s your special day. Nopony but you should play with her today.” She let out a sigh. “I need to make dinner, why don’t you go outside and play for awhile.”

“I ca’ helf.” I offered, mommy liked it when I helped in the kitchen.

“No, Love, you go out and have some fun.”

“I wuve you, mommy.” I wrapped my hooves around her leg, and she mussed up my mane before shooing me off to go play.

++FoE:RB++

I had so much fun playing with my new toy that it was almost dark before I knew it. When I went back inside I knew that something was wrong. The saddlebags from the stores were sitting on the table and full of the food we had bought. Mommy, where’s mommy? I heard some sobbing coming from mommy’s room, so I went to go see what was wrong. She was laying on the floor, curled up and crying.

“Mommy?” I asked, stepping closer, “What’s wrong mommy?” She shook her head and tried to say something, but I couldn’t understand her. When I stepped next to her she reached out and pulled me into a hug. She held me even tighter than she had at breakfast, shaking. “Are these happy tears too?” She only cried harder. I didn’t understand and I started crying too.

I don’t know how long we laid there, but we didn’t get up until there was a heavy knock on the door. Mommy jumped to her hooves and began pacing. Her eyes weren’t sad anymore, they were too busy darting around the room. She told me to go to my room and to not come out. She told me that no matter what happened I was to stay in my room until she came to get me. I nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from my cheeks.

I hid under the clothes in my hooflocker, clutching my doll close. Mommy was scared and so was I, but my doll was awesome and awesome pegasuses were never scared. I wanted to be awesome, too, so I did my best not to be scared. When the door slammed open I almost screamed; I wasn’t very good at being awesome.

I was too busy trying to be awesome to hear what the stallion was saying to mommy. But I knew he wasn’t happy. The more he talked the more angrier he got. Mommy tried to calm him down, but that only made him madder. I squeezed my doll tight. Be awesome. Be awesome...

I heard mommy cry out and fall to the floor. The stallion let out a laugh, I didn’t like his laugh, it wasn’t a happy laugh.

“I warned you bitch! You had your chance and it is time to pay up.” Mommy screamed. When I started to hear the other noises I covered my ears. I had heard them before and I knew I wasn’t supposed to.

“No!” She screamed followed by a sharp crack. He laughed again. Her screams sounded like she was under water. I cried. I wanted to help but I couldn’t move.The laughter and screams echoed in my ears.

There was a loud snap, and everything went quiet. The only sound came from the stallions heavy breathing. Then came the crashing. I heard him moving through the house, breaking everything as he went. His hoofsteps banged against the floor as he stomped through the shack. I heard him stop at the door to my room. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what would happen if he found me and I didn’t want to know.

The door slammed open and I almost jumped. I struggled to not make a sound even though all I wanted to do was scream. My heart beat against my chest, but nothing happened.

Then I heard him snort and move away from my room. The window groaned as he opened it.

I didn’t understand, why had he left? Then I heard the other voices. When their hoof steps neared I cowered deeper into my chest. The voices gasped and rushed about the kitchen. “Oh Celestia, what happened?”

“Oh no, is she...?”

Mommy?

“Didn’t she have a colt with her last time?”

I heard hooves rushing around the house. “Do you remember his name?”

“Lucky, I think.”

“Lucky, you can come out now.” They kept calling my name, but I was too scared to answer.

They found me. Opening the locker where I kept everything mommy had ever given me. I didn’t know them, but I was too afraid to do anything. The gray mare picked me up and hugged me close. “It’s okay, Lucky, you’re safe now. Everything will be alright.”

She lied.

++FoE:RB++

My eyes stung. My throat hurt. I heard voices talking softly nearby. I sniffled back a sob because awesome ponies don’t cry. My bed gently rocked back and forth, like when mommy carried me on her back.

“Mommy?”

The voices stopped. The rocking stopped.

“Lucky?” somepony asked. I whimpered; that wasn’t mommy. “It’s okay, Lucky.” A strange tingling tickled my skin and I felt weightless. I was moving. I whimpered again, fighting back the tears, because awesome ponies don’t cry. “Shhhh, it’s okay, you’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” I was surrounded in warmth as the weightlessness disappeared and two legs hugged me close. I whimpered again, tears welling up in my eyes. Awesome ponies don’t cry.

“Can’t this wait till we get back to the compound?” a deeper voice asked. “Uhg, fine.”

One of the hooves holding me began to pet my mane, pushing the hairs out of my face. “You’re safe now, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

My eyes opened just enough to see the blurry gray face of the pony holding me. “Mommy?”

Her eyes got real sad as her mouth moved without making any noise. “L-Lucky... I...” she glanced at the other voice, only to look back right away. “I am so sorry.”

I’m not an awesome pony.

++FoE:RB++

I heard hoof steps getting closer and buried myself deeper into the sheets, hiding under the pillow. The flap swished softly as somepony entered the tent. I closed my ears against the soft impacts of hooves stepping right up to the edge of the bed. Light exploded behind my eyelids, the bed sheets and pillow flying into the air.

“Peek-a-boo! I see you,” cooed Nurse Gray, poking me with a hoof. When I didn’t respond she stopped poking me and started running her hoof over my mane. “How are you feeling today, Lucky?” I mumbled into the mattress. I liked Nurse Gray, she was pretty and nice, but I didn’t want to talk. Nurse wasn’t her name, I just liked calling her that because it made her smile. “That bad, huh? I guess the other colts and fillies will just have to be disappointed for another day.”

“O-other c-colts and fillies?” I croaked, turning my head a little.

“Well, yeah, silly,” she laughed, poking one of my ribs. “You didn’t think you were the only one here, did you?”

I didn’t want to smile at her, but I couldn’t help it. “Wh-why would they be dis-disappointed?”

“Because I’ve been telling them all about you. They really want to meet you, but I told them that they had to wait until you’re ready.”

“I... I guess I could come out,” I sniffed, “and say hi.” I didn’t want anypony else to be sad; I was sad enough for everypony.

She smiled. I sniffled and smiled back. Nurse Gray had stayed with me all of that first night, whispering to me and hugging me. She told me stories about how she got her Cutie Mark, a partially unrolled bandage with a curved stitching needle on top, and how wonderful the Watchers were. I didn’t really hear most of it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Come on then,” she said, taking a step back as I slid off the bed to follow her out of the tent.

I hadn’t seen much of anything when they brought me in a few days ago, and, staying inside the tent, I really didn’t know anything about the compound. It was a lot cleaner than the streets had been around my shack, but I still didn’t like it.

I stayed close to Gray’s side as we trotted past row after row of tall blue and white canvas tents. The occasional rustle of fabric and voices of the ponies moving around inside the tents kept me squeezing myself closer Nurse Gray’s side. I was almost walking under her a few times until she giggled and stepped to the side. We eventually came to a large clearing filled with other foals playing a game.

One of them noticed us and stopped, pointing a hoof. A ripple rolled through the herd as everypony stopped to stare at us. I tried to hide behind Gray’s foreleg, my feathers rustling against my side.

“...pegasus...”

“He has wings?”

“I’ve never met a pegasus before.”

As though by unspoken agreement the herd of foals surged forward.

“Can you fly?”

“Can you do stunts?”

“Do a barrel roll!”

I shied away from the press of ponies, trying to hid behind Nurse Gray. My doll was tucked under my wing. I’d have to take it out to fly, and I didn’t want to.

Nurse Gray gently put a hoof to my side and forced me out from behind her. “Now children, you all need to give him some space, and remember what it was like when you first came here.” That wasn’t it at all, they all wanted me to put down my doll. “Now, who wants to play a game?” Everypony got really excited, their heads bobbing up and down. Reaching up and Nurse Gray tapped one of the colts on the nose. “You’re it!“ she shouted with glee before bolting off. The rest of us took a moment to realize what had just happened, then all at once we were off.

I didn’t have enough room in my mind to avoid the other colts and fillies and be sad at the same time. Before I knew it, I was giggling with the rest of them as I ran around the clearing. A yellow unicorn filly was chasing me, but I wanted to be it, so I slowed down just enough for her to catch me. When her hoof tapped my flank I stopped and spun around. She giggled happily and took off running the other way. Now it was my turn to do the chasing.

I looked around and chose my target. He was a big colt with a white and blue mane and deep red coat. I took off running straight at him, but he just smiled and stood his ground. The distance between us was closing fast. I was sure I’d get him. There was no way he could be as fast or quick as I was. Right when I was about to touch him he jumped! Right over my head! I was so busy watching him sail up into the air that I didn’t stop moving until I hit the tent.

The tent fabric buckled a little then sprang back, throwing me onto my back. I think I heard some of them laughing, but I didn’t care. I was going to get him next time. I rolled back to my hooves, shaking the dirt from my mane and looked for him. There he was. He’d moved all the way across the yard. I started running again. As I closed the distance I watched for him to start jumping. His legs bent and he took off into the air. I opened my wings and soared up, slamming into him. We both went down tumbling across the dirt. When we stopped I was standing over him and giggled “You’re it!”

I jumped off of him and took wing, flying back to the center of the play area. But none of the other foals were playing anymore. They’d all gathered around in a circle, even Nurse Gray was there. I wanted to see what they were looking at. That’s when I realized what I’d done... MY DOLL!

I felt the tears stinging my eyes as I pushed through everypony to the center of the circle. There she was ‘Be Awesome’ shining in the daylight. Without looking at anypony else I snatched my doll in my mouth, jumped into the air, and took off. I didn’t pay any attention to where I was going, I just wanted to get away.

I hid in a large metal chest. I think mommy called them dumpsters, but I didn’t care what that meant. It was dark inside, and I couldn’t really hear too much outside of it. I didn’t care, I’d almost lost my doll. I curled up with my doll and fought off my tears.

Awesome ponies don’t cry.

I don’t know when I fell asleep or when they found me, but somepony must have because I woke up in a bed. Nurse Gray was there, sleeping off in a corner with her dark gray mane all messed up and hiding her face.

I didn’t have my doll! Where was my doll? I frantically looked around until I spotted it on a table next to Nurse Gray. I fell out of bed with a thud, and then jumped across the room to get my doll.

As I picked it up in my mouth I felt a tingling sensation wash over me. Everything had gone slightly grey, and I was floating! I started to panic a little until I saw Nurse Gray looking over at me with her horn glowing. She gently set me back into bed and sat on the ground next to me.

She reached out a hoof and softly moved my mane out of my eyes. “Is that your special toy?” she asked.

I nodded, gripping it tightly in my legs.

“Did your mommy give that to you?”

Mommy? I felt tears in my eyes and nodded again.

“It’s okay to cry, you know, you don’t have to hold it in.” But awesome ponies don’t cry! “Even Rainbow Dash cried sometimes.”

I looked at her funnily through the tears in my eyes. Who? “You don’t know?”

Don’t know what? I was confused.

Her lips curled into a little smile, “That is a doll of the most famous, most awesome pegasus ever: Rainbow Dash. She was a very important pony during the Great War and was also the bearer of the Element of Loyalty.”

I didn’t know what she was talking about, but it sounded like Rainbow Dash really was awesome.

“Do you know the story of the Elements of Harmony?”

I shook my head, mommy never read me any stories. Her horn lit up and opened the saddlebags beside her chair. A book floated out to lay between us on the bed. A corroded and dented unicorn head decorated the cover.

“Would you like to hear the story?” I sniffled and nodded. Nurse Gray opened the cover and began to read. “Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria…

++FoE:RB++

I woke up the next day to somepony poking my head. I swatted at the hoof not wanting to open my eyes. I had been having the most awesome dream about Rainbow Dash clearing the skies. It was too late, the dream was gone. I groaned at the hoof and rolled over.

“Get up sleepy head, it’s breakfast time.” I just nickered and buried myself deeper into the pillow. The voice returned in an almost singsong tone, “And I have a present for you.”

My eyes shot open as I threw off the covers and bounced on the bed. Presents are awesome. Nurse Gray stood next to the bed with a bowl of greens and petals floating in the air beside her. She looked beautiful and I told her so. “You look pretty today.”

“Well aren’t you the little charmer.” She said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Here, eat your breakfast. Then you can have your present.”

I gobbled up the hay as fast as I could, not even really tasting it. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I took my first bite, and I ate it all the faster. Hunger was the least of my concerns; it was present time! Nurse Gray chuckled at me when I was finished, staring up at her expectantly. “Well aren’t you eager? No point in making you wait, I guess. Here you go.”

A wad of leather straps floated out of her saddlebag into the air between us. I frowned at it. It wasn’t a present. It was bits of leather! I didn’t want bits of leather, I wanted a toy! She saw my face and chided me, “Now, Lucky, you should never judge a gift given freely. I know it doesn’t look like much, but I think when you see what it does you’ll be more than satisfied. Can I see your Rainbow Dash doll?” I frowned even more and she sighed, “Please, just hold it out so I can see it.”

I kept frowning, but I did as she asked; I didn’t want to make her sad. I unfurled my wing and held the doll out between us. Nurse Gray smiled at me. She moved the wad of leather and began wrapping Rainbow Dash up in it. When she was done, the leather straps were secured tightly to Dash with a loop coming off her back between her flared out wings. Very carefully she lifted it from my wings and slid the loop around my neck.

“There you go.” she said pulling my mane out from under the strap, “I think you two were meant to be together. And now you can keep her close, no matter what happens.”

I jumped forward, wrapping Gray in a hug. Tears were forming in my eyes again, but these were happy tears.

*************************
Footnote:
Prologue Progress: 33%

Author's Note

Thanks to Kkat and No One for providing the inspiration and set pieces for this story. It simply would not be possible without them. Please be sure to read their stories

Fallout Equestria by Kkat
Fallout Equestria: Heroes by No One

Chapter 2-1: A Lucky Watcher

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 2-1: A Lucky Watcher

“Why, exactly, did we come here?”

The cotton bandage parted between scissor blades with ease. Instead of falling away, the absorbent fibers stuck fast, held in place by the dried pus and blood. Patches of fur and skin tore away as I removed the bandage, and I nearly gagged at the stench of infection and decay. More of the viscous fluids immediately resumed their flow.

Dabbing the fluids with a gauze pad, I tried to examine the seriously infected cut. Bike, I think his name was, hissed under my ministrations.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not good,” I said, picking up a cotton wrapped, wooden bit and held it up before him. “You’re gonna wanna to bite this.”

The light of recognition dawned in his eyes as he nodded slowly. He took a steadying breath before taking it between his teeth and closing his eyes, hiding his trepidation of the coming pain.

I took a moment to consider my option.

What was once little more than a two inch knife cut when he came to us a week ago had gotten infected. Black necrotic tissue ringed the wound, and it needed to be cut out. The biggest problem was, honestly, my own personal issues; I did not like using Med-X at all. This, however, was one of those times I didn’t get to make that choice. Foregoing the addictive pain-killer could do more damage than using it.

Grabbing the auto-injector in a wing I held it just above the wound. “You'll feel a small pinch.”

The instant the needle’s base hit skin it hissed and the Med-X shot into his blood. I watched for a minute until the Bike’s face relaxed, his pupils dilating. Making sure it had taken effect, I used the spent needle to poke the sensitive frog under his hoof. Satisfied, I dropped the empty syringe into the wastebasket.

To stem the flow of blood, I tied a leather thong just below his knee.

Some ponies are under the delusion that healing potions are miracle cure-alls: they’re all idiots. Healing potions close wounds, and that’s it. Sometimes, if a pony is really lucky, it will push foreign particles out of the wound. Most of the time, however, anything that’s in there will remain in there: bullets, blades, dirt, sand, and, most importantly, infections. If the wound isn’t properly cleaned first, using a healing potion will cause more problems than it solves.

With a scalpel held steady between my pinions, I began to cut. The blade entered the clean tissue as close to the necrotic flesh as I could reliably get without risking missing any. I glanced up at the stallion. His head lolled from side to side, a small moan escaping around the bit.

If it weren’t addictive, Med-X would be a wonder drug. Rather than making the pain disappear like some other painkillers, Med-X just makes ponies not care about the pain. It means that a patient can still tell their doctor when something hurts without giving them a headache from the screams.

It was slow, bloody work. The amazingly sharp blade sliced through his flesh with ease. I was always fascinated with the way skin parted and for a brief moment the blood held off, displaying the texture and flowing lines of the meat beneath.

Carefully maneuvering the scalpel, I cut around the dead tissue. With painstaking care, I removed the infection.

Finally finishing, I took a moment to admire my work. The cuts were clean-ish, and there was no dead tissue to be seen. Placing the scalpel in the tray with the discarded pulp, I retrieved a small bottle of pure alcohol. With the leg held up and a thick wad of cloth under the wound, I slowly poured the cleansing liquid into the gash. Blood and alcohol flowed into the cloth, tinting it a horrid shade of pink.

I hate pink. It’s not even a real color.

Dabbing away the blood, I realized that I’d had to remove too much meat to have a chance of sewing the wound together. With an annoyed sigh, I fished inside the medical supply box and pulled out a healing potion.

“I’m giving you this,” I said, waving the bottle over his head, “only because I don’t trust you to keep your damn leg clean for a day, much less a month.”

The idiot didn’t respond, too doped up on Med-X. I wanted to smack him, but that’s not what Watchers do. No, Watchers fix idiots just enough so that they can go back out and get themselves hurt again, secure in the knowledge that there is a group of ponies stupid enough to stitch them back together.

I popped the seal and poured the magical liquid over the open wound. I had to look away as the flesh began knitting itself back together, filling in where the chunk of flesh had been missing moments before. Healing potions are wonderful things; they save lots of lives, but creeped the Tartarus out of me.

With my patient out for at least the next hour, I began cleaning up. The tin with the bloody gore got dumped into the wastebasket along with all the used bandages. I wiped the scalpel off and dropped it into the used equipment bin for a thorough cleaning.

I turned around to make sure I’d finished cleaning up and caught a look at my flank in the full size mirror set in the corner for patients.

“It’ll come when it comes.”

My ears quivered, unable to decide if they wanted to droop at the words or perk up at the voice. “Hello, Nurse.”

I could hear the smile in her voice. “I see you decided to forego the needle and thread today.”

“Not by choice,” I said, looking back at the fresh, pink skin surrounded by blue fur.

I felt Gray’s warmth as she stepped up next to me, touching her wither to mine. “I still don’t understand what you have against them.”

“And I don’t understand why every pony relies on them so readily, it’s not like we have an unlimited supply.” I sighed and shook my head. “Don’t you ever feel like it’s a waste of time? Like we’re just prolonging the inevitable? If he’s not back in a week I’ll give you my allowance for the month.”

Nurse Grays’ lips curled into a small smile as she crossed her neck over mine in an short embrace. “Oh, Lucky, that is what we’re doing. Until somepony finds a better way, it’s all we can do. And I thought you hated gambling.”

I grunted in response and poked the pony on the slab with a hoof. “I just wish I didn’t have to wait for the Med-X to wear off.”

“You don’t,” she said, moving away to sit in the corner. “I’ll be watching him, you have a class with Tracker.”

“Aw, crap. I totally forgot.” Almost jumping to the exit, I pulled up short just inside. “Uh, thanks Nurse. I owe you.”

I ducked through the tent flap stretching my wings and preparing fly to the back of the compound. Fate, and a yellow filly, had other plans. The yelp of surprise escaping my lips was cut short by when I hit the ground, tackled by a blue maned filly.

Hooves attacked my exposed ribs before I had a chance gain my bearings.

The element of surprise is only so useful, however. Especially when your opponent has an extra set of limbs covered in feathers.

“Sssstooopppp!” Aloe cried through her laughter. “Hehehe. I ca- I can’t breathe!”

“Ha ha. I am victorious!” I shouted in the deepest voice I could muster as I jumped back balancing on my hindlegs.

“Y- you cheated. Wh-wings are cheating,” she complained, still trying to catch her breath.

“All's fair in a tickle fight,” I said, sticking out my tongue and dropping back to all fours.

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“Will you two stop it, you’re giving me a headache.” Hurdles said in a voice far deeper than most, already trotting away. “Come on, we’re going to be late enough as it is.”

“You’re no fun.” An idea struck me. If he was so concerned about being late… I flew up and landed on his back, “Forward, trusty steed!”

He stopped and turned to eye me. I smiled back and tapped my hooves on his withers, urging him to keep moving. About to kick his flanks, he bucked hard, launching me off his back. My wings caught air and I hovered above him. Before I could form any remark, Aloe leapt onto his back and wrapped him in her legs, giggling. Hurdles legs tensed as he prepared to repeat the preformace. It took all of a second for his ears to droop in submission to the filly clinging to his back.

I landed next to my friends, turning my head up and away. “I see how it is,” I said haughtily. Sticking my nose higher into the air, I pranced away from the pair. Hurdles groaned before cantering to catch up.

“Race?” the big red pony asked, pulling up beside me.

I looked back at the yellow filly still resting on his back. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“No wings.”

“Works for me. On three. One. Twothree!” I kicked up clods of dirt as I took off, leaving a stunned Hurdles in my dust.

My hooves hit a steady quad-beat as I galloped between the tents. Tracker's camp was near the back of the compound, closer to the wagon bay than the other Watchers. The medical tents were all located right at the gates. It was a good quarter mile between the two as I fly. Unfortunately, I wasn’t flying. I cursed under my rising pant. The heavy pounding of the other pony’s hooves sounded behind me, quickly gaining ground.

I could hear Hurdles heavy breathing as he closed the distance I had stolen. The rhythm of hooves was intoxicating, soothing, and exciting all at the same time. Hitting at counter points our steps were nearly continuous. The moment I left the ground he hit. The moment I hit he took off. The tight spaces between the tents were the only reason that he hadn’t overtaken me.

I exploded into one of the small gathering areas, the only place where he’d be able to pass me by. Curving around the fire pit in the center, I noticed Hurdles counter beat disappearing. A quick glance to the side showed his blue and white tail sliding out of sight between tents. I smiled and poured on the speed, barreling down the clear path. It was over now, he wasn’t even heading in the right direction.

Tents and ponies flashed by in a blur. Jumping over obstacles and turning down paths, I sped to the back of the compound.

I turned the last corner and tripped over my own hooves. Breathing hard, head hanging low, and standing on slightly wobbly legs, the big red stallion managed to smirk at me. The ground rewarded my temporary distraction with a surprise greeting. My rump continued to move forward at good clip as my face and barrel hit the ground. I rolled a few times before skidding to a stop, my muzzle digging a furrow in the dirt.

My eyes fluttered open. They slowly moved up the thick red post planted on the ground in front of me. The image of a white jump fence printed on red fur brought them to a stop. I groaned and rolled to my side. “Maybe next time I’ll let you use your wings,” he said, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Are you okay?” Aloe asked, poking me with a hoof.

I shooed her away with a wing, “Yeah... I just... need to... catch... my breath.”

“Come on buddy.” Hurdles said, helping me get to my hooves and graciously letting me lean on him as we moved to Trackers tent.

The small blue tent stood off by itself against the compound’s back wall. I put a wing to Hurdles chest when we stepped into the opening, bringing him to a stop. With my other wing on my lips, I began to step lightly towards the lone tent. Hurdles and Aloe stayed back, undoubtedly rolling their eyes.

I moved quietly across the open ground, my hooves rolling slightly to help reduce their impact. Each step was careful and deliberate. My breath was slow and controlled, in through my nose out through my mouth. The last paces brought me within hoof’s reach of the opening flap. I held my breath as I prepared to push open the flap.

“Fer a pegasus, yer noiser’n a cat in heat.”

“Hush, Tracker, I’m tryin’ to sneak... up... on... Uhg.” I pressed a hoof into my forehead.

A cracked hoof pushed into my cheek, “Don’ fret it colt, you’re gettin’ better.” The mushy pony looked over his shoulder, “Come on ya’ll, yer late and this lesson’s gonna take awhile.”

I didn’t move as the old ghoul trotted around to the other side of the tent. Aloe and Hurdles snickering as they passed me. Once they stepped around the corner, I finally sighed and moved to follow.

The loose flesh around Trackers lips was pulled tight as he watched the disgusted frowns on my friends’ faces. My eyes followed theirs.

Hanging by hindlegs, their purple scales shimmering in the combined light of the sun and fire, two gecko corpses dangled and swayed. Saliva dripped from the gaping maws filled with yellowed teeth. A bottle cap sized black mark was visible just between their eyes. My gaze immediately flicked over to the fire and the iron pot hanging from the spit, being licked by the flames.

"Uh... you do know that we’re vegetarians... Right?”

“Lucky.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Tracker sighed, “Y’are what ya have ta be ta survive, colt. When ya ain’t eaten for a week you’ll learn jus’ how far yer willin’ ta go fer a meal.” He motioned to the lizards, “When push come ta shove, is not whether it could walk that’ll bother ya. Now, y’all ready to get started?”

“You want us to... cook,” Aloes noise scrunched in disgust, “these... things?”

“Tha’s right darlin’: skin, clean, gut, cook, an’ anythin’ else ah can come up with.”

The normally bright yellow of her face softened to a cream, “I... I think I’ll let the boy’s take care of this one.”

“Hah, why do ya think ther’s only two? Well, come on colts, let’s git to it.”

Tracker hoofed out the tools we’d be using for today’s lesson. Heavy combat knives. I kept my complaints about proper equipment to myself. This was the one thing that he was truly serious about, and complaining wouldn’t do me any good.

Hurdles and I each stepped up to a gecko with blades in hoof. This wasn’t the first time he’d had us skin and prep an animal. It was usually one of the large rats that inhabited the sewers of Dise, though. I made the assumption that at least the skinning would work basically the same.

The first words out of Tracker’s mouth confirmed my theory, and I immediately went to work. Starting at the feet I carefully cut until I hit muscle. The knife was sharp enough to make easy work of the scales, and now that I knew how deep to make the cuts, I sped through the rest of the procedure. Cutting around the front claws for the sleeves. Starting at the tip of the tail I made a nice straight line down its belly to the tip of it’s jaw.

Stepping around to the other side I cradled its head in a wing and held it up for inspection. The black mark turned out to be a perfectly round hole that went at least an inch into its head. It had cauterized instantly, the flesh around the wound bubbling slightly from the intense heat.

My knife went to work cutting around the eyes and fins along the sides of its head. Moving back to the tail, I began peeling the hide away from the fat and muscle underneath. Once I had a good two inches I dropped the blade and took hold of the flap. The skin tore from the creature, the tissue between ripping with surprising ease. The hide peeled off, turning inside out as I pulled, until the last bit separated and fell to the ground, leaving the gecko’s musculature completely exposed to the world.

I looked over at Hurdles as he began pulling the skin off his gecko. His cuts were not nearly as straight. Nor done properly, apparently. I shook my head and smirked as the hide ripped. This was going to be a long day.

++FoE:RB++

Something poked me. I grunted and rolled away. It poked me again. I grunted again, mumbling and burying myself deeper into my pillow. There were hushed whispers followed by blessed quiet. I shifted slightly and began to drift back into my dream.

I should have known better.

A pair of hooves struck the side of my cot, flipping it over and dropping me onto my back. I cried out, cursing as I clutched the my head. Not surprisingly, a pair of snickers joined my groaning.

“Don’t you know what day it is?” Aloe shouted in a hushed whisper, bouncing in place.

“Uhg.” I buried my head under my hooves.

“No, silly, it’s not ‘Uhg’ day. It’s my birthday!”

“Yay,” I said, twirling a hoof in the air. “Happy birthday to Aloe. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Eenope,” Hurdles said, pulling me up by the scruff of my neck.

My hooves dragged across the ground as he carried my limp body out of the tent. A few feet later, I was deposited back on the ground under the clouded night sky. I rolled onto my back and finally opened my eyes, for all the good it did. I blinked up at my friends standing above me.

“Uh, guys... it’s like midnight...” Aloe’s head bobbed violently in response. “This couldn’t wait for, oh I don’t know, sunrise?”

“Eenope.”

“Come on, Luckiiieeee. It’s my birthday, and you two are taking me out to the casinos! Aren’t you excited?” she asked, her face dropping into ‘The Look’. ‘The Look’, where her eyes got really big, her ears drooped down, and her bottom lip began to tremble ever so slightly. I don’t know where she learned it, but no pony with a soul could say no to it.

“Okay. Okay. Fine,” I sighed, “just let me get my—Oof!” a set of saddlebags dropped on my stomach. “Thanks big guy, you’re a real pal.”

“Wouldn’t want ya to accidentally forget your caps.”

“Yes, that’d be just awful, wouldn’t it,” I said, rolling to my hooves. “Celestia forbid I manage to save a few caps this month.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. Who knows, you may win it big tonight,” Hurdles said, a smirk barely visible in the darkness, “You are *snrk* Lucky after all.”

I sighed and laid a foreleg across his shoulder, “Why don’t you leave the puns to me tonight buddy. We wouldn’t want you to trip over yourself.” I swear I heard a light chirping sound in the distance. “You don’t get it do you?”

Hurdles shrugged and Aloe looked up at me with a confused expression. “You were making a joke?”

I frowned and let my leg fall back to the ground. “Nevermind. Let’s get this over with.”

We moved through the forest of tents without really speaking. Aloe was likely too excited about finally dragging us to a casino and thinking about all the things she wanted to do there. Hurdles was probably busy trying to think of some way to impress Aloe. I, however, found myself thoroughly distracted by the single glowing spot in the clouds.

I only knew that the orb of light was the moon because that’s what Nurse Gray and Tracker told me. Tracker, especially, was prone to reminiscing on the beauty of the night sky. To hear him tell it, there was nothing like laying back on a patch of soft grass and gazing up at the stars on a clear night. He claimed to have been able to name all the constellations once, but almost two hundred years had worn the unused memories. For that I envied and pitied him.

I couldn’t decide which fate was worse; to have once had the chance to see the sky unfettered by the ever present cloud cover—I could think of little that I would want more—but to have that taken from you, and to be on the verge of being unable to recall what it was like; or to have the ability to reach out and break through, perfectly capable of flying up into the sky to see it first hoof, but to have that freedom restrained, locked away by forces beyond your control.

The Enclave, an all pegasus military state, controlled everything about the clouds. The story goes that when the war ended the Enclave closed the sky and quarantined themselves from the rest of the world. They send down scouting parties every so often to check on the state of things, but have yet to make any real attempt to help those of us stuck on the ground. Moreover, there are ‘shoot on sight’ orders for any pony seen crossing through the clouds, or so I’d been told.

Dise, and Caledonia in general, also had the ‘honor’ of housing the Remnant. A rebel faction of the Enclave hiding from their former allies. In order to avoid drawing attention to themselves they have a standing altitude limit at just above the average height of a building in Dise. Any pegasus or griffin seen flying higher gets a single warning shot.

“What do you kids want?” A mare called, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to the present.

“We’re going to the casinos!” said Aloe, nearly bouncing out of her coat.

Even in the dim lamplight, I could tell that the two mares were rolling their eyes. “Well, we can’t stop you,” the left one said, “but listen up before you go. You know Dise is not a nice place, so by the Goddesses, stay together. Don’t trust anypony you don’t know and whatever you do, do NOT take credit from anypony, least of all the casinos...” I zoned out. I had no intention of doing anything other than making sure we all got back in the same shape we left. “... to drugs.”

With that the second guard pulled the lock bar for the door, allowing us to exit to the streets of Dise. Aloe led the way with Hurdles following and me taking up the rear.

Here we go.

*************************
Footnote:
Prologue Progress: 66%

Chapter 2-2: A Lucky Watcher

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 2-2: A Lucky Watcher

“Why, exactly, did we come here?”

Dise, the city that never sleeps. The casinos stayed open twenty four hours a day, ready to serve up sin and debauchery to anypony with enough caps. And if you’re broke, well, there’s always some way to work off a debt.

I still find it odd how some clothes could make a pony look more seductive than walking around naked like the rest of us.

As we walked down the boulevard, I found myself eyeing the buildings we passed. Missing walls and collapsed floors were the norm, but the empty, shadowed windows were what gave me the creeps. Half of the structures were so unsound that nopony was willing to go above the first floor. The rest were put to use by whichever gang owned the block.

When my eyes did come down to ground level, a scowl quickly replaced the frown. Ponies leaned against walls with vacant looks of ecstasy on their faces and empty syringes of Med-X scattered at their hooves. Others sprinted out of alleys, Dash inhalers cast aside in their haste. Drug addicts! I forced myself to keep my eyes forward, reminding myself that it was for Aloe and to put a smile on for her.

As we entered the main square, we were immediately surrounded by all kinds and colors of ponies. Well dressed business ponies milled amongst ponies who clearly hadn’t bathed... ever. Prostitutes pulled ponies down alleys for nothing more than a hoof full of caps. Drug dealers dispensed their wares just outside the doors of the casinos. It took effort to keep my teeth from grinding. The only thing not happening in the streets of Dise was gambling. Anypony caught running a game outside a casino wouldn’t live long enough to spend his ill gotten gains.

“So where to first little filly?” I asked in an attempt to distract myself.

“Hey! I’m older than you and I’m not a filly!” she pouted.

“You’ll always be my little filly,” I said, with the biggest stupid grin I could muster.

“I want to go to The Moon,” chimed Hurdles.

“Ew, The Moon is so... gross.”

“I don’t know if you noticed sis, but they’re all gross.”

“Fine then, TO THE MOON!” she shouted, regaining her earlier excitement.

I don’t like casinos. At first I didn’t like them because of my mother. She’d worked at a casino, though I don’t remember which. The casino was where she first injured her wing. The stallion responsible wasn’t so lucky; apparently, damaging casino ‘property’ was frowned upon. The casino was also where she lost most of her wages and picked up her drug addiction. Where everypony else saw flashing lights, excitement, and the chance to strike it rich; I only saw drug addled prostitutes, drunken fools, and ponies throwing their lives away.

It was more than that, though. The lights, the alcohol, the escorts. It’s all a lie. A fancy costume draped over a rotting corpse. They promise the chance to start again, but nopony leaves with more than they brought. For the few who win it’s worse; a pony who wins thinks they can do it again. So they come back, only this time they aren’t so lucky. That loss doesn’t change anything, they won once, and if it happened once it can happen again. So they come back again, and again, until the casino has taken every last cap in their pockets.

Yet there I was, all because a silly filly wanted to get drunk and burn some caps. What I do for my friends.

We stepped through the wooden outer doors of The Moon and into a spacious atrium. Not three pony lengths ahead were another series of much heavier doors painted black except for, what I assumed to be, the phases of the moon painted in an almost incandescent white. Two large unicorns in suits stood on either side of the only door with a full circle.

“Any weapons must be left at the door,” droned the maroon guard. “They will be returned to you when you leave.”

I looked to the two ponies at my left and shrugged. Hurdles stepped forward first, “We don’t have any.”

Standing between them, he let a detection spell wash over him. Satisfied, they allowed him inside. Aloe was next and nearly pranced through the door after the spell finished. I sighed in final resignation and followed last, shivering as the magic passed over me. The door opened and I stepped into The Moon.

Blessed Luna.

It was like stepping onto the moon. Black paint covered the walls and ceiling. The only real lighting was from the lamps hanging directly above the game tables, casting beams of illumination over the games and nothing else. The rest was provided by either the flashing lights of slot machines, or the strings of small lights that hung from the walls and ceiling. The floor was carpeted in a translucent grey that almost seemed to glow in the meager light. The effect was one that didn’t detract from a pony’s ability to see, while still making the entire building appear pitch black.

A waitress walked by with a tray of drinks balanced on her back. Hurdles reached out with a hoof and scooped one up, drinking it in one go. Aloe levitated one as well, though she only sipped at the potent liquid.

I didn’t drink. Even if I did, I knew that somepony had to stay sober, and it obviously wasn’t going to be Hurdles.

“Come on, Lucky, let’s go dancing!” Aloe shouted over the noise.

Before I could say anything, my hoof rose off the floor in a light blue haze. Aloe began dragging me down one of the aisles between rows of slot machines. We trotted past ponies jamming chips into the slots and pulling levers. Lights flashed whether they won or not, rewarding them for their trouble as it took their money. And they were smiling!

We barged through a set of swinging doors and into a headache production center. My already pained ears folded hard against my skull to save themselves from the music blaring out of the pony sized speakers above the stage. A DJ stood under them, spinning turntables and jamming out to the music in her headphones. Aloe turned to face me with a grin that threatened to split her face in two.

“Uhm.. I think I’ll get something to drink... at the bar...” I screamed over the music, pointing at the bar to my left.

Aloe’s gaze followed my hoof; she pouted for a moment. Her lips moved, but I couldn’t make out what she said. I guessed that it was a plea of some kind and shook my head before stepping back. Dancing wasn’t my thing.

She recovered with gusto and grab Hurdles’ leg to drag him to the wooden dance floor that took up most of the room. I watched for a few moments as he stumbled after the yellow mare and allowed myself a small grin; at least they would have a good time tonight.

I made my way to the bar along the side wall and pulled myself up into one of the stools. Ordering a regular apple cider, I turned to watch the dance floor. Hurdles and Aloe were just joining in the press of bodies moving erratically to the ‘music’.

“Well, hello, fly boy. Don’t get too many pegasi around here.”

I grunted in reply to the stranger and kept watching Hurdles try to dance with Aloe. It was almost amusing. If it had been any later in the night I might have thought it was just the alcohol, but as it was, Hurdles probably just couldn’t dance to save his life.

“Those two your friends?” I continued my tactic of ignoring the mare, hoping she would take the hint. “Well they seem to know what to do when you come to The Moon. So, why aren’t you out there having fun with them?”

I finally turned to the mare who was talking at me, intent on telling her off in the cleverest way I could think of. “I...” I froze, unable to process the amount of hot, glowing, pink sitting beside me.

Her eyes widened as they came back up from staring at my haunches, “A blank flank? Oh dear, I understand. Come with Candy, I know just how to make you forget your troubles.” With a hoof wrapped around my neck she dragged me away from the bar and through a side door before I could so much as yelp in shock.

The music disappeared as the sound proof door swung closed. Now, if only somepony would stop ringing that infernal bell.

We were standing in a room filled with a variety of different tables that all shared the same green felt covering. ‘Candy’ quickly pulled me over to the nearest table, depositing me directly across from a pony wearing an odd green brim on his brow.

“This colt needs some fun. Give him a hundred chips on my tab will ya, Turner.” She turned back to me as the dealer placed a pile of colored clay chips on the table in front of me. “You’re here to have fun, hon. So, have some fun.”

I looked down at the stack of pink chips now sitting in front of me, then back at Candy. I paused, letting my eyes reprocess the pink. Coming up with a snarky way to get rid of her, my response never made it out; apparently I am a sucker for pouty lips. I sighed, at least it wasn’t my money.

I turned my attention to the table in front of me. Most of the table seemed to be covered in a chart of numbers. Listed from one to thirty six, each number was on a red or black dot. Besides those, there were boxes labeled ‘Odds’, ‘Evens’, 1 - 12’, ‘25 - 36’, and zero and double zero. On the far left side of the table was a fancy looking wheel and axle. I had no idea what to do. A quick glance at the other ponies sitting around me didn’t offer any help.

Separating the stack into ten piles, I pushed them randomly on to different boxes without really paying much attention. The last ten chips I placed on seven. Stupid, I know, but you have to play your numbers, right? The dealer, Candy, and the other ponies all looked at me like I was an idiot. Honestly, I felt like one. I had never gambled before in my life, and I didn’t understand this game at all.

The dealer reached towards the wheel at the left side of the table. The dark brown wood was polished to a shine under the spotlight hanging over head. The axle stuck a good two hooves into the air with four short fretts tipped with brass knobs at the top. Black and red squares were painted around the wide base with large numbers printed on them. Two squares, however, were green, one with a zero and the other with two zeros. The dealer’s hoof hit one of the four spokes, sending the wheel spinning. With the wheel spinning the dealer pressed a button. A flurry of activity erupted from the other ponies at the table as a white ball began to spin and bounce counter to the wheel. Piles of chips were pushed all over the board as the players began to place their bets, and I realized my mistake.

The ball sped around the wheel with every eye locked on it. The wheel slowed, the ball began to descend from the top rim as it lost momentum. It hit the first space and bounced once, twice, thrice, and stopped. The wheel slowed. Seven.

“Hey, look at you,” Candy said, patting my withers. “You must be lucky.”

“Yes, I am.”

She looked at me dumbly, not getting the joke.

The dealer collected all the losing bets before pushing a small pile of chips towards me. “Your winnings, sir.”

I looked at the stacks and then back at the dealer, “Really? But that’s… that’s a lot.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The odds on single numbers are thirty-five to one, hon.”

“That’s three hundred sixty chips? I just won three hundred sixty chips?” I took a breath to steady myself before reaching for my chips.

A pink hoof stopped me, “Minus my cut. It was my seed money after all.”

All told I came away from a single spin of roulette with a hundred free chips.

I immediately stepped away from the table. I’m not the smartest pony, but even I know not to press my luck. If I did the same thing again I could be out of chips on a single spin. As I backed away, a pink hoof wrapped around my neck and Candy began dragging me through the crowd of ponies to the another table despite my protests. She was stronger than she looked.

The first place Candy brought me was a blackjack table. Candy let me watch a few rounds play before shoving me up to the table and forcing me to take a seat. She stood a pace back, her muzzle hovering next to my ear as she draped herself over my back and rested her head on my wither.

No stranger to the affections of other ponies, I still had to focus elsewhere to keep my body from responding to her close presence, especially when she started petting my wings.

I placed five chips on the table in front of me and the dealer began passing out the cards. One faced down and one faced up. The Queen of Spades and, I tilted the card up with my wing, the Ace of Spades.

“Twenty one!” Candy said, flipping the card over with her magic.

“Winner winner, pumpkin dinner,” the dealer said, not nearly as excited.

The cards favored me, heavily. I didn’t win every round, but I won enough. After reaching a thousand chips I began to get nervous. Two rather large earth ponies were paying a little too much attention to me as I collected winnings after winnings. I decided I’d had enough blackjack for the day.

Collecting my winnings, I started to turn away. Candy stopped me and nodded toward the dealer. I shrugged in confusion and she let out an exasperated sigh. Grabbing about fifty caps worth of chips in her magic, she dropped passed them to the dealer.

As was the theme for the evening, Candy began shoving me to the next table before I could so much as attempt to protest. She escorted me, bodily, to the next table: craps.

Candy tried to explain the rules for the dice game, but I more or less ignored her. When she decided that I understood enough to play she pushed me up to the bowl of a table and resumed her own position, her moist breath playing on my cheek.

The dealer pushed the dice toward me, and I picked them up. My hoof tingled where it touched the glossy red cubes. I don’t think I could ever explain it properly. It was like a finding something I had lost a long time ago. I rubbed them between my hooves feeling their texture and pips on my frogs.

Every eye was focused on me, and putting a hundred chips on Pass, I tossed the dice.

Eleven. Win.

Seven. Win.

Ten. Ten. Win.

Four. Seven. Loss.

Seven. Win. Roll after roll the dice fell. Roll after roll I won. I lost some sure, but not nearly as much as I won.

I was about to roll the dice again when Candy nipped my ear. I jerked away and glared at her. She wore the stupidest grin on her face and pointed down toward my flank.

I looked down.

++FoE:RB++

A vice tightened its grip on my head. I lapped at the cotton sensation in my mouth and rolled over.

WHAM!

I gripped my face, whining pathetically. Damn floors need to learn to be softer. I tried, and failed, to open my eyes. Why did my head hurt so much? Reaching up to the bed I started blindly trying to pull myself back in.

WHAM!

I cursed and flailed at the weight on my chest. Somepony landed on top of me knocking the wind from my lungs. Legs wrapped themselves around me and a head nuzzle against my cheek.

“Mmmmm, I don’t think I can go again so soon, hon.”

‘Oh, that’s nice, can you get off of... wait what?’

I jumped to my hooves, throwing the other pony to the floor. That was a terrible idea. The world spun, all the blood fleeing my head. I tilted to the right, my hooves struggling to stay under me. Left begame up, up became down, and everything else was backward until I hit a wall. Dust and dirt fell from the ceiling making me sneeze. Using the wall as support, I steadied myself, and brought one hoof to shade my eyes as I tried to open them again.

Cringing against the burning light, it took me a few tries to keep my eyes open. Just like the rest of the casino, the walls were painted black; even the windows were painted over, though daylight was trying to push its way through cracks in the paint. The carpet under me might have been clean, but the bits of fluff that came up at each step left my hooves feeling dirty. Paint flakes rubbed into my side from the wall as I tried to gain my balance.

With a groan I reached up a wing to remove the vice pressing against the sides of my head, only to rub at my naked temple.

“Wh-what happened last night?” My mouth felt dryer than the desert.

“Hmmmm, that hurts my pride, hon.”

That insufferable pink mare was laying on the floor where I’d deposited her, wrapping the bed sheets around herself. She was a complete mess. And pink, so very pink it hurt. I rubbed my eyes and blinked. Pink mane, pink tail, pink coat, and a barely visible pink lollipop Cutie Mark. When I finally tore my eyes away everything in the room took on a greenish tint.

I tried to focus on what I could remember. Bar, roulette, blackjack, craps, Cutie Mark... Cutie Mark! I twisted around much too fast and my vision swam, but there it was. I had my Cutie Mark! My rump hit the floor.

Two red dice! DICE! It was official, the world hated me. I glared at the image on my flank. Seven white pips stared back, mocking me. This had to be a joke. I scrubbed at them with my wings.

“ARG!” Oh, my head!

Dragging myself back across the floor, I poked Candy in the stomach. She grunted. I poked her again, harder. She mumbled something and swatted at my hoof. I snorted in frustration. When I put my muzzle to her ear. She giggled a little.

“WAKE UP!”

She shot up gripping her ear in a hoof, and I grabbed my entire head as the pounding returned in force. I was oh for three on smart choices and the day was only getting started. Great. Once the pounding began to subside, I looked up to see her glaring at me through bloodshot eyes.

“Damn it, Lucky, what?”

“What happened last night? The last thing I remember is getting my Cutie Mark.”

She looked at me dumbly. “Really?”

When I nodded a smile began to creep across her lips. As it spread she began to shake. A hoof went to her lips to stifle a laugh. That only lasted a second before she fell over in a fit of laughter despite the pain it caused both of us.

I just watched as she slowly brought herself under control wiping tears from her eyes.

“That bad?”

I tried to hide behind my hooves as she regaled me with my drunken adventures from the night before. Apparently, after seeing my Cutie Mark, I decide it would be a good idea to start drinking to celebrate. After that I decided that everypony needed to know, so I got on stage and once up there, instead of saying my peace, I started to entertain the crowd with a song... and dance. Hurdles managed to drag me off before I started my encore. The next few hours consisted of gambling, drinking and...

“I did not!”

“Oh yes, yes you did. Right there, in front of everypony. A big wet drunken kiss, lasted a good minute, I timed it. Had it been any other stallion you would’ve been nothing but a smear on the carpet. Then I dragged you up here and well, you really know how to show a mare a good time.” She winked.

“How much did I drink?”

“Two whiskies.”

“Two bottles of whisky!”

“No, two shots. Sorry, hon, but you're a bonafide light weight.”

“Oh Goddesses.” I wrapped my legs around my stomach as a wave of nausea washed over me. “I need to go home.”

“Are you sure, hon?” Her hoof smoothed my mane. “We could pick up where we left off last night.”

I pushed her hoof away and stood. The dizziness almost dropped me again, but I managed to stay up. “No. I-I need to go.”

I looked around the room and spotted my saddlebags sitting on the floor at the hoof of the bed. Unsteadily, I made my way over and started to strap them on. ‘Okay, find Aloe and Hurdles and, if necessary, drag them out. Then to home and bed.’ My stomach rumbled, ‘Okay, food first, bed second.’

“Before you go, can I ask one question?”

I sighed and leaned against the door frame. “What?”

“What’s so important about that doll?”

I touched the figurine still hanging around my neck. “It was a gift, from somepony I lost a long time ago.”

With that, I stepped into the hallway, leaving the pink unicorn to do whatever she was going to do. Like everything else in this Godess forsaken place, the walls were black and the floor was white with strings of lights hanging loosely from the ceiling.

I looked left. I looked right. Tartarus take this place.

I turned to the right and began trotting.

I turned around, retracing my steps until I found the stairs down. The steps led to the bar and dance floor from the night before, now with significantly fewer ponies and more sedated music playing. Apparently they didn’t maintain a constant level of activity.

“Lucky?”

I faced the soft voice, a smile spreading on my lips. “Aloe, oh good. Are you ready to leave?” The small yellow unicorn nodded, the large red pony next to her barely seemed to be able to stand. “Come on you two, it’s time to go home.”

The doors gave way to the still populated lobby. Everything seemed to be the same as when we arrived. Night and day had no meaning in the darkness of The Moon. The bells and lights of the slot machines still rang and flashed the same as they had the night before. The casinos never slept.

The three of us stopped at the change counter. Rather, I stepped up to the change counter, Aloe and Hurdles stayed a few paces back. Iron bars separated me from the unicorn on the other side. I passed my bag of chips through the slot and waited for her to count out my caps.

“Are those two with you?” she asked, pointing to my friends.

I glanced back for a moment, “Yes, is that a problem?”

Without another word she slid a slip of paper to me.

Holding it up I scanned the bill.

“They spent HOW MUCH?!” I yelled much too loudly, causing both my friends and myself to cringe.

The cashier nodded. I looked at it, then at my ‘friends’ and ended on the bag of chips which was already out of reach. I sighed in resignation, knowing that I couldn’t just leave them to pay their own way. At least they enjoyed themselves.

“Is that enough?” I asked.

She emptied the bag into some kind of sorting and counting machine. It took a little bit of time for it to finish and spit out a receipt. The cashier scanned the slip of paper, looked at the bill, then bent down and pulled out a small bag. She pushed this new bag under the bars to me. I looked into the small sack and chuckled lightly. One hundred caps. Irony. I dropped the bag of caps into my saddle bags.

The trip back was slow and painful. The light from the sky didn’t help my hangover at all. Fortunately, none of us seemed to be up to talking, too busy regretting our choices. I don’t know how much they remembered about last night, but I was sure that I didn’t want to remember any of what I had been told. I can’t imagine they were any better off. When we finally got to the compound the guards let us in without word or question, though not without a little snickering and some outright laughter.

Once inside we each went our separate ways. None of us wanted to have to think about the night we had just had. I don’t know where they went, but I went straight to the mess tent. I took as much food and water as they would let me, which was not nearly enough. After that I went to my tent, threw my saddlebags on the floor, flipped my still knocked over bed upright, and flopped down on the mattress to try and sleep away the rest of my hangover.

That worked about as well as could be expected. When I finally gave up I sat on the edge of my bed holding my head in my hooves. I happened to look up to see something odd on the ground next to my saddlebags. Curiosity got the better of me, I half stepped, half fell, over to look at it. It seemed like an odd piece of armour at first, a shin guard maybe. I picked it up in my hooves and turned it over. The other side housed a glass plate, three orange buttons, and a dial.

“Lucky! I’m surprised you’re awake!”

I cringed back from the loud voice stabbing into my brain. Gray stood at the entrance to my tent wearing a smile that split her face in two. Her smile turned from mirth to pity as she walked over and pulled me into a hug.

“Oh, you poor stallion, you,” she whispered softly. “Still got a little hangover?”

“Uh hu.”

“That’s what you get for celebrating without me.” She gasped. “And getting your Cutie Mark and not even telling me.” She chided and pulled back, holding me at legs length, “Oh, my little Lucky, all grown up. It seems like just yesterday you were knee high to a Molerat.” I stared at the ground as my cheeks reddened. I could talk to any other mare just fine, but whenever Gray was around my brain seemed to seize up. “What’s that? Is that a... Lucky, where did you get that?” she asked, pointing at the shin guard.

“I-I’m not sure,” I stuttered still feeling like a foal. “It was in my bags. I must‘ve picked it up sometime last night, but I don’t remember.”

“Do you even know what that is?” I shook my head, turning it over in my hooves. “It’s a Pipbuck. I’ve only ever seen one before.”

“So, what is it?”

“I’m not sure... She never told me, a computer of some kind. Are you going to put it on?”

“I guess.” I shrugged.

Putting the screen half on top of my left leg I held it down with my muzzle and pushed the bottom half up with my other hoof. The two halves came together with a definitive ‘Click’. It hissed slightly as it tightened onto my leg.

That’s where things got weird. I gasped as I felt a hundred little pin pricks pierce my skin. A cold sensation, not unlike an I.V. drip, ran up my leg and through the rest of my body. It hit my eyes and everything went dark. When It came back my vision was filled with amber bars and lines. Words started to type out across my vision.

Congratulations on receiving your Pipbuck 3000 series by Stable-Tec. For any inquiries about the functions for your new Pipbuck please reference your owner's manual.

I started to hyperventilate and Nurse Gray took my head in her hooves. “Lucky? Lucky are you okay?” She held my head, forcing me to look into her eyes. “Calm down, Lucky, deep breaths.” I closed my eyes and took a few calming breaths. My heart rate slowly dropped back to normal and I opened my eyes again. The images still floated in my vision, and I reached out my hoof to swipe them away to no avail. Just at the bottom center of my sight was a compass, to the left of that a long cluster of bars that read GH, and to the right a similar cluster that read SP. I blinked to try and clear my vision. When my eyes were closed it all went away, but it came right back as I reopened them. I looked up at the mare holding my head and ‘Nurse Gray’ popped up just above the compass. She smiled at me. “Lucky?”

I managed a weak smile before I slumped forward.

*************************
Footnote:
Prologue Progress: 100%

Level 1 Achieved

Character Info:
Name: Lucky Sevens
Race: Pegasus
Abilities:
1. Cloud Manipulation: Pegasi are all born with the ability walk on and manipulate ‘cloud stuff’.
2. Flight: Pegasi with two working wings who are unencumbered are able to fly at the same speed at which they walk.

General Description: Your fur is the same green color as a gaming table. Your mane and tail are mostly white with red stripes running through them. You aren’t as tough as some ponies, but you make up for it by being more likeable.

Stable-Tec Vig-O-Matic resutls:
S: 5
P: 5
E: 4
C: 6
I: 5
A: 5
L: 10

Tagged Skills:
Survival, Speech, Medicine

Cutie Mark: Pair of red casino dice showing four and three pips

Traits:
Jack of All /Master of None: Aren’t you something? You can do anything you put your mind to with ease. (Each skill point you spend adds two points to a skill). Your ability to advance seems to level off after a while (Once a skill reaches 60 you will gain one for one). And the further you advance the harder things become (After a skill reaches 80 each skill point you spend on it only adds .5 to the skill). Even as you struggle to get better you know you are reaching for a glass ceiling (No skill can be raised above 95).

D.A.R.E.: Personal experiences and a family history have taught you to hate drugs. You are more susceptible to addiction and can even become addicted to things like healing potions and Rad-X. Because of this you would rather suffer through broken bones than take any drugs (hope you like scars). On the flip side your body lacks any resistance to these chemicals so when you do take them their effects are 20% more potent and last 20% longer.

Special Equipment:
1. Ministry Mare Statuette: Rainbow Dash: You have an Awesome Rainbow Dash Ministry Mare Doll. You don’t know what it actually does, but you definitely feel 20% cooler just carrying it around.

PipBuck 3k series: Congratulations on your brand new PipBuck. Now if only you knew how to use it.

Author's Note

Special thanks to my editors and pre-readers: Doomande and Amenthyst Wind

Act 1 - Exit Stage West

Fallout: Equestria - Rolling Bones
Act 1 - Exit Stage West

By: Count Honigwein von Beinehaus

Art by Piecee01

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is owned by Hasbro Entertainment
Fallout is owned by Bethesda Studios

Chapter 3-1: Baggage

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 3-1: Baggage

“You say that like you have a choice.”

I let my head rest against the rough stone crenulation, limbs dangling over either side, high atop the fort’s wall.

Turning my head away from the early evening sun, I looked out over the fort. Most of the yard was taken up by a mass of nearly identical white or blue tents staked in even rows, broken up by the occasional clearing, where ponies could gather in small groups. There were only three places that ignored the pattern.

Just inside the front gate was a large pathway that led to the Wagon Depot at the back. Taking up about an eighth of the fort, the Wagon Depot was where old train cars were brought in to be converted into the more versatile wagons that were used for caravans. Immediately to the left of the gate was the large mess tent that could fit about a third of the Watchers at a time. Most of the other tents positioned on either side of the entrance road were designated for the majority of the medical work that was done.

I watched the ponies below as they flittered between the tents. At first it looked completely random, like everypony was moving without rhyme or reason. Eventually, however, I noticed that they were beginning to pool near front gates where a quick built stage had been set up recently. I wondered idly about that for all of five seconds before shrugging it off.

Wiggling deeper into the crenellation, I put my forehooves behind my head and made myself comfortable. The colored lines that had been cluttering my vision since the day I snapped the PipBuck to my leg disappeared as my eyelids slid closed. I was left with the quiet warmth of the afternoon sun as a cool breeze slipped through my feathers. Nap time.

Easily my favorite spot in the entire fort, the parapet gave me the one thing I couldn’t seem to get anywhere else: privacy. Sometimes, that could be the most precious commodity. Three flights of narrow stairs ensured I wouldn’t be bothered unless absolutely necessary. The downside was, of course, that everypony knew exactly where to find me.

“Luuuckyyy!”

Aloe… if there was one pony who could ruin a perfectly good nap.

I let my head flop to the side and gave her a smile. Hurdles was there too, which shouldn’t have surprised me. “Lucky isn’t home right now,” I called down to the pair at ground level, “please leave a message after the beep.”

“Really? You’re no—”

“Beep.”

Hurdles snorted. “Oh come off it, Lucky, and get down here. We’re going to be late for the meeting.”

Oh yeah, that’s what everypony was up to. I flipped a wing dismissively and turned away from my friends, staring up at the clouds.

“Everypony’s supposed to be there. You’re going to get in trouble… again.”

“If he wants be an ass, let him, we need to get back before we’re late too.”

“But…” Aloe whinnied and stamped a hoof.

I could feel her eyes trying to bore into the side of my head, a pair of blue tinted needles pricking at my scalp. The sweat on my brow had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. She broke first—thank the goddesses—eventually agreeing with Hurdles and leading them away.

Almost cheering in triumph, I managed to restrain myself to a smile as I relaxed, sinking deeper into my little nook.

The entire thing was a bad joke that had gotten out of hoof. Who in their right mind would want to travel through the wasteland for months on end? Not I, thank you very much. Dise might not have been the greatest place to live, but it sure as shit beat out a raider’s cook pot.

Yawning and stretching, I pushed the thoughts away and focused on the sun’s warmth against my coat. It really was a nice day for a nap.

A glorious twenty minutes of napping came to a sudden, and sodden, end when I was doused by a bucket of water.

Sputtering, spitting, and gasping, I managed to fall onto the walkway, instead of the open air.

Cursing, I wiped my mane from my eyes, parting the red and white hairs to reveal the pony responsible. I’m not sure what I expected, but I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Tracker. His lack of humor at that moment was sort of ironic, but not entirely unsurprising—my cursing probably didn’t help.

“Jus’ where are ya suppose’ ta be, colt?”

I stood, wiping the water from my muzzle. The meeting going on behind me tugged too strongly, and I couldn’t keep myself from glancing over my wither, all but admitting to Tracker that I knew exactly what he was talking about and dooming any attempt to feign ignorance.

Shit.

++Fo:E-RB++

Tracker wasn’t livid, but he wasn’t happy either. He paced inside my tent while I sat as contritely as I could on my bed and waited. I did my best not to watch him, mostly because I didn’t want to get dizzy. Any time I tried to speak, I would barely get a single syllable out before Tracker’s baleful gaze locked onto mine; I wisely kept quiet.

Instead, I let my eyes and mind wander. Which was really boring because there was nothing for me to look at. The only poster I had stuck to the wall was old and faded; a profile of Dash, flight goggles propped above her eyes, looking out into the distance. That held my attention for all of a minute. The ground and ceiling were equally boring. A book sat on the table near the entrance, an incomplete copy of Tales of a Junktown Horseshoe Vendor, half of its pages lost before I’d even gotten it.

My eyes drifted back to Tracker for a moment before I tore them away.

Without really thinking about it, I lifted Dash from around my neck and held her up. She looked amazing, especially given the years and my not entirely careful treatment of her. It was kind of surprising to realize. I’d had her for nearly a decade and a half without her suffering even the most minor of scratches or loss of hair. Odd that.

I let Dash drop, her reassuring weight returning to my chest.

I still didn’t understand the issue. So I’d willfully avoided going to some useless meeting about something that I didn’t care about and had nothing at all to do with me. It wasn't like I'd never done the same thing a hundred times before. I was about to get my answer.

A second set of hoof beats joined Tracker’s, quickly followed by two more. I looked up in time to see Gray push into the tent, agitation written large across her face, with Aloe and Hurdles fast on her tail. My impromptu smile withered in the face of Gray’s angry glare, and I swallowed hard as I realized that I might have screwed up more than I thought. A quick glance at my friends didn’t help to set me at ease; Aloe looked downright distraught, almost frightened, while Hurdles was pleased as punch, which could only mean one thing: I was in deep shit.

At least Tracker had stopped pacing.

“Lucky…”

I glanced up when Gray’s voice faltered. Her burning gaze smoldered through the tears blurring her soft grey eyes, her left ear drooping, quivering slightly. Then she was gone, galloping out of the tent, a streak of grey, disappearing before anypony could so much as blink.

“Nurse?” I called out, far too late and too weakly to even hope for her to have heard. Looking between my remaining friends, I found my voice. “Is somepony going to tell me what in Tartarus is going on?”

++Fo:E-RB++

Pacing: a sign of useless resistance to events that have already spread beyond the hope of control. When a pony has all the energy to move a mountain but lacks the mountain, they pace. They’ll pace until they wear out themselves or the ground, whichever comes first.

Nurse Gray had just got a good pace going when she spotted Aloe and Hurdles. The worried expression she’d been wearing raced straight through relieved, past surprised, and came to a full stop at severely annoyed.

The wide road leading to the gate already contained almost everypony who didn’t have duties to see to or otherwise couldn’t attend the meeting. They converged at the back, just before the wagon depot where a temporary stage had been set up the night before.

Veering expertly through ponies, Gray ignored them as she fought her way upstream, making as much of a beeline as she was able toward the pair of younger ponies. “Please tell me you found him.”

“Oh, we found him alright,” Hurdles groused, “for all the good it did us. I don’t see why you’re so worried. It’s not like he actually needs to be here.”

Gray didn’t bother to correct him. “Where is he?”

Hurdles shrugged. “Where he always is when he’s supposed to be somewhere else.”

Nurse Gray groaned, pinching her muzzle with a fetlock and barely suppressing the desire to curse. “Great. Fine, thank you for trying. Go ahead and join everypony else.”

Aloe looked like she wanted to add something, but Hurdles was already moving with the flow and calling after her. Sighing, she trotted off to catch the large red pony.

Gary glanced around at the assembly. Unicorns and Earth Ponies all, it was like somepony had scattered a tub of sprinkles all over the place; it didn’t take her long to spot the only chocolate sprinkle. It helped that he was standing off by himself near the edge of the road.

Without another thought for the two younger ponies, Gray took off at a brisk trot. She skirted the conglomeration until she had a straight shot to the only ghoul in camp. He noticed her approach quickly and matched her expression as best his face would allow, loose flesh notwithstanding. Without even making it within speaking distance, the two nodded at each other knowingly and Tracker turned to leave, reaching a canter as he disappeared between the surrounding tents.

“Lucky?”

With a long suffering smile, Gray turned to face Echo. Average height for a stallion, Echo had a grey coat similar to her’s and a short cropped black mane. Living and working in such close proximity, they shared a companionable relationship, though calling them friends might have been a bit of a stretch.

“Who else?”

“He’s not a colt anymore,” Echo said as they both turned and joined the crowd. “It’s time he started acting like it, and if you keep coddling him he’ll never have a reason to grow up.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken. He’s just mature in all the wrong ways.”

“He’s lazy and—”

“And too clever by half, I know. When you can actually get him to focus on something, however, he’s better in five minutes then some who’ve spent years trying to learn it. You know full well why he is the way he is.”

“You’re completely right. I have an idea, let’s actually put his mark to use—”

Gray rounded on the stallion, bringing him to a quick stop with their noses touching and horns crossed. Despite being a good hoof and a half taller, Echo couldn’t shake the feeling that she was glaring down at him. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. He is my responsibility, not your’s. I won’t listen to your asinine suggestions.”

“I don’t see what donkeys have to do with anything.”

The mare growled, spinning around and smacking him with her tail before storming off through the herd and leaving Echo in her wake.

“Touchy, touchy,” Echo mumbled, shaking his head as he brushed off the less than courteous dismissal. At least now he understood that saying about a mother bear and her cub.

Pushing his way to the front, Echo took up a position where he was sure to be noticed by everypony. He’d be one of the first to thank and congratulate those who were going, and he’d make sure that he was seen doing so. Not that he cared, but it was important to keep up appearances.

He envied Lucky on that point. It would be nice to just shrug off his responsibilities and go do… whatever it was Lucky did with most of his time. Probably searching for his next break-up partner. If it weren’t for the hours, admittedly few, that he put in the First-Aid tents—and Gray’s efforts on his behalf—the colt would’ve been thrown out on his ass years ago. Echo had forced the issue a few times, to no avail. Gray couldn’t protect him forever though, and Echo looked forward to the inevitable day when he finally went just a little too far.

“Achoo!”

Echo recoiled from the nasal exspolsion, grimacing at the pony beside him.

Doctor Humors, one of the few ponies above Echo himself, and the last he wanted to deal with. Echo silently cursed, a stern reprimand for his obliviousness. If he’d been paying more attention he wouldn’t have chosen that spot, but for him to move now would be too obvious an insult, no matter the sneeze.

Managing to push out a grudging wish of good health, Echo was saved from listening to the wind bag by Caps Worth stepping up to the raised podium and clearing his throat.

Caps Worth smiled genuinely over the crowd, confidence oozing from his mustard face.

“We, The Watchers, have always put the needs of our fellow ponies before our own. We are tasked with the heavy burden of withering the weight of those who can not carry their own. We know in our hearts that this is the way that all ponies should act, were meant to act. So we lead the way, showing the way through actions instead of mere words.

“From the beginning we have worked within the NCA, partners rising out of the ashes of the world left to us by our ancestors. It has been a good relationship. We have been given unparalleled support and co-operation in our mission. Every city and town that flies the NCA’s banner is home to a chapter of Watchers. In return we assist the NCA in anyway that we can. The Goddesses willing, that will never change.

“One thing will change, however. For the first time since our founding, we will be stepping outside the NCA’s reach and protection. Our purpose, our calling, is to help all ponies; not just those who submit to the NCA’s rule. To cower behind The Great Bear’s protection while others suffer unaided is anathema to us, and it ends now. In two days time we will be embarking on the first expedition out beyond the NCA’s boards, reaching out to those who truly need our assistance. We will bring the Truth of our cause to them in a way that the NCA never could, with open hearts and helping hooves.”

Echo joined in the spontanious applause, clicking his hooves on the ground and rolling his eyes at the delighted expression on the merchant's face. Eventually, Caps Worth raised a hoof and brought the crowd back under control. His horn lit up to produce a scroll.

“Many of you volunteered to be a part of this expedition. Unfortunately, there is a limit on who and how many we came take. When I call your name, please join me here on the stage and be recognized. Dr. Humors…”

Echo joined in the requisite stomping as Caps Worth worked through the list of foals, he even managed to keep from rolling his eyes—most of the time. They all looked so pleased with themselves. They’d be lucky to survive a week.

“... Hurdles…”

The young stallion whooped in excitement, nearly prancing to join the growing line upon the stage, the foal.

It wasn’t that Echo wished them any ill will. Quite to the contrary, they’d better make it back safe and sound, or at least with all the wagons in tow. The amount of resources they were throwing at this little project baffled him. Two water talismans, three fully equipped box-cars, and more than twenty ponies. They weren’t so well to do as to write that kind of expenditure off.

“... Rose Blossom…”

Besides, he knew everyone of them on some level. Some of them were even friends, like Rose and Lucky… Lucky?

Echo frowned, dropping out of his thoughts and back to the present. He looked questioningly up at Caps Worth.

“Lucky Sevens,” The caravan’s leader called again. “Has anypony seen Lucky?”

Echo’s lips parted slowly at first, a slight shiver running up his hindlegs, across his back until it found release from his mouth. The sounds that escaped his lips bore all the resemblance to a laugh that a punch would to a hoofshake.

++Fo:E-RB++

I lay on my cot, belly up, wings hanging over the edges, staring blankly up at the ceiling of my tent. The others were probably waiting for me to respond in some way. I could imagine Aloe’s worried expression, complete with limp ears and tucked tail wrapped around her hindleg, and Hurdles’ uncertain one, left ear forward while the right twitched erratically. Tracker was different of course. His milky eyes, ratty ears, and loose flesh were far less expressive than a non-ghoul pony’s. He was probably a little concerned, but that didn’t mean much; he was always concerned about me for some reason, like I’d ever given him a reason to doubt my ability to come out on top.

I glanced at the ponies around me and couldn’t suppress the smirk: nailed it.

“Lucky?” Aloe asked tentatively. “Are you okay?”

I gave her as genuine a smile as I could fake. “Yep, never better.”

Tracker clocked the top of my head. “Stop being an ass.”

After rubbing the offended spot with a wing, I did the only thing that seemed appropriate; I made fart sounds.

Tracker was less than amused, but I was ready for his second swing and dodged it easily by rolling forward and sitting up out of his reach.

“You’re no fun.”

Hurdles snorted. “Can’t you take anything seriously for even a few seconds?”

“Yes,” I said, schooling my face and giving Hurdles a flat look while silently counting to five. Then I blew a raspberry at him. “There, happy?”

“What are you, five?”

“Nope, I’m Sevens!”

“Screw you, Lucky!”

“I’m not really in the mood right now, maybe later.”

“Aaaaarrrrggggh!”

“No, no no, it’s ‘Aaaauuuggghhhh’!”

With that Hurdles stormed out of the tent, his tail lashing in agitation and muttering to himself. I was pretty pleased with myself, it was a new record after all. For a brief moment, I wondered if it was such a good idea to keep pushing his buttons like that, then I remember the look on his face and chuckled. He’d be fine in a few minutes and I’d find a way to make it up to him soon enough. I’d have plenty of time once we left…

I flopped back onto the cot, resuming my previous position and grunting, that thought had killed the mood right quick. Realizing I’d just thought in a Trackerism didn’t help either.

“Lucky?”

“Yes, Aloe?” I asked, holding Dash over my head to study for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dash dropped back to my chest, and I glanced around, hoping to find something other than her to focus on. I was surprised to note that Tracker had disappeared, the old goat could be damn sneaky when he wanted. “Where did Tracker go?”

“Stop deflecting!”

“I’ll try, but I’m pretty sure that the physics won’t cooperate, I hear its laws are pretty strict.”

A yellow hoof touched my wither and my eyes followed it up to Aloe’s face. I silently cursed my own body’s reflexes. Her eyes were so big, giant pools of concern and worry; I didn’t stand a chance. “Talk to me.”

“About what? About how my future has been decided for me? About how I wasn’t even asked or given a chance to argue it? About how I’m being kicked out of my home? How about how I’m being sent out into a part of the wasteland so dangerous that nopony knows what’s out there? Or, I know, let’s talk about how many different ways I could die in the next months until we get back, if we’re lu—” I bit off the last bit, stopping myself too late and waiting for her to make the comment.

To my eternal gratitude, she didn’t say it, instead moving her hoof to my cheek, then my mane, pushing the hairs out of my face. “I’d rather not dwell on some of that, but if it’s what you need to talk about…”

“I don’t need to talk about any of it. It’s not like talking will change anything.”

“Says the pony who talked other ponies into doing his chores on five different occasions.”

“Three. Hurdles doesn’t count.”

Aloe had to stifle her giggles. “That’s not very nice.”

“Here’s some free advice, never try to talk Clean Cutt out of something, it won’t end well.”

“Who said you need to talk to him? Caps Worth is the lead.”

I had to think about that for a minute. Caps Worth wasn’t well known to me, our prefered activities never overlapping much. He always came across as sensible the few times we’d interacted, bought into the Watcher’s propaganda a little too much, but so had Aloe and Hurdles, and they were alright. Could I convince him that he didn’t want me to come along? It probably wouldn’t be too hard; a strategic demonstration of ineptitude would do the trick. There was one question that still bothered me, however.

“Why in Tartarus do they want me along in the first place?”

“Your stunning good looks?”

“My winning personality?”

“Your superior intellect?”

“My undeniable awesomeness?”

“Don’t forget radicalness and coolness.”

“Hehe, yeah, I guess I can see why they’d want me. Now I just need to think of some way to convince them that they’re wrong.”

Aloe ruffled my mane. “Come on, mister greatest thing ever, plotting world domination is easier on a full stomach.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Aloe smiled and winked conspiratorially, turning and heading out of the tent. I would have chuckled at that, but I remembered the last time she gave me that look and the month long prank war that followed.

++Fo:E-RB++

Dinner was filling if less than impressive, creamed corn with a dandelion salad and some meager apples. We met Hurdles at the tent and I apologized for how I’d been treating him all day, not so much because I felt bad, but because Aloe made it very apparent that I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

After getting our food and taking our seats, we successfully avoided the unpleasant topic, instead focusing on the little things, Aloe groused about her work—both with magic and overcoming her aversion to blood—and Hurdles shared gossip with the other workhorses in between boasting about his most recent feats of strength, while I peppered the conversation with witty comments that always managed to make at least one of them snicker. It was… nice.

The sun was near the horizon by the time we left, painting the clouds orange fading into violet. My friends said their farewells, everypony was going to be busy for the next few days, and we each went our separate ways back to our respective tents. There was a bit of chill to the air, but the cold had never really bothered me much—yay for pegasi—so while everypony else scurried about with an extra little hitch in their giddy-up, I strolled lazily enough to realize that I’d just used the term hitch in their giddy-up and resolved that, if nothing else, a few months away from Tracker would not be such a bad thing.

I found my tent much as I’d left it, a pentagon-ish shape, blue on the outside and dark on the inside, the mage-lamp having not been turned on yet. Standing outside, I watched as a breeze brushed against the entrance, fluttering the loose canvas before it reached me and caressed my wings, stroking my feathers.

No thought crossed my mind, no intent or desire; I simply spread my wings and took off, pushing myself straight up into the air. Only once I was even with the fort’s walls did I realize how long it had been since the last time I’d flown for the sake of flying, a month at least. I decided that it was time for that to change.

My instincts were already in control, and I didn’t fight them. The air currents opened up before me. Wings tilting, I circled left into a weak thermal, riding it up until I reached the ‘no fly zone’ and dropped out. I hung there, my wings taking slow powerful beats to keep me aloft, and closed my eyes. Up so high, the background smell of Dise was gone. I’d be hard pressed to describe the difference, Dise was too full of all sorts of scents while the air up high simply lacked any.

Again, I let my wings dictate my actions, and soon I found myself circling the fort. Not for the first time I wondered what it would be like to reach for the clouds. I’d heard that pegasi could touch the white fluff, even stand on it and make homes out of it, The Enclave was supposed to be built of the stuff, but I’d never gotten close enough to see for myself. That was another positive for getting out of Dise for awhile, I’d be able to finally fly as high as I wanted, out there there was no upper limit aside from my own wings.

I’d still rather stay.

It was on my second circuit that I noticed her, alone on the south western turret, my turret. Her back was to me, facing out west, watching the setting sun through the buildings. I couldn’t think of any reason she’d be up there, save to talk to me, though that made me wonder why she wouldn’t just wait for me at my tent. Either way, I knew that I’d have to talk to her eventually. Hopefully she wasn’t still mad.

Correcting my course, I made a soft landing behind her, my shod hooves clicking against the stone anyway. Her ears swiveled to the sound and her tail twitched, but otherwise she made no indication that she’d heard me. I found that a little out of character for her, but said nothing as I moved to join her, mimicking her pose, sitting on my haunches and propping my forelegs on the parapet. I began to worry that her anger hadn’t subsided at all.

“Hello, Nurse,” I said, breaking the silence and glancing at her from the corner of my eye. Instead of the slightly shy, put upon look I was expecting, she turned away, her fetlock scrubbing at her face, I knew something was wrong.

“Hello, Lucky,” she replied, not taking her gaze off the distant horizon.

“So, anyway,” I started, jumping into the middle of the conversation we weren’t having, “Hurdles doesn’t agree with me. He seems to think that this is all an elaborate punishment slash last chance for me to get my act together. I think that’s; ‘A’ really over-dramatic, and ‘B’ assumes that my act isn’t already perfect… which it is, I was going to premiere it at next month’s talent show, but I guess that’s not going to happen now. Aloe thinks it’s for morale, after all, who better to entertain the masses and keep them from causing trouble? Personally, I think that I’m getting too awesome and Clean Cutt is sending me away before I can take over.”

She laughed, more of a single chuckle really, finally looking my way. Despite the shock of mirth, she looked older, like a flower with all its color drained out, faded and drawn.

Then she smiled. It was small, fragile, a tug at her lips, just enough to expose a hint of the dimples that had been hidden a moment before, and the weight of years vanished, shattered and swept away by something I wouldn’t understand for years.

And then she spoke, once again Nurse Gray; the mare who’d all but raised me, with almost twenty years of experience cutting through my smoke screens without the slightest hesitation. “It’s because you’re a Pegasus.”

I held out my wings, examining them, wiggling the my pinions and puffing out the down. “Like I said, ‘Awesomeness’.”

Gray rolled her eyes and turned back to Dise. It took her a few seconds to reply, and I waited, letting her process her thoughts into words. “It was a last minute addendum to the mercenary's contract.”

More words passed between us, but I didn’t really hear them. My mind was already coming to a stop, slowly winding down as the reality of the situation became inescapable, each gear slipping from the whole and free-spinning until all momentum was lost. I’d put off thinking about it completely. Even as I joked, it was always an intangible—almost fleeting—thing, something I could brush off and ignore, no more real than an open sky. What was there to worry about when I knew I could talk my way out of it?

I kicked the wall. I was leaving Dise, and there was nothing I could do.

I kicked the wall again and again, the stone parapet fracturing a little more with each hit until a chunk broke off, falling into the alley, a thick clang echoing up as it bounced off a hollow dumpster.

An aura of grey magic caught my hoof, preventing it from doing any more damage.

“I don’t wanna go,” I said, sounding far more petulant than I would have liked.

Forelegs wrapped around my head, pulling it down until it rested against Gray’s barrel. I didn’t resist, instead throwing my own limbs around her and burying my muzzle in her soft hairs. “I know, Love.”

“Can’t you do something?”

“I tried. I had a… talk with Clean Cutt when I found out. I’m sorry.”

A chuckle nearly formed at that. I’d witnessed a ‘talk’ between Gray and Cutt before, from halfway across the compound.

I eventually shifted until my head rested on her whither. The sun was on its last hoof, dipping below the horizon, gold and purple rays painting the thick clouds overhead. We watched in silence as it slowly faded and Dise’s lights took over, the warm sunlight replaced by cool neons.

I barely registered the light breeze that brushed by us until Gray shivered. Without any thought, my wing spread out, draping feathers over her back and curling around her like a blanket. She hummed appreciatively, letting her cheek rest atop my mane.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“It’ll be good for you.”

“Good for me?” I asked, pulling away so that I could get a good incredulous glare going. “How could traveling across the Wastes, worrying that at any moment a band of raiders are going to pop out of nowhere and start shooting, be good for me?”

“There’s a lot more to caravans than raider attacks.”

I almost missed the hurt hidden behind her stern gaze. It was far more effective at reining in my snark than her best glare. "I know," I said, taking in the stone at my hooves, unable to hold her gaze. "I just... I'm scared. Hurdles seems to think it's some grand adventure, like he's going to go out there and come back a hero. I don't want to be a hero. I like my life right where it is. I don't... It doesn't matter, does it?"

"No. No, it doesn't." At length, Gray turned from both myself and the vista, angling for the stairs leading back to the compound. “It’s getting late. We should probably get to bed.”

“Would you like a ride?” Gray froze, her hoof hovering just above the step, a crimson glow blossoming around her stunned visage. “A flight!” I quickly amended. “I meant, would you like a flight? You know, instead of taking the stairs. Not—”

“Are you joking?” Grays asked, the dreary mood from only seconds before evaporating like so much rain before a radiant light of hope. This in-turn banished my own attack of embarrassment, allowing me to fire back with a comfortably sarcastic quip.

“If I were joking I’d’ve said, ‘A horse walks into a bar—”

“Finish that joke, and I’ll make you glad to be getting out of Dise.”

“Some ponies have no sense of humor. Well?” I spread my wings for emphases. “Final boarding call for Lucky airlines, flight number seven.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you can carry me?”

“Stop fishing for compliments and climb up.”

“If you insist,” she said, doing an admirable job of hiding her obvious enthusiasm as she approached.

Getting Gray on my back took more doing than I’d expected. I ended up crouched with my belly just off the stone while she pulled herself up, ending with her cheek pressing against mine and her forelegs wrapping around my neck.

I stood, precariously balanced, looking down at the ground, easily ten lengths below us, upon the parapet, a light gust tingling the feathers of my half open wings. “Are you ready?”

“Uh… I’m not so sure about this,” Gray said, her voice shaking slightly.

“Too late!” I shouted, jumping out into the empty air and hollering with glee.

Gray screamed as we dropped, her grip tightening, nearly choking me as the ground rushed to meet us. I laughed, spreading my wings in full, leveling the dive just as we reached the tent tops. My wings beating, we quickly regained the lost altitude, climbing back into the sky with the wind rushing through our manes. Her screaming folded into giggling laughter, shaking us, sending little trembles across my body and causing me to join her as we soared higher.

I barely recognized the mare clinging to my back, full of fear and excitement both. She’d never been all that much older than me, yet always seemed so grown up, always standing front and center, ever taking charge and responsibility for everypony else. Now though, there was an almost foalish glow to her, like she’d set aside the weight for the world, leaving it behind for once to simply enjoy the moment, revelling in an experience that had always been out of reach.

Our eyes met, and her blush grew, quick to glance away even as she squeezed harder, pressing herself into me. I became very aware of her then, every breath and twitch stealing my focus and unable to think of anything beyond the soft warmth shielding my back from the wind. Instinct took over, guiding my wings and keeping us airborne, banking, rising, and diving without thought; a rollercoaster without rails that I was far too distracted to notice.

The flight was not a long one. I’d never put too much practice into flying regularly, going straight from ‘A’ to ‘B’, rarely staying airborne for even an hour; add the extra weight of another pony and my endurance never stood a chance. My landing was long in the making, hooves touching down at a brisk canter—rather than the more vertical landing I’d normally use—and burning the momentum off as I slowed to a trot, ending at the entrance to Gray’s tent.

I was wiped out by the time we stopped, my barrel pumping with each breath, wings too tired to fold, resting on the ground, hindlegs collapsing beneath me and depositing me on my haunches. I don’t know when she’d moved, but once I’d gathered my composure and looked up, Gray was already off my back and standing before me.

“Whoo, that took a lot more out of me than I’d thought it would,” is what I would have said, however, I barely got to that when I found my mouth otherwise occupied.

Gray’s lips locked over mine, stealing away my recently regained breath. It was a soft, uncertain kiss, almost unintrusive in its way, tinted by a sharp tang of fruit, grape perhaps, though I wasn’t sure, but left me stunned regardless. My mind, flooded by the unexpected sensations and still reeling from the flight and the unresolved thoughts, failed to react, drawing a complete blank. Even still, when the pressure relented, and Gray stepped back, I moved with her, as though to prolong the contact.

The cool air against my now moist lips shocked me, causing my eyes, that had closed at some point, to pop back open.

“Gray?” I asked, lost and more than a little confused.

“Yes, Lucky?” she replied, her voice steady and sure, not matching her glowing, quivering ears and twitching tail.

I stuttered and stammered, struggling to form something that might be recognizable as a questions, though I would have been satisfied with more than a single coherent word. Gray shifted close enough to place a hoof on my lips, shutting me up. She took a steadying breath of her own as I waited, her tail calming and a forced serenity settling on her features.

My expectations, such as they were, were shattered when her hoof dropped only to be replaced once again by her lips. Her tongue touched my lips, as if requesting admittance, and I obliged, opening the way and allowing her inside. The tips of our tongues met, tapping once before sliding forward, grapes mixing with the unique flavor of her tongue across the whole of my own. She quickly took charge, dictating the moves of our hidden tango, leading my exploration of her mouth even as she demanded I allow her unfettered access to mine. Not that I took much notice, distracted as I was by the whole experience.

Far from my first kiss, there was something almost wrong about it, just bordering on taboo, making it all the more exciting, rolling over my confusion and doubt, leaving me adrift in the act and unconcerned with anything beyond.

Then it was over, Gray pulling away, putting a hoof on my collar to hold me back, her eyes staring into mine for a brief moment before she turned away without a word and trotted toward her tent, leaving me open mouthed and unmoving. My eyes followed her, every swaying step and swing of her tail until she disappeared between the white canvas, mage-lamp lighting, casting a soft white glow through the cracks.

I followed her without a thought.

The moment I stepped inside, a grey field surrounded me, lifting me from the ground and carrying me over to the cot. I didn’t fight it, trusting her implicitly.

She laid me out on the cot, belly down, and encouraged me to spread my wings in full. I was about to say something when she followed, climbing onto the bed and standing over me.

“Just relax,” she said, placing her forehooves at the base of my wings. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”

My wing twitched as she pressed into the thick flight muscles, feathers ruffling and settling in response to each movement of her hooves. Sharp hisses and drawn out groans were the entirety of my contribution from that moment on. After an eternity that couldn’t have lasted for more than five minutes, she ended the massage only to dip her muzzle into my left wing, preening me with a mixture of her tongue, teeth and magic, carefully straightening each feather, sliding it under or over it’s neighbor and plucking out those too damaged to be of use.

I don’t know how long it took, minutes, hours, days, they were all plausible to my overstimulated mind. When it did finally end, Gray pulling away for the last time, sitting back on her haunches, I forced myself to roll over.

Above me, her mane, still in disarray from the flight, framed her face in the light of the overhead mage-lamp. I returned the small smile that lit up her face, and likely the blush too. Our next kiss started off just as soft as the other two but quickly grew in intensity, my wings flaring in response, forcing me up off the cot as Gray shifted into position, gasping slightly as she slowly, oh so slowly lowered herself back down.

++Fo:E-RB++

Two cyan eyes, turned green with envy, hidden in shadows, watched Lucky descend from his evening flight, slowing to a stop and letting his passenger slip from his back. They watched with growing concern as he recuperated from his exhaustion. They watched with shock when two lips met, shock becoming disgust when the action was repeated.

Two tear filled eyes closed, unable to watch any longer as four hooves scrambled in haste to flee from the soft gasps and moans that struck her ears like the beat of a drum, reverberating between two ears pressed back in a vain attempt to banish the sounds.

*************************
Footnote:
Chapter 3 Progress: 33%

Author's Note

Definitions:
Length: Equivalent to the distance between a pony's snout and dock. Roughly five to six feet.
Magelamp: A simple magic construct that runs off the ambient magic of Equestria, lasts for roughly six hours before needing to be turned off and allowed to charge. Activated by touch or a unicorn's magic.

Chapter 3-2: Baggage

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 3-2: Baggage

“You say that like you have a choice.”

A mussed up grey mane tickled my nose, filling it with a faint scent of roses and dander. For a time, content to simply hold her in my forelimbs, breathing deeply of her scent, I didn’t move and enjoyed the peaceful quiet. My wing began to shift of its own accord, feathers moving across her barrel, lightly stroking her soft hairs, following the curves of her body. Still asleep, she twitched, and I smiled, sliding my feathers out, questing for another sensitive spot further down, below her ribs. She twitched again, her hindleg pawing at the open air as my pinion dusted over her belly. I stretched my wing just a little further.

Gray squealed in surprise, attempting to jump from the bed and only held down by my grip around her barrel.

Her escape foiled, Gray spun in my grasp, burying her glowing face in my barrel. I responded in kind, pulling her in tighter and using my wings like a cape to shield her from the world, sighing as I rested my chin atop her head and let my eyes slid closed.

I felt more than heard her speak, mumbling incoherently into my collar, and I returned the gesture by mumbling just as unintelligibly into her mane. She took away my pillow, pushing away until we were muzzle to muzzle, bleary but beautiful grey eyes staring into mine brought a smile to my lips.

“It’s time to get up, Love,” she whispered, so close that her words played across my lips.

Lazily, my eyes drifted away from hers, seeking and finding the morning sun flitting in through the unsecured tent flap. As if seeing the light was a wake up call to the rest of my senses, I started hearing the faint sounds of other ponies busy with their own morning rituals and tasks. I must have zoned out, because the next thing I knew Gray was giving me an odd look.

“Lucky?”

“Five more minutes?”

She shot me a smirk, a twinkle in her eye. “Sure, Love, five minutes.”

With that, she squirmed that much deeper into our embrace, nuzzling into the hollow of my neck. I just lay there, too asleep to get up, too awake to nod off, too content to want to risk thinking, but too amazed not to. Of all my fantasies, all the perversions and idle daydreams that found their way into my mind, sneaking in and setting up shop whether I wanted them to or not, all the dark desires and fetishes that I’d conjured up, this had been one I’d cast aside without more than a passing glance, secure in the certainty that it was simply impossible. Yet here I was, Nurse Gray curled up against my barrel, the taste of her a ghost on my tongue, without a clue as to how I should feel about it all.

Excited? Oh yes, there was no doubt about that. Worried? Perhaps a little, the Watchers were a tight knit group and I could name a few who’d not be at all happy with the… whatever this was, which led straight into the next emotion. Confused? Very.

Regardless of my own proclivities, I was having a difficult time reconciling it all. I’d already decided to ride it out and see where things went, but that wasn’t really the issue. As I saw it, there were two issues and one question for which I needed answers.

The first issue was that the mare who’d, for all intents and purposes, raised me was curled up in my forelegs after a night of great sex—really great sex—and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Secondly, there was the question of where this was going. If this was a serious relationship, the timing couldn’t be worse with the expedition on the horizon; if it was something less, well I wasn’t wholly opposed to that, either.

More importantly, I wanted to know where she learned to preen like that, because, speaking from experience, non-fliers don’t know the first thing about preening and it’s really embarrassing to have to correct them at every turn when they screw it up trying to give you a nice birthday present. My last coltfriend dumped me after I wouldn’t even let him try, because, seriously, it’s a pain.

Gray stirred, pulling away again, and planting a soft peck on my lips. “Times up.”

“But it’s so nice and cozy,” I pouted.

“Sorry, but I’ve got responsibilities and,” she paused to sniff herself, “I really need a shower. And don’t forget that you’re due for a shift in the tents today.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she rolled right over me, stomping my complaint flat before I could even voice it. “No more ‘five more minutes’. As much as I would love to indulge you, you know—Mmmff!”

Caught unawares, she only fought the kiss for a moment before letting herself enjoy it, until she decided that enough was enough and pulled my head back with her magic.

“Cute. Now would you kindly let me go?”

I grinned evilly, tightening my grip. “Eenope.”

She looked at me with a single eyebrow raised and horn aglow. I didn’t stand a chance.

My own feather settled on the ground beside my head as I slowly recovered from the involuntary full body spasms, breathing in short gasps. Gray, only half visible between the cot and the floor, paused at the exit before taking her leave. “Have a good day, Love. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” I said, relaxing back on the rough ground, smiling.

A few seconds later I finally decided to get up, rolling to my hooves and stretching, wings flared and back arched upward before pushing my haunches up, withers down, and forelegs out, like a cat just wakeing up from a nap, joints and spine popping with each movement. Twisting my head from side to side set waves rippling down my coat, throwing the most of the dry dirt off into the air.

Gray’s tent had a much more lived in feel than mine. An old aluminum desk filled the back, covered with papers and a small reading lamp. The cot, not designed to be shared, sat in the center, sticking out from the side wall, with a hooflocker at its dock-end. A number of posters adorned the walls, nothing really that interesting to me, scavenged from the walls of hospitals, designed to comfort and inform patients while they waited. There was also a bookshelf, half-full, mostly medical reference texts, though a few novels had found refuge there, near the entrance. It was the nightstand beside the bed that drew my full attention, or rather, the doll sitting on the Canterlot Medical Journal atop the nightstand.

Jumping over the bed with a beat of my wings, I retrieved Dash, threading my head through the aging necklace, its weight reassuring against my collar and neck, and with that I was ready to face the day.

It was only once I’d sat down for breakfast, raw spinach with a dusting of lily petals, that I realized my mistake and slammed my forehead into the table, grumbling about showers and mares being coy too early in the morning.

++Fo:E-RB++

Dise was a surprisingly large city. Surprising mostly for those unfortunate members of its transitory population who managed to wander beyond the central square that housed the four major casinos. Outside of that most populated area, the buildings grew progressively more and more decrepit, if no less numerous, to the point where only the foolish or desperate would dare set hoof within.

Carrot didn’t let that bother him too much; he had a mission after all, an important mission even. Little orange hooves snuck into the derelict inn with nary a sound, rubber shodding proving far more sneaky than steel or iron.

The lobby was small and well lit by Wasteland standards. A pair of couches, pushed back-to-back, were the only seats provided for waiting guests. The receptionist’s desk on the right side was broken, and the office door missing, though Carrot couldn’t see over the counter to spy what lay inside.

The Wasteland’s greatest spy scoffed at the telltale scuffs across the floor, obvious signs of a pony who hadn’t thought to cover his tracks. They could’ve at least tried to hide. Not that it would’ve mattered much. Carrot’s team had already scouted out the room they were using, number 242, however, navigating to it through the interior was a more difficult proposition with such a run down mess of a building. Having such a blatant path laid out for him would undoubtedly save a lot of time trying to find a route that hadn’t been blocked off by debris or broken floors.

Carrot stuck close to the walls, both because he didn’t trust the floors—wood and carpet were not well-known for their longevity in the best of times—and to reduce the inevitable squeaking of the floorboards. Or he would have, if not for the broken walls and holes in the floor that littered the hallway. It was like somepony had drawn a squiggly line down the corridor and put as many obstacles as they could everywhere else.

He bypassed the first set of stairs, there were signs of somepony having gone up that way, but they lacked the repeated use of the ones going further down the hall. At the second set of stairs he paused. They didn’t look particularly sound, many bowing at the center. Still, the trail went over them, and the ponies who made it were certainly larger than Carrot.

As carefully as he could, Carrot climbed the steps, his groans matching the stair’s.

Stupid stairs.

Fourteen stupidly loud steps later saw him slipping down back toward the center of the building, his eyes scanning each door for the desired number.

And there it was, or what was left of it. A good sized chunk of a lower corner was missing, and it looked to have been kicked a few times by the hoof shaped gouges near the knob. Still, the brass placard showed 242, which meant that this was it.

Standing before the door, Carrot slicked back a lock of his green mane, making himself as presentable as possible. Then, with forehoof raised, he struck the door.

Knock, Knock, knock-knock-knock

A half second later he heard the reply, sounding like a hoof on tile.

Click, Click

Followed instantly by muffled cursing.

Carrot nickered, making a mental note to thank Spoon for that one. He waited for a bit, but, to his annoyance, nopony came to answer the door. Knocking again, he said, “I know you’re in there. Come on, open up.”

The door swung open to reveal a towering earth pony stallion. Blue coated and a seafoam mane, he was no less than twice as tall as Carrot and four times as heavy. He growled around the machine-pistol gripped between his teeth, nostrils flared.

“‘Oo da fock ‘re you?”

Carrot grinned, pulling his lips back as far as they would go to display all his teeth, nearly bouncing as he said, “I’m the distraction!”

“Whot?”

++Fo:E-RB++

It was late morning when I finally made my way to the first-aid tents to start my shift. First stop: Tent One, to find out where I’d be working for the remainder of the day, patching up idiots and the occasional intelligent pony who actually had a decent excuse for being sick or injured.

As I entered the large thoroughfare, just inside the front gates, I couldn’t help but notice the large group of ponies near the back, more than twenty, busy stacking and filling crates and boxes, prepping for the coming expedition.

The emotional high I'd been floating on since the previous evening shriveled and died like a deflating balloon as doubts I'd managed to drown out and ignore reignited from glowing embers.

It was really happening, I had all of tomorrow, and then, one way or another, I'd be leaving. My options were more limited than a jenney in heat.

I was already barely staying airborne by the down of my wings, Clean Cutt made that perfectly clear after the last time: as though it was my fault Echo couldn't take a prank. The Watchers didn't 'disown' ponies often, the last had fallen afoul the Mustangs, never saw her again. Compounded with Dise's citizenship laws and I'd be left choosing between finding a new city or joining the Remnant, which was even less exciting than it sounded.

They’d tried to press gang me at least once before. I only managed to avoid military service by the grace of the Watchers and Nurse Gray.

My mother had been one of them until she was discharged for reasons I never knew but could guess. The Watchers took me in before the Remnant ever knew I existed. They found out somehow and there was an attempt to ‘reclaim’ me. Nurse Gray would have none of it though. I don’t know how she managed to get them to back down, but I am eternally grateful for it.

I'm a lover, not a fighter after all.

I started moving again.

The trick was to get out of the caravan without getting kicked out of the Watchers. And there was the stitch, Clean Cutt was a dead-end, Gray'd already tried, Caps Worth lacked the authority to override him, and I doubted Tracker carried any more weight than either. I couldn't fane sick for obvious reasons, and I wasn't willing to do anything severe enough to guarantee success.

“Oh joy, it’s you.”

Lost in thought, I’d reached the tent without noticing and stepped inside. It was by far the smallest of the tents, barely enough room for the ancient metal table and folding chair that served as the front desk. The first stop for every potential non-emergency patient, it was where they went to get queued for the next available physician and where the daily assignments were kept. And because my day wasn’t bad enough, Echo was the lead for the day.

"I love you too, Echo."

He laid his forehooves on the table, the assignment sheet hidden beneath. "So, to what do I own the pleasure of your company?"

“The pleasure is all yours, I’m sure. Unless, of course, you want to change that,” I said, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.

His lips curled like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you make asses look pretty, but you don’t see me throwing it in your face.”

“Some of us can’t afford to take beauty rests.”

“And some of us need them more than others.” He leaned back, crossing his forelegs and glared at me. Pouncing at the opening, I snagged the sheet and dragged it closer, searching for my name.

“Why are you bothering, it won’t change anything, nothing you do now will get you out of it.”

“A conscience is a terrible thing,” I said, spotting my name beside Tent 5, “how blessed you are to not be burdened so.”

“More so than the poor sods who draw your tent, perhaps.”

I turned to leave, not looking back as I slipped out of the tent. “Anything to keep them from suffering your face.”

It wasn’t my best parting line, but at least I got the last word, a victory in its own right. A quick trot later and I shimmied into my designated tent, ready to burn away the hours performing all the menial tasks of stitching wounds, diagnosing the common cold, and prescribing placebos.

To my great joy, there was a pony already awaiting my attentions, an ice blue unicorn stallion with a mane of silver, sniffing back a river of mucous that made every attempt to drown him in his own fluids.

Rule number one, always smile, it puts the patient at ease.

“Oh thank the goddess, finally!” he shouted as I walked in. “Ya’ve gottta help me Doc, I’ve got Lupus!”

It was going to be a long day.

It wasn’t Lupus. It’s never Lupus. He wouldn’t listen though, because a five minute search through a Canterlot Journal of Medicine is more reliable than the professional opinion of somepony who actually understands all the big words. After five minutes of trying to explain that to him, I finally gave up. The pills I gave him were red and marked with ‘M-6’ on one side. They were made from crushed and dyed Sugar Bombs that we compressed to look like pills. I gave him instructions to take two every morning for a week and then come back for a follow-up. He finally left a half-hour later.

The next pony to enter was far less agitating, despite spraying blood all over my muzzle when he showed me the gash along his neck. It was while I sewed the wound closed, the catgut strung between my pinions and muzzle like a game of cat’s cradle, that Hurdles decided to show up.

I caught sight of him in the corner of my eye as he strode in like a judge ready to pronounce judgement. After sliding the needle into place, I left it there so I could turn and greet him properly.

“Hey Big Se—”

That was the first time I’d experienced ‘Time Drag’, where everything seems to slow down, giving you the chance to admire the just how much shit is hovering over your head before it all comes crashing down. He was missing two nails out of his shoe, and the spot of rust just forming at the bottom edge.

Then I was blinking up at the tent’s ceiling and the unlit magelamp hanging from the support. I didn’t try to get up for a minute or two, just laid there, admiring the canvas fabric, a sky blue color with, I noticed, a slight rip that would need patching before the next rain came.

“Are you alright?”

It was the stallion I’d been sewing up. He held a cotton pad to his neck, covering up the half finished job, the suture getting tangled as it hung from his neck.

“I’m just peachy.” I tasted blood.

“Are you sure? Cause that looked like it hurt.”

“Hurt? Nah, that was just a love tap, you know how colts get when they like somepony and don’t know how to show it.”

I tried to sit up. It worked about as well as to be expected. That tear really needed to get fixed.

“Should I go get somepony?”

“What? No. I just need a minute to think. Just sit tight and I’ll finish up, and you can be on your way.”

My tongue fished around for a moment, isolating the cut in my cheek and poking it tentatively, making me wince.

I didn’t really worry about the why of it. I could list off at least five things I’d done to provoke him recently, and there was always the possibility that it was something I’d set up weeks ago that only just recently triggered; there was nothing quite like a long game prank. No, I was much more concerned with how I was going to explain it away to everypony else. I mean, I very probably deserved it, so their reactions could easily go either way. Tracker would reserve judgment until he knew enough. Aloe would get mad at Hurdles more than at me, especially if was in response to a prank, after all, the only proper response to a prank was another prank. Gray… I wasn’t really sure about Gray anymore, honestly. A few days ago, it would have been a simple thing to predict her behavior. I’d get a talking to and Hurdles would get the same, though perhaps to a lesser extent. Now though… things had changed.

Eventually, I did get off my back and back to work, finishing the suture and giving him some antibiotic cream to apply every morning and instructions to come back and have it re-inspected in a week’s time. He left, and it was a few minutes before the next patient arrived.

While I waited, I did something I’d been putting off. I thought about the previous night.

It had been wonderful. Exciting. Nudging up on taboo, which only made it that much more fun. I’d go so far as to say it was the best sex I’d ever had, whether that was because of the aforementioned reasons, or simply because Gray knew what she was doing was debatable. We hadn’t talked about it, but I had difficulty believing that it was a one time thing, both because Gray was not like me and the way she’d spoken this morning. If it had been ‘just sex’ we’d be able to go on as if nothing had happened; nopony else need know. A relationship though, that couldn’t be hidden, which meant that others would know about it, and I wasn’t a fool enough to think that everypony would approve.

I didn’t regret it, after all, great sex was great sex, and I definitely wasn’t going to do anything that would get in the way of having more of it, great sex was, after all, great sex, but did I love Gray that way, enough to commit to a relationship days before I leave for months? Sex was never just sex, after all.

I reached no conclusions before my next patient entered, an earth pony with a broken foreleg, a member of the Galicians.

The relationship between the Wachters and the gangs of Dise was the best definition of irony I’d ever found. Each of the gangs controlled a section of the city, divided into quarters where the businesses had to pain patronage to the controlling gang, for protection of course. The Watchers turned that system on its head. Operating as a, more or less, free clinic for the average citizens left much to be desired. So, in order to pay the bills, the gangs were required to provide a monthly donation to the Watchers or their members would be turned away. This allowed them to treat most problems without requiring any payment from the individual ponies, unless of course something more drastic was required, limb replacement for an example.

Setting bones was not fun for anypony involved. Fortunately, it was a simple fracture, barely a millimeter out of place. I still gave him some painkillers before setting the bone. He only screamed a little. It was while I set the splints that Tracker showed up.

Our greeting was formal and unobtrusive, which was normal for the old ghoul, as he took a seat in the corner and waited. At first it was fine, he sat there with his unreadable expression, saggy, torn flesh being what it was. My patient wasn’t too thrilled, sitting a little straighter and very much not looking in the ghoul’s direction as I finished up.

It was my first marefriend all over again. A week into our relationship, Tracker had come by as I was doing something, homework I think. He sat and watched me for two hours before saying anything, and when he did it was to critique my work. Not surprisingly, we devolved into an argument until he managed to steer straight to the topic he’d wanted to talk about in the first place: sex. Most. Awkward. Talk. Ever.

That was the first time I really understood how he saw our relationship, though I can’t say understand why. My best guess is that I always listened better more intently than everypony else, not for the reasons he’d have liked—it’s amazing how many survival skills translate into prank fodder. Having somepony listen to him must have meant a lot, because he took a shine to me quickly enough and began inserting himself into my life, and, if I’m completely honest, I was grateful to have a stallion in my life who cared.

That didn’t mean we got along all that well though, or that I appreciated his constant involvement in what I considered my private affairs.

It’s easy to imagine my surprise when, three hours later, he stood and left, mumbling a goodbye in his gravelly voice before exiting the tent. I watched him leave in silence, too stunned to say anything, he hadn’t even commented on my swelling cheek!

I had no idea what to make of that, and it bothered me for the rest of the day, making it hard to focus on being polite to my patients, especially when they were responsible for their own suffering. Nothing else of note happened for the rest of my shift, the sky darkening before I cleaned up for the night and set off toward my tent.

Landing just outside my tent, I paused. The lamp was on, a soft white glow flowing through the cracks. I was certain that I hadn’t left it on the previous day. Different scenarios ran through my mind, from the almost impossible of Echo waiting for a second round of sniping to the fear of Hurdles wanting to take another swing at me. If most of my day hadn’t been so disconcerting, I like to think I wouldn’t have been surprised to find Gray curled up on my bed with a book propped up between her forelegs.

She looked up, and, just for a moment, her lips were spread in a soft warm smile that did more to light up the tent than any lamp could hope to match.

Then she saw my face.

++Fo:E-RB++

The arrival of the NCA, and its stabilization of the region, was one of the only reasons that Dise was able to prosper. Before then, like the rest of the Wasteland, any area without sufficiently large centers of population were at the mercy of Raiders and whatever horrors came crawling out of the irradiated woodwork. The NCA, through sheer force of will and bullets, took it upon itself the inenviable task of clearing away the unwanted chaff and made the roads between cities and towns, if not safe for individuals, then at the least traversable by caravans and larger groups, and reinvented tourism. Whether this was a good thing or not depends largely on one’s perspective.

Even though Dise was not, in the strictest sense, part of the NCA, it did accept their currency and was more than willing to open its gates to anypony with enough of it to last more than five minutes at the roulette tables.

At first the NCA citizenry came in trickles, then word spread, and the masses came in pastel waves of color and coin. Even though the casinos contained myriads of rooms for visiting guests, they simply did not have enough room.

To take up the slack, and make a few bits in the process, one entriperuial pony decided that it would be a worthwhile venture to reopen an old hotel. After months of scheming and back-room dealing, the one and only Stable 00 opened its unassuming doors.

Referred to by most as the ‘Double Ought’, Stable 00 was designed like most genuine Stable Tec stables, with an exterior that, were it not for the neon sign above it, would be mistaken for a small diner, complete with full sized pictures in the windows to support the illusion.

Stepping through the door quickly dispels the illusion, however, as it contains all one would expect to find in a hotel lobby, from divans to couches for guests awaiting their rooms, a counter behind which sits a clerk ready to assign rooms and dispense keys and two or three bell-hops on hoof at all times, just in case a guest requires their luggage to be carried for them. A single door, mimicking that of a naval hatch, at the lobby’s back leads to a small room with a stairwell, that in turn leads down to a small cavern of unfinished rock walls. Directly opposite the bottom of the stairs is the great cog, a mass of rusted iron with two large zeros painted in yellow at the center, standing open, welcoming the newly arrived ponies into its stainless steel walled depths. The Double Ought houses all the amenities one would expect of a hotel, a lounge, rooms, a buffet and separate restaurant, even a miniature casino with slots and two game tables, all fashioned after a Stable’s sterile steel aesthetic.

Just as with the exterior, however, it’s an illusion, the doors were hollow, crafted of polished sheet metal which also makes up the walls, ceilings, and floors, and the great cog, naught but painted wood.

Oracle had noted all of that the night before, filing it away with the locations of each doorway and exit, along with which patrons were likely to cause trouble. He did not particularly like the Double Ought, being underground and having only a single exit did nothing to comfort the old soldier, but it was better than lodging in a casino.

He was short for a stallion, just barely eye level to a mare, with a teal coat and fiery mane, tinted by streaks of grey, and wore a simple military harness with a large caliber pistol holstered at his left wither. A stone could learn a thing or two from the hard angles of his muzzle, weathered by age and abuse. The simple cross-hatched radio tower that adorned his flanks belied his profession.

Sitting at the small desk in the corner, his lieutenant, Solder Iron, a mint green unicorn of average height but slight of build, fiddled busily with a dismantled revolver held in a soft auburn aura, cleaning and inspecting each piece in-turn before setting it aside.

Just as he entered the apartment through the vertically sliding door, a unicorn mare stepped out of a similar door leading to the bathroom, pained groans following on her fetlocks.

She might have been pretty once, but the myriad of scars twisting her coat ruined any chance she had of winning a beauty pageant, the bruise on her left eye not doing her any favors. Wet splotches of red dotted her otherwise pristine blonde mane tide back in a tight braid, her tail similarly styled. In her blue magic aura she carried a long combat knife, wiping it against her coat, the blood disappearing amid red hairs. It was the thick silver collar, however, with a glowing red light at the hollow of her neck, that encouraged most ponies to take a step—or ten—back.

Their eyes met, and the mare stepped aside, allowing Oracle to pass by and enter the bathroom, the door closing behind him.

The bathroom was small, barely large enough for a pony to turn around, with toilet and sink on one side and the porcelain bath and shower combo against the far wall.

A stallion, a blue coated earth pony, lay on his back beep inside the porcelain bath.

Off the rack, held in a magenta field, a towel floated to the floor, settling down behind Oracle before he took his seat, eyes never leaving the other pony.

He was big, even by earth pony standards, with muscles of iron rippling beneath his coat and supported by bones as strong as steel; the Double Ought’s walls would have folded like paper against his onslaught. In his current state, however, he wouldn't be ripping aluminum foil, much less a wall or a pony. His right wither was disjointed, while his left eye swelled shut and each breath instigated a wince. Splotches of black marred his coat, leaving vibrant red streaks where they touched the glossy porcelain. His right ear was missing.

After letting out a long hiss, he opened his good eye and slumped back at what he saw. “Oh, fock me.”

“It is good that you understand the severity of your situation.” Oracle said. “It’ll make this go that much faster.”

“I guess dis means I ain’t gonna to be collectin’ dat bounty den, ay?” Oracle didn’t respond as the stallion hissed and cursed, shifting, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Whadda ya feed dat bitch, ay? A focking gallon of Med-x or some shit? Fock! I’d to’ve broken ‘alf ‘er damn ribs afore she pinned me.”

“That explains the ear.”

The stallion conscientiously reached for the stub, wincing at the light touch. “Fock. You donna fink it’s gonna ruin me luck wif da mares, ay?”

“I think you have more pressing concerns.”

“Hmm? Oh, nah, ifin you was gonna knock me off you’d’ve gone an’ done it.” Oracle snorted at that, but before he said anything, the stallion continued, “Uh, I ‘ate ta ask, but ifin you found me, did ya find me partner too?”

“Green, thin, likes knives?”

“Aye.”

“Yes.”

He slumped. “Ah. Shit. ‘Is ma’s gonna ‘ave me ‘ead, she is. Tried to warn ‘im I did, wouldn’t listen though.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “So, what now? Torture? I gadda say, gettin beat by dat bitch was embarrassin’ enough for one day, I don’ fancy anoder round.”

“Nothing that isn’t absolutely necessary.”

“Ain’t ‘xactly reassurin’.”

“I’m not in the habit of reassuring assassins.”

A spark of indignation burned behind the stallion 's words. “Oi, jus’ one damn—”

“I’m also not in the habit of splitting hairs with prisoners,” Oracle said making his annoyance plain. When no further protest came, he continued, “Admirable. Now, you are going to shut up and listen, or I will leave this room for exactly thirty minutes, during which time my associate will likely amputate as many of your limbs as she can before I get back.”

The stallion’s eyes dilated, his hoof shooting back to the jagged remains of his ear. Certain that they’d reached an understanding, Oracle continued.

“Good. The next part is just as simple. You will go to your employer in two days, and you will repeat these words to him. ‘Farsight has fled. He has left NCA territory forever and will not be coming back.’ Do you understand?” The stallion nodded. “Good, now, repeat it.”

“Farsight ‘ave fled. ‘E ‘ave left NCA territory forever and won’t be coming back.”

Oracle had him repeat both the words and instructions three more times before he was satisfied. He then stood and left, the hollow door sliding closed behind him.

Back in the apartment, Cross lounged on the bed, staring at a book held open in her hazy blue aura, while Solder sat frozen, staring at him with three bullets hovering over the empty chambers of his revolver. Oracle ignored them, focusing on the newest occupant, a zebress with a mane of tightly woven dreadlocks, whose stripes had gone grey with age.

“Forty-eight hours,” he told her with a tone of respect. “And, if you would, see to his wounds. It wouldn’t do for them fester.”

The zebress nodded, stepping around him without comment and into the bathroom without a word.

The other two fell in behind Oracle as he left the apartment; Cross slipping the book into her saddlebags as she hopped off the bed, while Solder, a few seconds slower, quickly holstered his revolver as he moved to catch up. Fluorescent lights illuminated the hallways as the trio moved toward the hotel's exit.

“Uhm... Commander?”

“Yes, Irons?”

"I... What... Are you sure about this?"

"No, I'm not."

The tempo of hoof beats changed, the hextet beat dropping to a mere quartet as Solder stopped. Oracle’s ear twitched back before he followed suit. A heavy intake of breath seemed to expand his whole body, only making him look all the smaller as he let it out.

When he next spoke, he sounded tired and drawn, like an old record played far too many times. “I’m not psychic.”

“I know that, Commander,” said Irons, recovering from the initial shock that had brought him up short. “It’s just… you...” He sighed. “You know he is going to follow us.”

“Very probably.”

“Then—”

“I don’t understand why we don’t just kill him,” Cross said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If you had done that in the first place there would have been many fewer deaths.”

“Your opinions on this have already been noted.”

“As you say, Master.”

Oracle had to resist the urge to rub his temple. “Irons, find Locke and Stock, make sure they are at the funeral.”

“Comm—”

“Just do it. We’re having a meeting aftward and I want everyone present. Now go.”

Irons saluted before moving past the other two, cantering down the hallway. It wasn’t until he disappeared from sight, turning the first corner, that Oracle started moving again, Cross a half step behind.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he said with a grunt. “And not a damn word out of you.”

Cross’ teeth audibly clicked as they snapped shut.

*************************
Footnote:
Chapter 3 Progress: 66%

Chapter 3-3: Baggage

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 3-3: Baggage

“You say that like you have a choice.”

I enjoyed most of my dreams, preferring them over the grind of day-to-day life. In fact, I made it a habit to sleep as much as possible, taking naps anytime the opportunity presented itself. Waking up, then, tended to be a long, drawn out affair that involved a great deal of moaning, groaning, and out right complaining as I, or somepony else, forced me out of bed. Never before had I found a way in which I enjoyed being woken up.

Gray’s lips departed mine, leaving a chill where there’d been a moist warmth just seconds before. It was an invigorating sensation, one that tasted of strawberries oddly enough. I immediately wanted more, not that that was enough to get me out of bed.

“Good morning, Love,” Gray said, a mirth to her tone, presumably based from the expression I was likely wearing due to my waring desires.

I hummed airily through a smile, my eyes still lightly closed, putting a slight inflection at the end to make it a question.

“Still sleepy then?”

The next hum, a single, flat, uninflected note, was accompanied by a slight nod of my head and a hopeful twitch of my right ear.

“How’s this then?” she asked, rejoining for a second round. It was soft and tender, her tongue brushing my lips. The heady passion of the previous night was gone, replaced by a more complex mixture of emotions and desires. It was the kind of kiss that only comes once the fire has burned out, but the embers still glow, radiating a comfortable warmth. “Better?”

I opened my eyes, and she filled my vision. I breathed in, and all I could smell was her scent. I licked my lips, and all I could taste was her tongue. I was awash in her presences, drowning in everything that was her, and I was content. We laid there, nose to nose, staring into each others eyes, not a single thought between us.

Then she touched my cheek, and I winced at the contact, the bruise a nice shade of brown through my coat. Gray cringed back with me, pulling her hoof away, muttering an apology as I cupped her hoof in my own, kissed it, gently set it back against the welt, and let out the corniest line I could think of.

“The stiffest of kicks from you would be naught but a healing balm.”

Gray’s expression cracked with a wry grin and a roll of her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet, here you are,” I said, letting my hoof brush her cheek, run along her neck, and trace a line down her chest, “laying next to me after a night of hot—” her hoof crushed my lips, muffling me, but not stopping me as I waxed poetic the different positions we’d tried, until she gave up for giggling “—that say about you?”

She didn’t say anything, just shaking her head and trying to control her laughter. Eventually things did calm down, and her eyes inevitably returned to the bruise. “He really just walked in, decked you, and walked out without so much as a word? And you didn’t do anything to deserve it?”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged, it was the third time she’d asked the same questions. “No. Nothing. It’s been months since the last time I pulled anything, well, anything on him at least. I know you don’t believe—”

“No, no, it’s not…” Gray stopped, obviously rethinking what she’d been about to say. “It’s… I know how you two are. You aren’t exactly nice to him.”

“That’s not true,” I said in mock outrage. “I’m nothing but nice to him.”

“Really?” she asked, giving me a disbelieving look.

“Really.”

“So, you didn’t and don’t intentionally hit on him constantly just to make him uncomfortable.”

“Since when is ego boosting not a good thing?”

“And the fits of giggling that follow?”

“It’s not my fault that he is adorable when he’s embarrassed!”

Gray shook her head in exasperation. “Just promise me you’ll fix it.”

“I’m not worried about it,” I said with a shrug as I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. “After all, we’ll have plenty of time to sort it all out while we’re gone.”

The magelamp wavered to and fro overhead, stretching and compressing the shadows in imitation of a slow dancing candleflame. I didn’t like my situation. Not my immediate situation, that was awesome. No, it was the thing with Hurdles that was confounding; mostly because I honestly had no idea why he was mad at me. The last time I’d pulled any prank on him was months ago. He hadn’t seemed angry the day before. With the expedition and all, he’d been downright chipper, even managing to crack some half-decent jokes at dinner.

Gray’s silence caught my attention. Looking back, I was surprised to see tears in her eyes and her ears limp.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a cracked whisper, before burying her muzzle into my chest, clinging to me like a she feared of being torn away. I didn’t respond, partly because I didn’t know how, but also because I could barely breathe for the death grip she had on my barrel. And then she was gone, galloping out of the tent, her last words seeming to echo in my ears. “I can’t do this.”

“What the fuck?” I shouted, jumping out of the bed. Only to get tangled in the covers and crash. I fought my way free and galloped out of the tent, flared my wings and pulled a perfect ninety degree lateral turn. My left hooves dug grooves in the dirt and barely anchored me to the ground. An empty path greeted me. A quick one-eighty left me looking down another similarly empty road.

“Gray!”

An earth pony or unicorn might have been out of luck at that point, but I was just getting started. My wings went to work and carried me over the tents.

What in Tartarus had that been? Sorry for what? Can’t do what? I—No! Not again!

Something in the air was making it hard to see, a low cloud or whatever. Scrubbing my eyes only seemed to wake it worse, so I stopped and strained to see through the murkiness, hoping I could still find Gray. It was futile. Between whatever was fogging my eyes, the distance, and her coloring, I couldn’t…

Hundreds of little lines slid across the edge of my Pipbuck’s hud as I moved. Whatever was affecting my eyes wasn’t giving that thing any trouble, it was as clear as ever. I ground my teeth. Even that utterly useless radar/sonar… thing was working like a charm. Hundreds of little tabs were zipping this way and that, as though I gave a flying fuck about any of them.

“What the fuck good are you?” I screamed at the glossy screen on my pastern. “Who the fuck cares about all those other ponies? Tell me where Gray is!”

I punched it. As spark fizzled off where my shoe connected with the metal. I punched it again. And again. I wailed on it, sending a stream of sparks into the air, smashing in random buttons, and spinning the dial against the side of my hoof.

Stable-Tec™ Crusader Mode activated
Loading Active Crusades…

Expedition EvasionGray DaysJumping Gates
I stared at the words typing across the screen, the fog seeming to lift as a smile crept across my lips. Finally, this thing was going to be useful. Turning the dial, I selected Gray Days. The screen flashed.

Gray Days: Find Nurse Gray and discover the reason behind her sudden change in behavior.

I clicked it again. The screen flashed. Nothing changed.

“Oh, come on!”

After another round of beating and cursing the pastern mounted computer of utter uselessness, I flew straight to Gray’s tent. All of ten seconds later, I came to a cantering landing, trotting straight into the opening.

As I feared, it was as abandoned as my own. I stood, half inside, just staring at the walls and furniture. My mind was a complete blank. I couldn’t seem to form a complete thought, everything slipping away like the wind between my feathers.

I couldn’t help but stare at the bed. That it was not designed for more than one pony hadn’t hindered us in the least that night. Every movement had been a balancing act to keep the other from falling to the floor. The covers hadn’t lasted long. Now… now it was perfect, pristine even. The sheets hugged the mattress without a single wrinkle to be seen with the pillow resting plump and ready to comfort the next head to rest upon it. It was almost like nothing had ever happened.

I turned away.

Only for my eyes to land on the only picture in the tent. Mounted in an crude plastic frame, the photo was probably the most expensive thing Gray owned. Taken and bought so long ago that I don’t even remember the event. No more than two years after my adoption by the Watchers, Gray didn’t really look all that different, maybe a little thinner about the flanks with a slightly shinier coat. The other ponies though… Aloe, Hurdles, and myself… I’d forgotten that I used to be taller than him.

Crusade ‘Gray Days’ updated: Speak with Aloe to find clues about Gray’s actions.
Crusade ‘Jumping Gates’ updated: Speak with Aloe to find clues about Hurdles actions.

A grin found my lips. So, maybe it wasn’t completely useless.

Aloe was a rising star in the Watchers. Her natural affinity for healing spells made her invaluable. Unfortunately, she had a deep seated aversion to seeing anything that was meant to remain inside a pony. It was so bad that she had trouble wrapping a bandage around a paper cut. For a few years, they’d believed that immersion therapy, or as I liked to call it, The Crimson Carnival of Carnage, would cure her. It didn’t work out.

Then, about two years ago, a merchant had stumbled upon a book containing some small portion of the formula and process for making Healing Potions. Needless to say, figuring out how to make those would go a long way to helping everypony. Aloe immediately volunteered to help with the research. Some small progress had been made, but the most important parts were the ones that they were still missing. The key still eluded them.

More important to me, I had a good place to start my search.

It wasn’t a particularly large structure, just slightly more floor space than my own tent. The multitudes of tables didn’t help. Glass tubes of all descriptions, bubbling with many colored liquids, covered the metal tables that crowded nearly every inch of floor space, a plethora of gems and attunement, well, devices I guess—the minutia of magic had always eluded me, no matter how often Gray and Aloe tried to explain it—made seeing who was inside nearly impossible.

“Hey, Aloe,” I shouted from the entrance, “do you have a minute?”

An answer came via a loud sneeze from Doctor Humors as he stepped around one of the tables.

“Bless you.” I spouted by rote—Tracker and Gray would be so proud.

Humors sniffed, holding a kerchief to his nose with his magic. “Ah, thank you, uh, Lucky, is it?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Is Aloe around?”

The loud rumble of a blowing nose shook the nearest table, a bubbling green liquid sloshing dangerously close to spilling. “Ah, I’m afraid not, lad. Haven’t seen her in a few days, come to think of it. Odd that.” I started to ask how he could have not noticed his assistant's absences, only to be completely ridden over as he continued, “Are you excited about tomorrow, it’ll be the beginning of a… ah…” His kerchief swept in to cover his snout. “Achoo!”

I cringed back from the expulsion. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Retreating with the full knowledge that he was not going to be of any use, I said, “If you see her can you let her know I’m looking for her?”

“Of course, of course,” he said, waving the sodden cloth at me.

That was odd, Aloe was supposed to be the responsible one, always on time and ready to do her part. Her not showing up to work should have set off a few red flags, but I was oblivious, instead flying toward her tent, certain that she’d be there.

Trotting into her room was like entering a miniature library. Besides providing room and board, the Watchers gave out small allowances. Aloe spent almost all of hers on any book she could get her hooves on. The topic was never important, only that they were words saved and passed along by other ponies.

She wasn’t there, of course, that would have been too damned convenient.

++Fo:E-RB++

Cross followed on Oracle’s heel as they left Dise, cutting through Parasprite Mound, headed toward a small gathering out on the plains.

A mile outside of Dise, they joined the other seven and one half members of the Arbitrors who had gathered around a deep enough to hide a full grown brahmin. A shovel shot out of the unfilled grave, arcing high only to land, with its haft pointing skyward, in the pile of dirt left from the work. Two grimy hooves followed the discarded tool, gripping the lip and hauling a bulky earth pony out of the grave, his brown coat masking any soil that covered his body. In spite of the situation’s gravitas, Appletosser wore a wide grin until he caught Locke’s eye, and his propriety asserted a firm stoicism in his expression as he joined the group.

Eight and one half mercenaries stood around their ninth and final member, Carmine, laid out on a small litter, covered from tufted tail to pointed beak by a dirty white bed sheet.

A heavy silence hung over the gathered equines as Oracle’s gaze took them in, matching Appletosser’s stoicism, both heavy with the weight of those who’d gone before. Solder Iron was not as reserved, with the deep set frown and uncertain eyes of a pony who’d lost a friend. Cross, Zefira—the zebra matriarch—and her companion called Knives, all wore blank, unreadable expressions, though whether to hide their emotions or because they lacked any, Oracle was uncertain. Carrot, an unmarked colt, had slipped by unnoticed to press himself against Cross’ foreleg, occasionally wiping at his muzzle. The twins, however, were who claimed most of Oracle’s attention. Stock glowered at the shrouded figure, his dark blue wing puffing and twitching at his side, while Locke struggled to maintain her composure, tears brimming as she watched Carmine’s corpse as though she expected him to rise at any moment.

After a solid three minutes of silence, Oracle acted, horn lighting up and enshrouding Carmine in a magenta glow. Cross, Irons, and Locke soon followed suit. Ice blue, auburn, and carnation mingling with his magenta in a rainbow aura as Carmine was lifted from the ground and lowered with care into the grave. A single sob escaped Locke’s control, her horn winking out as she covered her mouth with a light blue hoof.

The next break in the silence came from Zefira, the aged zebra’s voice deep, rich, and lyrical as mournful chant of indecipherable words flowed from her lips. None of the ponies had ever asked the meaning, content to allow the melancholic aria stand upon its timbre alone.

As the last note faded, no one moved, eyes locked on the open grave darkening in the fading sunlight. One, two minutes passed before Appletosser moved, taking hold of a shovel and hoisting the first clod of earth in its metal spade. He held it over the grave for a moment, his eyes staring into the depths, before emptying it. A dull thump echoed up from the grave.

“He was a right foul mouthed fowl,” Stock said acidly, earning a scowl from his sister.

“Aye,” Appletosser said around the shovel haft, the levity despite the bass of his voice, “but his mouth was only half as foul as his breath.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Locke said, looking away with a pout.

Irons huffed, his magic taking hold of another shovel and joining Appletosser in covering the grave. “Tell that to that poor sod in Saddlesprings. I hear he still can’t smell anything.”

Appletosser dropped a second load into the hole as he chuckled. “Remember when he found that copse of wild onions?”

“Dear goddesses,” Locke groaned, “don’t remind me! It took a week to get the taste out of my mouth.”

So it went, the four of them going back and forth with tales of their former companion, recalling the fights and battles with friends and foes alike, giving voice to complaints and praises in equal measure. Each memory led to another, all filled with embellishment, but honest nonetheless. Oracle, Carrot, and Cross spoke as well, though far less frequently as everyone—save Zefira—lent a hoof or horn in covering the grave.

Eventually, the tales ran thin and the grave was covered, only the freshly turned earth and a few pieces of twisted rebar, with dog-tags woven between them, to mark the grave.

In the silence that followed, two-by-two, every eye turned to Oracle who met each in turn until he had everyone’s attention.

“In two days, we will be leaving Dise, escorting a Watcher caravan as it heads out west. By the end of the week we will have left NCA territory and crossed into the Palomino Wastes. Our contract with them is open ended, extending indefinitely until they have returned home.” Oracle paused, letting the words sink in. All knew of the contract, though only Irons, Zefira, and himself were fully aware of its details. As he expected, the others nodded, accepting his decision without question. Then he continued, “I will not be returning.”

That caused a stir. Irons, already informed, grimaced, but said nothing. Appletosser, Locke, Stock, and Carrot were not so silent, their responses all varying degrees of surprise and shock.

A raised hoof silenced the voices. “The Watchers want to make with contact other cities, ones outside the NCA’s reach. Once a suitable place is found, I will pass my command to Irons, and the rest of you will finish out the contract and return home.”

“You can’t do that,” Appletosser said, his deep voice sounding almost plaintive. “You promised—”

Oracle’s glare, cold with an old pain turned raging storm, cut off the much larger stallion, driving him to take a full step back and bow his head. “You all have your orders. Tomorrow at sunrise, we will meet outside the Watchers compound.”

With that, Oracle turned and left. All watched him leave without so much as a word, save Cross, who followed at his heel.

++Fo:E-RB++

Or maybe it wouldn’t be.

As I turned to leave, I spotted Aloe trotting my way. Things were finally looking up.

With a boost from my wings, I cleared the distance in a single leap and stopped at a hover right in front of her.

It was only as I pulled up that I noticed the droop in her neck and ears. “Uh, hey, Aloe? Are you okay?” She looked up, and my wings stopped, dropping me to the ground. That look in her eyes dusted off memories, nights of consolation and chocolate and the mental gymnastics required to comfort somepony as they railed against their special somepony and lamented their loss at the same time. “Oh, sis, what happened?”

She made a noise somewhere between a nicker and whiny, her jaw tightening as sadness lost ground to anger, and I found myself on the receiving end of a fiery glare that should have set my feathers aflame. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten that look, but usually I at least knew why. Her lips moved as though she was about to speak.

Then she just turned around, spinning in place and smacking my muzzle with her tail before she started trotting off.

I didn’t know what to do. My jaw went slack even as my ears perked up and pointed forward. What. The. Fuck?

In the time it took me to recover, she’d made it a good ten lengths back to wherever she’d come from. I launched into the air, did a one-eighty, and came to a perfect four point landing in her path. She yelped as her horn glanced off Dash’s wing and fell back to her haunches.

“What the Tar, Aloe?” She still didn’t say anything, instead just glaring at me from under her forelegs as she massaged her horn. “Talk to me, sis.”

“No! I’m not talking to you,” she growled through the moisture pooling in her eyes.

I blinked. This was worse than the time I put anesthetic in her perfume bottle. “What? Why?”

Not answering, she rolled to her hooves facing away again and began trotting away. That wasn’t going to fly with me. I repeated the my aerial show, this time landing a little further away and giving her time to pull up short.

She glared at me standing in her way, her eyes narrowing as though she could scare me off. When I showed no sign of moving, her horn lit up, surrounding me in magic as she attempted to force me out of the way. The magic tingled over my coat, sapping the weight from every cell, and I started to rise, my mane and tail wafting as if I were floating in water.

That was really not going to fly. My expression hardened into a glare every bit a match for hers. I stretched out my wings, focusing on them and tensing the muscles, holding them just on the edge of flapping, as though I were about to take off. A pressure built at the base of my pinions, almost becoming painful before I gave a single push. The spell collapsed, shattering around me. The weight of gravity reasserted itself, and I dropped back to the ground.

“Goddess damn it! I’ve fucking had enough of everyone's fucking attitudes to day!” I shouted, taking a steps closer until our foreheads pressed together, my wings still spread wide. “You’re going to Goddess damn well tell me what the fuck your problem is, and you’re going to do it right the fuck now!”

She tried to match me, straining to push me back, but I held my ground. We stood there for what felt like an hour before her tears became too much, and she blinked, breaking away to the side. “F-fuck you, Lucky! F-fuck you and that old whorse!”

It was my turn to fall back a pace, wings wilting halfway to my side. “Wh-what?”

“I hate you! I’m glad you’re going away. I hate you and I never want to see you again!”

“Wh— Aloe? Don’t say that.” She ignored me, galloping away as I called after her. “Aloe.” I should have chased after her, but I couldn’t. My hindlegs gave out. “Aloe!”

++FoE:RB++

I stared up at the magelamp hung above my bed. It looked no different than the more common firefly lamps, a brass bottom and top with a glass like orb in the center, but it wasn’t glass; it was a crystal of some kind or another with a multifaceted surface to cast its light in a hundred directions at once. Or it would if it was turned on, which mine wasn’t. That would have required getting up, and I really just didn’t feel like it.

Nor did I feel like acknowledging the pony who’d just walked in, but ignoring him completely would have caused more problems.

“How ya doin’, colt?” the gravely, dusty voice that could only belong to one pony… or well, one pony who I actually knew, asked.

I glanced briefly toward the ghoul as he sat beside the bed. I didn’t bother to sound interested. “You here to yell at me too?”

“Ah talked ta Gray.”

“So, that’s a yes.”

“No, yer old ‘nough to make yer own mistakes.”

I snorted, failing to sound affect amusement, and turned away. “Since when?”

“Since Ah won’t be ‘round ta hold yer hoof no more. ‘Sides, Ah don’ fancy havin’ ya leave while we’re on bad terms. Ah gave Gray a piece of my mind, so that’ll have ta suffice for the both of ya.”

I hummed, once again failing to sound like I cared. Picking Dash up with my wings, I stood her up on my collar, looking up at her as she stood defiant on my chest. The indefatigable hero. “Aloe doesn’t share your pragmatism.”

Tracker clicked his tongue. “Aye. Ah was afraid of that.”

Another hum was already halfway out before I stopped and turned to stare at Tracker. “Wait, what?”

“You wanna close yer eyes ta what’s plain as the nose on yer muzzle, that’s yer choice, colt. Tain’t why I came by anyhow.” He dipped into his saddlebags, coming back out with what looked like a thick belt of leather, and placed it almost reverently on the mattress beside me. “Call it ah goin’ away present.”

I ignored it, instead glaring at him. “What they hay are you talking about? Close my eyes to what?”

Tracker pushed his stringy forelock behind an ear and sighed, sitting back on his haunches. “Ah’ve done mah darndest ta stay outta yer love life. Ain’t a pony e’er born who didn’t learn ‘bout love the hard way. Tain’t nothin’ I could do ta save you, nor anypony else, from the heartache an’ I ain’t in the business of wastin’ mah breath.”

“Way to deflect.”

“Lucky—”

“Don’t, Tracker… just don’t. Between getting socked by Hurdles, abandoned by Gray, and Aloe telling me to go to Tartarus, I’ve had one fucked up day. All I want is to figure out why everypony I care about is suddenly treating me like I’m a goddess damned leper!”

Tracker signed and placed a cracked hoof on my canon. “If Gray’s half the mare she plays at, she’ll speak with ya on the morrow. As fer the others, Ah ain’t certain what Hurdles’ is on about, but if Ah had ta guess, ah’d say it was ta do with Aloe’s crush on ya.”

That got my attention. I turned a look of total confusion on him. “Aloe’s what?”

“Ya heard me jus’ fine, colt.”

“Aloe does not have a crush on me. That is completely ridiculous.”

“Right, like Ah said, ain’t wastin’ mah breath.” He unrolled the bundle, unraveling straps to reveal a glistening pistol seated in a leather holster. “This is mah li’l life saver. Picked ‘er up durin’ mah first foray in the war.” I groaned and tried to hide under my wings. “Damn it, colt. This here’s important! There ain’t nothin’ Ah can do fer yer lover life, an’ since you ain’t doin’ squat about it neither, ya might as well listen! Now,” he paused to take a breath and calm himself down, “she may be more than two hundred years, but if ya treat ‘er right an’ she’ll do right by ya.”

I rolled my eyes but lacked the gumption to do anything else. Tracker fell right into his ‘teacher mode’ as he went over every last facet of maintaining and using the magic-pistol, and I listened… sort of. After what felt like an entire day, he finally shut up about the thing and made me try on the belt, the holster sitting snug against the front of my wither. The lecture then turned to the expedition itself, focusing on the more important survival techniques he taught me over the years. I paid about as much attention to that has I had to everything else.

It was nearing dinner time when he finally started to wind down. He sat back on his haunches and stretched, letting out a gaping yawn with no consideration for my eyes or nose. “Well, colt, Ah think that’s about all Ah can do for ya. Ah’d been hopin’ ta git more time with ya, but it’s been a hectic month.”

I started to nod but stopped short. “Month?”

Tracker nodded as he stood. “Seemed like somethin’ kept croppin’ up everytime Ah thought Ah had ah moment ta spare.”

“What do you mean a month?” I asked, getting to my hooves and glaring down at the ghoul from atop my mattress. “They only decided on who was going a week ago.”

“Ponyfeathers.”

++FoE:RB++

It was getting late, or so I assumed from the progressively dimming light outside my tent. I was laying on my bed, staring up at the PipBuck held above my head. The screen was open to that Crusades thing that had popped up earlier. Its incessant glow hurt my eyes a little, so much brighter than anything else in the tent. Selecting one of the Crusades, I completely failed to read any of the words that popped up.

I’d been depressed before, so I was fairly certain that I wasn’t that. Every other time I’d been depressed, it had been accompanied by a mixture of sorrow and anger. Not so much together as on a cycle, switching from one to the other with little apparent reason. The last time, and most of the times before that as well, was when my coltfriend dumped me, or, rather, left without so much as a goodbye.

I twisted the knob, selecting one of the other Crusades. The PipBuck clicked.

Gray Days: Fix relationship with Gray before leaving Dise.

Then again, maybe it was depression. I wasn’t a trained psychologist after all. If it was depression, than it was a whole new level for me. There was no pain, not that I noticed at least. Nor was there a fog of emotions vying for my attention. Everything was perfectly clear in my head. I just didn’t care, couldn’t make myself care.

Click

Jumping Gates: Re-establish friendship with Hurdles.

Numb: that’s what I felt. Completely and totally numb. It was an odd feeling, one I’d never had before. I’d always considered myself to be a fairly laid-back, carefree kind of pony, never taking things too seriously. But this, this was wholly different. If a raider chose that moment to barge into my tent and attack me, I couldn’t honestly say I would even put up a fight. Die today, die tomorrow, what did it really matter?

Click

Soothing Aloe: Repair relationship with Aloe before leaving Dise.

Existential crisis, maybe. I’d read about that somewhere.

Click

Expedition Evasion: Find a way off the Watcher’s expedition to the west of Dise.

I stared at that one for bit. A lot of thoughts ran through my head. I thought about my work, all the returning patients covered in the same wounds month after month. I thought about all the drug addicts who showed up to get clean, only to come back a few weeks later as high as ever. I thought about the casinos and the gangs who ran them. I thought about my friends, my ex-friends… I thought about Gray and Tracker. Lastly, I thought about my mother and the last time I ever saw her.

“Fuck Dise.”

Expedition Evasion: Find a way off the Watcher’s expedition to the west of Dise… Cancelled

++Fo:ERB++

“... nothin’ on him.”

“You shittin’ me?”

Blue Crush didn’t move. This wasn’t the first time that he’d woken up from being drugged. He’d learned quickly that it paid to let his captors think he was still asleep, giving him the opportunity to gather intelligence on them without their knowing.

“Naw, he ain’t got a single cap on him. He’s broker than we are.”

“Hey, that doc still payin’ for fresh organs?”

“Hey, yeah, I bet this fella’ll go for a pretty cap.”

Blue heard the distinct sound of a knife being pulled from its sheath and decided that it was time to act. His forehoof swung blindly at where he guessed the first voice should have been. He struck home and reveled in the distinct crunch of bone give way beneath his hoof. Using the momentum of his attack, he rolled onto his belly and stood.

Already, he could hear the rapid concussions of the second pony’s retreat. Normally, those sounds would’ve only spurred him into a chase, but not today. Opening his eyes proved to be a difficult proposition, crud and gunk holding the lids closed until he gave in and used a hoof to scrub them clean.

Blue Crush blinked in the dim alley light, moisturizing tears fogging his vision and making it difficult to take in his surroundings. Still, he could make out vague shapes and colors, and the weakness of his limbs was a far more pressing issue. It was almost as though they’d forgotten how to walk.

“Oi! Focker!” he bellowed at the unicorn groaning at his hooves. “‘Ow long ‘ave I been out?”

The nameless thug made wet gurgling noises as he tried to speak. Crush squinted, blinked, and rubbed his eyes a few times until he could actually see more than a dull green blob rolling on the rancid ground.

“Fock. I went an’ broke your jaw, I did. I’d say I’m sorry, but, well, dat’s what ya git fer tyin’ ta rob a bloak when ‘es down. Focker.” He kicked the unicorn’s ribs, making the attempted thief add side clutching to his repartee.

Blue Crush snorted and wandered out of the alley on wobbly legs, shaking them out every few steps to speed up recovery. His ear twitched at the increased noise as he trotted onto one of the main roads of Dise, the bright neon lights making his eyes water even more.

He stopped, noticing something was odd as his ears twitched about. Touching a hoof to the side of his head, it passed over the nub that used to be his ear.

“Fock!” he said, stomping for emphasis. “Fock, fock, fock!”

After a few more seconds of cursing, he turned into the street and started a canter toward the NCA headquarters at the east end of Dise, grumbling to himself about daemonic red mares and unfinished contracts.

*************************
Footnote:
Chapter 3 Progress: 100%

Level Up!

Current Level: 2

Skills Trained: Medicine, Speech.

New Milestone: Speech reached journeyman rank (50+)

Perks:

Love and Tolerance: You’ve never been picky in love, nor abashed about showing it. Mares, stallions, griffons, zebras, they’re all the same in your book… as long as their cute of course. You gain special dialogue options when speaking with anyone attracted to stallions—bonus points if they’re into pegasi. (There is no combat bonus from this perk.)

Equipment:

Tracker's Blaster: Due to constant, loving maintenance, this weapon might as well be fresh off the assembly line. (increased DMG and Durability)

Chapter 4-1: Leaving Home

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 4-1: Leaving Home

“Once you leave, there is no going back.”

The streets of Dise were empty, save the dark lumps that may or may not have been ponies stuffed into alleys. With the sun just on the other side of the horizon, the night owls had crashed, what energy they’d gained from their choice drug spent on their choice entertainment, and the early birds had yet to awaken, only different from their counterparts for the ‘a’ instead of a ‘p’. It was the only time of day when Dise paused, as though to take a breath, before barreling headlong back into the whirlwind of activity that was its normal state of being.

The hushed atmosphere was broken only by the clatter of Oracle’s hooves and those of his cadre. Five and one-half ponies and two zebras trailed behind him in a mixed state of discipline.

Only two of the ponies besides himself had any formal military training—only one of which acted like it. Whether Cross had had any military training before joining was not something Oracle had ever bothered to ask, but he would be surprised to learn that she hadn’t. Of the twins, Stock made an effort to appear every bit the soldier, unfortunately for him, Locke didn’t share his mindset. The resulting gait was one of awkward stops and starts as they wrestled for control. Carrot was… somewhere, likely tailing them, regardless, when he was needed he would be there—no matter how much Oracle would have prefered otherwise. The zebras where another matter altogether. Zefira Tandara kept pace well enough despite her age worn limp, while her companion, Knives, stayed vigilant at her side.

Nearing the Watcher’s fort, they were greeted by the muffled clatter of activity through the walls. Somepony was shouting orders, a mare by the timbre, with an almost constant murmur of grunts from those on the receiving end. It wasn’t until Oracle opened the personal door to one side that they were confronted with the true volume of the proceedings.

Outwardly, Oracle didn’t pay it much mind, his eyes moving smoothly over everything as he entered. Inwardly, however, he noted everything.

The wagons were impressive to a scale he’d not seen before. Built from a chassis of old boxcars, they were the largest mobile structures he’d seen put to use—most of the pre-war vehicles that came close being too far gone to be useable. Spots of steel glinted where the ancient red paint and rust had been stripped off with bits and pieces showing welding scars where whole sections had been transposed from other cars. Where once the original railroad wheels had sat, now four leg-width steel axles supported sixteen half-a-pony wide wheels. Easily four ponies tall, they seemed like wheeled monoliths towering over the workers scurrying about in their shadow. Four-pony leather and wood harnesses had been tacked to the front of each.

The commotion, while incorporating the wagons, was centered around a white coated unicorn mare standing atop a step ladder with a mane and tail of orange and purple, the former done up in a tight bun, the latter in a braid. A cloud of clipboards and swarmed about her head. Three quills zipped in and out on their way from one to the next. The mare afforded the show of impressive skill not a whit of notice, as though any pony could manage so many different objects in constant motion if they only bothered to try.

A small enchantment shimmered along her throat and carried her voice over the noise made by the herd of ponies working to her instruction. Beneath her gaze, boxes and crates were filled, labeled, and sealed before being whisked away to be stowed in one of three wagons, the majority going to the last.

Oracle trotted straight up to her and made his presence known by clearing his throat. Whether through pre-occupation or wanton disregard, the mare continued with her work and paid him no mind. Oracle frowned and stepped closer. He tried three more times to get the mare’s attention, only succeeding when he tapped her fetlock.

The mare glared down like a griffon perched over a field mouse, deciding how long to play with it before going for the kill. “Well?”

Oracle’s frown deepened. Cold annoyance settled in behind his eyes. He’d been on the receiving end of similar stares many times in his life, whether from griffons, minotaurs, or other ponies. His continued survival spoke volumes of how each of those encounters had turned out.

His face slackened, washed clean as his muscles relaxed and his eyelids drooped. “I was promised half a wagon to stow our gear.”

“Second wagon, back half.” With that, she turned back to her task, resuming as if there had been no disruption.

Oracle likewise dismissed her as he led the way to their new destination. He had not the time nor the energy to care. All that mattered was to get underway.

Ten paces later, he stopped, frozen by the sight before him. He’d been briefed on the water-wagons and their importance, but seeing them in first-hoof was a whole different experience.

Never before had he seen so much copper in one place. The giant cylindrical tank, easily three lengths long and two high, was strapped on its side to a steel chassis of four axles and eight wheels. The last half-length was a series of copper pipes and contraptions that lead to a single, lever operated spigot. What caught him the most, however, was the short, two-pony harness attached to the front. Water, contrary to what someponies believed, was not light, and the volume contained in that tank… he seriously questioned whether two earth ponies, no matter their bulk, could haul one of those for more than an hour, much less continuously for weeks on end.

Letting the thoughts slide to the back of his mind, Oracle continue forward. When the second water-wagon came into view he ignored it, instead hooking behind the indicated boxcar before he turned to face his employees.

Each of them already wore most of their gear, none managing anything that even approached a unified theme. That still left quite a bit of gear and ammunition loaded into a wagon being pulled by Appletosser—Carrot’s appearance on the brown stallion’s back failing to elicit any reaction.

“Irons, Locke, Stock, and Cross, get everything stowed and secured. Spoon, you pulled the short straw.”

Appletosser rolled his eyes before kicking the harness release and stepping away from the wagon. “Come on, Carrot, let’s go wrangle us a pegasus.”

The colt jumped forward and planted his forehooves in Spoon’s dark brown mane. “Can we use a lasso?”

Spoon chuckled as he started to walk away. “Do you have a lasso?”

“No.” Carrot’s disappointment only lasted a heartbeat. “What about…”

++Fo:E-RB++

I hate waking up. Everything about it just sucks. First there’s the confusion while transitioning out of a dream. Nothing’s worse than that moment when you realize that, no, you’re not actually an alicorn and, no, that pain in your forehead has nothing to do with the sudden addition of a horn. Then there’s the sudden temperature drop like your body refuses to produce any heat while you’re awake. And let’s not forget the light, because buck my eyes.

But the worst part, the worst part is how that hoof poking you in the side is never the newest member of your non-existant harem wanting your attention.

“Wakey, wakey.”

I groaned and rolled away, covering my face with a wing, desperate to reclaim my fading dream.

“Come on, stud, it’s time to get up.”

“Go buck yourself.”

“Whelp, I tried. Carrot?”

Every bit as big as Hurdles, the stallion wore a pleased grin on his light-brown snout, like he’d just won a bet. He was covered from neck to dock in dull steel plates, the overlapping segments giving it the appearance of scales. A much smaller orange colt laughed uproariously, rolling across the armour plating with an empty bucket held in his out stretched hoof.

“That was not funny!”

“‘Course it was. Never done it to a pegasus before. Do all of you jump that high when you’re scared?”

“I wasn’t scared. It was cold… and wet… and shut up!” I landed and began wiping the water from my face and mane. “What do you want?” He made no response, and when I looked up he was standing stock still with his lips pressed into a tight line. The colt on his back, however, was nearly vibrating. “Well?”

“You… you told him to… to shut up,” the colt managed before rolling back and nearly falling off to the floor.

I glared at the pair. “Oh, for the love of— that’s— really? Really?”

Finally, the brown mountain let out a bass chuckle and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist. You’re Lucky right?”

Shrugging, I said, “Maybe.”

“Right, well I’m Spoon, and this little imp,” he said, shrugging with his cannon to pop the colt into the air, “is Carrot.”

I stared at him with a blank look. “Spoon?”

“Yup.”

“S-P-O-O-N, Spoon?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Like the utensil?”

“Nope. Well, that’s enough of ‘Twenty Questions’. Time to pack your shit, Feathers. Hop to it.”

I almost tried to keep forcing the issue, but dropped and started picking up my stuff. There wasn’t all that much to grab. I still had Dash and I’d apparently fallen asleep with the Tracker’s pistol still strapped to my barrel. Everything else amounted to the few hundred caps I’d managed to save and some extra medical supplies that had found their way into my hooves over the years. It all fit nicely into a small bag that sat opposite the holster.

I paused halfway out of the tent and looked back. For a moment, I expected to feel something, like a sense of loss or maybe early nostalgia for all the memories that I’d made there. When nothing came, I shrugged and left.

++Fo:E-RB++

Tracker studied the mercenaries as they loaded their gear. He was too far away to pick out their voices amid the background noise, but that didn’t bother him; words were just the wind passing over a tongue.

More interesting to him were their dynamics. The short teal one with the fiery mane stood out immediately as the leader of the group. Like every good commander Tracker had known, he made himself the epicenter all the activity right from the get go, but it only lasted as long as was necessary, until he could pass responsibility to his lieutenant. At which point he stood aside and left to attend other matters.

In this case, the lieutenant was another unicorn, mint-green from mane to tail. Despite being a more average height for a unicorn stallion, the lieutenant lacked the weighty presence of his commander. Either the rest of the group respected him, or their commander, enough to follow without much trouble, Tracker wasn’t sure which. More important to him was the lieutenant’s own lack of certainty. It wouldn’t have been fair to say his movements were hesitant, but there was a lack of assuredness that spoke of little real-world command experience.

Most of the others he ignored as unimportant—even the conjoined twins. It was the zebra that stole most of his attention. He had no great love for the striped equines. Even after two hundred years, it proved difficult not to hold a grudge.

Thickly built, the zebra moved with a fluid grace that Tracker had rarely seen. He slipped easily between and around the others despite the weight of gear he carried. What truly stood out, however, was the way that none of them interacted with him. He might as well have been a ghost for all they seemed to notice him. He wasn’t the only one to go unengaged, but where he was a ghost, the red mare was a caged lion, everypony actively giving her more than enough space.

His ears perked at the unmistakable clop of approaching hooves. Whom ever it was, they were not trying to be stealthy. Even with so much advanced warning, he was still caught off guard when she spoke. That tone and timbre of her voice, that unmistakable accent, he knew what she was at the first syllable, and he wasn’t thrilled about it.

“Soldier of the Old War, I greet you most humbly.”

Something about her voice struck him, the last two hundred years weighing down on his joints like never before. Turning to face her became a choir, as though he were trudging through the swamps of southern Zebrica once again.

His ears proved true. Standing before him was another one of the Stripes. She was old. Wrinkles creased her muzzle like canyons in the Badlands. Her stripes had lost their color, fading away to a dark grey. Stiff dreadlocks hung about her face, decorated with numerous beads and baubles that shimmered and glinted in the light.

Tracker focused on her golden eyes. “Who are ya, and what do ya want?”

The zebress wore a small smile that showed the barest hint of white teeth and somehow managed to make her wrinkles that much deeper. “I am called Zefira Tandara and I wish only to speak of Lucky Sevens. I am informed that you and he share a relationship most close.”

“An’ what business of yers is it?”

Zefira’s demeanor didn’t change despite Tracker’s hostile tone and deepening frown. “Of your relationship? None. My concerns are of Lucky alone. Ponies are not to be trusted to provide information on themselves. Far more reliable are their close relations. Mrs. Gray has proven troublesome to locate and I have only so much time before we must depart.”

When Tracker didn’t respond, she continued, “Your trepidation is understandable, but unwarranted. As part of the contract between Colonel Farsight and myself, I am responsible for the health of any under his employ. There is knowledge I must obtain if I am to perform my duties.”

Tracker continued to glare at her. She shifted her weight, lifting the weight off her left side. He recognized the signs of arthritis in her movements, rotating hooves and flexing joints every few seconds, never keeping her weight on any one hoof for too long in the hopes of releaving the constant pain. An odd pang of sympathy resonated inside his rotted heart.

No matter how… inconvenient his own predicament was, the ravages of age were forever beyond him. Waking up as less-than equine had been a traumatic experience, but it had been quick and done, life marching on. Once he acquainted himself to it, it had become just another aspect of his life—granted, one that lasted far longer than he’d ever expected. A far more terrible fate awaited her. To wake up everyday with a little less control, joints refusing to move as they once had, muscles weak and shaking where they’d once been strong and sure. He could not even begin to imagine the horror.

But a pang was all it was, and shortly forgotten. “Be that as it may, y’all got plenty of doctors with ya and they’ll be able ta take care of the colt jus’ fine without yer help.”

He expected her to be annoyed, and would not have been surprised by offended. He got neither. “While I treat all manner of wound, it is his spirit which concerns me most. Ailments of the body are easy to find, far more difficult afflictions of the mind.” She paused there, a faint smile ghosting across her lips. “Leave your worries with me and cared for he will be. Or do not, and let the dice fall as they may.”

Tracker did not lose his glare. His expression, such as it was, remained rigged even as he spoke. “Ask yer questions.”

++Fo:E-RB++

“Lucky!”

I froze. My eyes closed, and I grimaced. I’d really, really wanted to skip this part. Slipping away without a word would have been so much easier. It wasn’t to be, and running away would only have caused problems.

Spoon stopped a few paces ahead when he noticed I wasn’t following. He turned to look at me, then at the pony who’d called my name. His expression begged for some kind of explanation. Instead I braced myself with a deep breath. Summoning a confident smirk from nowhere, I gave Spoon a ‘what can you do’ shrug.

With that, I turned and let every bit of warmth out of my expression. It was going to be hard enough without starting with any emotion. With everything locked behind a steel cage, my face betrayed nothing: a blank slate.

Gray saw it and flinched. Whatever she’d hoped for or expected, this was not it. Her hesitation was just that. Barely missing a step, her own face stiffening as she closed the distance between us.

She tried to force an intimate nuzzle. But I was having none of it. Pulling away, I contorted my wing to push her away before our cheeks could touch.

Gray’s hurt expression didn’t last and when she spoke it sounded more concerned than anything else. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as I could. “For the first time, everything is right.”

She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’ve figured it out.” Knowing what she was going to ask, I just kept talking. “I’ve never been happy here. Not with my mother, not with the Watchers, not anywhere in Dise. This place, this whole trash heap of a city makes me miserable. Why would I ever want to say here?”

Gray stepped back in surprise, with just a hint of fear around the edges. “What? What are you saying?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.” I pinched my brow and put on a frown of my own. “Nothing that you haven’t known for weeks.”

Previously alert ears wilted and her head dropped a few degrees as her surprise ebbed into hurt. “That’s not fair—”

“Fair?” I nearly screamed. That wasn’t part of the plan, but it should have been. “Fair! Don’t talk to me about fair! How can you claim to know anything about fair? Please tell me Gray, what have you lost that grants you any insight into what is and isn’t fair!”

And with that little triad, her ears swept back and her lips curled into the beginnings of a snarl. That was good, anger I could work with. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” I asked, lifting off and hovering to gain a few extra inches of height. “Cause from my vantage point, I’m the only one here who does. You still have a family. You still have friends and a home. I have nothing! My father was a rapist. My mother spent the short time I knew her higher than the moon and just when she starting to get better she died! Aloe and Hurdles both hate me and Tracker threw me under the wagon, and you didn’t stop him!” She started to say something, but I knew I couldn’t let her. “I have no friends. I have no family. I have no home. I have nothing!” Landing again, I stepped forward aggressively and she retreated the same. “I’m leaving. There is nothing to hold me her, so I’m leaving, and I won’t be coming back. Fuck Dise. Fuck the Watchers. And—”

I’d been slapped before. It happens when you let your mouth fly ahead of your brain. This was different. Gray put her body weight into it. My head snapped to the side, popping a kinck in my neck and cutting my cheek over my teeth.

“Bastard.”

I brought my head back around with a wide, predatory grin, blood collecting between my teeth. “Exactly.”

Gray fell back, her shocked eyes locked on my smile. I couldn’t read her expression, there was too much there. Horror stood out pretty clearly, though I wasn’t sure if it was from me or her own actions. Those few seconds lasted far too long before she turned and left, not quite fleeing, but not really storming off either.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the blood off my lip with a wing and swallowed what was in my mouth. That cut was going to be really annoying for a while.

I rejoined Spoon, only dimly aware that the colt was no where to be seen. He shot me a questioning look, to which I rolled my eyes. “Mares. Am I right?”

He didn’t give me the humored response I’d hoped for, instead shrugging before continuing to lead me onward. Neither of us spoke. I’m not sure why he suddenly seemed so somber, but I can’t say I wasn’t glad for it. It was better than him asking any questions.

The wagons were nothing new to me, I’d seen them during every stage of their production. Nearly everypony in the compound seemed to be there, gathered around the central wagon, looking up at the ponies standing on its roof. There were two unicorns up there that I didn’t recognize along with Caps Worth and… Echo?

What the Tar was he doing up there? He wasn’t going with us, that’s for sure. Maybe it was just for show. It would be just like him to do that too, attention whorse that he was.

Spoon deviated, skirting the edge of the crowd and leading us around to the opposite side of the wagons. We approached the middle wagon just as Caps Worth was getting started on some speech or another. Fortunately, whatever magic he was using to project his voice drowned it for anypony behind him. I really didn’t care to hear anything he had to say at that moment.

That’s when I met the third and fourth mercenary—if you count Carrot. They were backing out of the wagon’s rear door as we neared. It was only once they turned around that my brain slipped a gear and came to a grinding halt.

“Locke, Stock, this is Lucky. Lucky, meet Locke and Stock.”

“Hello, Lucky,” the mare said with a voice that could only be described as ‘peppy’. She wore a smile that fairly radiated innocences from her sparkling green eyes. Her light pink mane, parted down the middle to frame her muzzle, only served enhance the perception that she was a filly in a mare’s body. “I’m Locke, and that bump on my shoulder is Stock.”

His coloration was the same as hers, just in dark shades. Navy to her sky, purple to her pink. Though his long mane lacked the styling of hers, the largest difference was in their eyes. Where hers were filled with a youthful exuberance, his were callous amber orbs that found nothing worth smiling over. Indeed, as she introduced him, all he managed in the way of a response was a strange mix between a grimace and sneer.

They wore a set of light armour that looked to be made of tanned leather and steel plates painted to blend into the browns and tans of the open plains. Over top that, their battle-saddle supported a long rifle on their right side with a saddlebag on the left.

“Don’t mind him,” she added in a stage whisper, “he’s just a grouch in the mornings… and the afternoons… and the evenings… well, most of the time I guess. But whatcha gonna do?”

All of that had to take a number and wait it’s turn as I struggled to process what my eyes were saying they saw. Everytime the single was sent up, my brain rejected it and demanded that I try again.

“You’re… you’re…”

Locke giggled. “Siamese twins.”

My eyes started at her horn. “But you’re a unicorn.”

“Uh-hu.”

Then moved to his only wing. “And he’s a pegasus.”

“Yup.”

Shifting then to her muzzle. “And you’re a mare.”

“Last time I checked.”

And ending on his. “But he’s a stallion.”

She giggled again. “That’s debatable.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not possible,” I said, ignoring Stock’s indigent shout. “You’re not possible.”

She blinked in confusion. “I’m not?”

Stock rolled his eyes. “You’re right, we’re just figments of your overactive imagination. Can we move on now?”

“But, how?”

“The magic of birth, colt.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. You can’t be conjoined fraternal twins. It doesn’t work that way.”

Stock sniffed at the air. “Does anypony else smell smoke?”

“Don’t be mean. I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you do. You also thought Carmine was cute.”

Stock’s teeth clicked shut a half second too late to stop himself, his expression morphing into one that I recognized very well: the grimace of somepony who just bucked up big time. Locke bit her lip as her eyes fluttered, a hint of moisture shining through.

“If you’ll excuse us,” she said, with an impressive stability given her expression. “I need a moment to myself.”

They turned away without waiting for a reply, trotting out of sight in silence.

I turned to Spoon as I watched them leave. “Did I miss something?”

Spoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, colt. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Stock, you still…” The head of a mint-green unicorn—with a matching mane—poked out of the wagon’s door. “Oh. Hello there. You must be Lucky. Well, come in, come in. I don’t bite,” he said, ducking back inside.

Spoon nudged me toward the door. “Go on, he’ll get your gear all straightened out.”

I was about to protest, but realized that it would have been stupid; it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. Shaking my head, I did as I was told and trotted up the short steps into the wagon.

Empty, the wagon’s interior was wide enough for five ponies inside, six if they got friendly. This was not the case, however. Vertical and horizontal lockers lined every wall, save for the work bench shoved up against the back wall. That threw me off for a second. The back wall seemed to be far too close. Only once I looked closer did I realize that it was a divider, splitting the wagon into two separate compartments. Vents up near the ceiling let in a bit of natural light, though most came from the magelamps hung from the ceiling.

The ming-green unicorn stood in the middle of the ‘armory’ with a small grin. A suit of generic desert-pattern combat armour covered most of his body with a revolver holstered on either cannon. “Hi. I’m Solder Iron, but everypony just calls me Irons.” His eyes traced over me like he was checking me out. Despite everything, I couldn’t keep myself from smirking, maybe this trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all. A tingle of magic tugged on my wing, urging it out to full span. “Hmmmm... what are you, about a six? Seven?”

My confidence slipped a little, along with my smirk. “Huh?”

“Your size. Do you wear a six or seven? I’d guess six, but that might be a little tight. A seven will work, but the straps would have to be tightened all the way or it will be loose. You don’t want loose armor. Chafes something awful. Do you prefer light or heavy armor? No, don’t answer that, stupid question for a pegasus.

“Hmmm... If you take a seven then you can wear our old scouts armour. He seemed to like it well enough.” He pulled out an odd looking suit made out of a dark green, almost brown, scales. I’d never seen anything like it before. The different sections were held together with a large number of buckles and straps. “Let me just...” Magic touched my fur again, this time encasing Tracker’s holster and pistol, slipping them off and setting them aside. Then I felt a small weight lift from around my neck.

Everything went slightly out of focus, like looking through a fog. My ears folded back and a growl rumbled deep inside my throat. I glared at the unicorn, pulling my lips back to show teeth. My wings flared up, slicing the air and making me look as large as possible. His eyes widened in equal parts shock and confusion. Widening my stance, I crouched low, prepared to pounce.

Before I could do anything regrettable, a metal circle pressed hard against my temple, and I caught sight of a shotgun with its barrel touching my head just at the edge of my vision. “Calm down there buck, we’re all friends here.” I didn’t move, unwilling to let my guard down. The hammer clicked back. “Just simmer down now.” His voice was perfectly calm and steady, the moment of fear in his eyes all but gone. “I’d prefer not having to redecorate this place with your brains.”

I allowed myself to relax enough to show compliance without sacrificing readiness, my wings slowly sliding back to my sides.

“Drop. Her,” I growled through still grit teeth, my voice hard and ragged.

Confusion flitted across his brown eyes until they shifted to the figurine still gripped in his field. The aura around her faded, dropping her back into place against my barrel. My entire body slumped as my muscles went slack, tired from the short confrontation. My haunches hit the steel floor when my back legs gave out. I didn’t even care that the shotgun was still pressed against my head.

“Heheh... So, um, barding?” I tried with a nervous smile.

There is an awkward pause before he spoke. “Yeah...” he nodded slowly and moved the shotgun back to the rack it had been propped in, “barding.” The barding split apart in his magic and before I could protest it started flying around and attaching itself to me. A single piece strapped itself across my back and flanks, the chest piece slipping under Dash and attaching to the first. The rest were individual plates that cinched around my legs but left my joints free and unhindered. The whole process took less than a minute and ended with the unicorn looking between a shin guard and my pipbuck. With a shrug he tossed it back into the hooflocker.

“What is this?” I asked, stretching and shifting to let it settle.

“It’s Radgator hide. It’ll stop small arms fire and not much else.” His tone and the way he kept glancing at Dash told me that my little fit was not going to be swept under the rug. Without another word, he slung my holster back in place, sliding the straps through loops on the armour. “There you go. All suited up and ready to take on the Wastes.”

On a good day, I wouldn’t have been sure how to respond to that; his forced grin wasn’t helping either. I nodded and took a step back, but said nothing. The silence grew to an uncomfortable volume, only to be broken by muffled applause from outside.

“Looks like things are about to get underway. You should go meet up with the Commander before we roll out. I’m sure he has some things he needs to tell you.”

Nodding mutely again, I took the hint and left.

++Fo:E-RB++

Hurdles tried to listen to Caps Worth’s speech. Not because it would be interesting or because he cared, but because it seemed like the right thing to do. Once they left Dise, Caps Worth would be his boss, more-or-less, and ignoring the boss was not a great way to start.

Tonka groaned just loud enough for Hurdles to hear. “He really likes to hear himself talk doesn’t he?”

Hurdles ignored her.

“I mean, I get it. Big, important trip. First of its kind. Yadda yadda yadda. Let’s get going already. Am I right?” He couldn’t keep from glancing at the daisy-yellow mare. An earth pony like himself, her black mane was cropped short for a mare, any movement swept her forelock out from behind her ear to dangle between her eyes. She brushed it back. Noticing that she had his attention, she bobbed her hoof as though it were a puppet, silently mouthing Caps Worth’s speech as she bounced her head back and forth, sweeping the forelock across her eyes with each rebound.

“Shhh. I’m trying to listen.”

She stopped and gave him a look like he was the weird one. “Why? It’s not like he has anything worthwhile to say.”

“Because…” He trailed off as he realized that he didn’t have any particularly good reason beyond being polite, and he said as much.

“Polite? Hah! Polite would be not making us stand out here for his own vanity and ego.”

Hurdles didn’t respond, not because he couldn’t think of anything, but because it was that moment that he spotted Lucky walking behind a stallion that might have been as big as himself—it was hard to tell under that much armour. He snorted.

“Ah, your erstwhile best friend finally got out of bed.”

Opening his mouth to respond, Hurdles realized that he had no idea what erstwhile meant and wisely chose to remain silent, grunting instead.

“You don’t know what erstwhile means, do you?”

“Shut up, Tonka.”

She huffed and was quiet. For about two minutes, then she was back to whispering her nonsense. Hurdles could do little else but groan and bear it, waiting for it all to be over. To his relief, it only lasted a few more minutes. Caps Worth ended his little speech by thanking everypony who volunteered, with a special mention of Echo for stepping in to replace the recently bed ridden Humors, wishing the latter a speedy recovery.

With the speech done, everypony began to make their final goodbyes and to find their places for the march out of Dise. Before he could even start to head toward the last wagon to hitch up, a hoof tapped his flank.

Aloe stared up at him with a weak smile on her muzzle. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Tonka rolled her eyes, letting out an audible sigh that neither of them noticed. Rolling her eyes and sighing again for good measure, she excused herself because that was the polite thing to do even if nopony noticed.

“So… this is it.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“Me too.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

Aloe bit her lower lip. Her hoof kicked a pebbled as she pawed at the ground.

“Well, I better go.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Three seconds passed in silence before Hurdles finally turned and started walking away. Five paces later he stopped and looked over his withers, but Aloe was already lost in the crowd.

His head hung below his withers as he hitched himself to the wagon. Tonka was beside him, already hitched. She didn’t try to engage him, whether because she recognized his mood for once or felt too awkward, he was thankful for the peace.

The cheering farewells broke Hurdles from his thoughts long enough to start pulling. The first few steps were the worst, all four ponies digging their hooves into the dirt to break the inertia. Once the wagon started rolling, the momentum did most of the work, allowing them to fall into a steady, thoughtless gait.

++Fo:E-RB++

The two unicorns that had been standing next to Caps Worth were talking with Spoon, their backs to me, as I left the wagon. Both of them were wearing what looked to be modified combat armour, not too dissimilar to what Irons wore. The mare’s was dyed a vibrant red that matched her coat, two long barreled guns strapped across her back. Her mane and tail were golden braids with some odd device tied into her tail.

I took a wild guess that the shortish stallion with the fiery mane and teal coat was Oracle. The armour strapped across his back was nearly identical to Irons’, save for the equipment strapped to his back. The plating looked to have been removed, replaced by a series of small black boxes running from his withers to his dock. Dials, switches, toggles, and gauges adorned the sides with a number of antenna folded down on top. A black wire snaked up the side of his neck, connecting to the base of his horn like a nerve ending.

Before I could say anything, Spoon motioned to me and both unicorns turned around. I was struck dumb. Something about that mare was off and not a little bit. Scars criss-crossed her muzzle, twisting the red hairs to grow at odd angles that made looking anywhere but her eyes uncomfortable. Not that her eyes were any better. Blue and intense, they were emotionless pits of apathy, callus and empty. When my eyes dropped, they were snagged right back to her throat. She was wearing a silver collar like I’d never seen before, half a hoof wide with a glowing red light at her hollow. More than anything else, her Cutie Mark, silver collar on a gold leash, sent shivers down my spine.

Her mouth twisted into something that was neither a frown nor a smile. I took an involuntary step back.

“Lucky Sevens,” Oracle commanded more than said, snapping my attention off the mare at his side. “I am Oracle, and this is Cross.” She snorted. “It would be nice to train you properly, but we don’t have the time, so you’ll just have to learn as we go. For now, that means doing what you are told. Is that going to be a problem?”

“I… uh… No, sir?” I said, not quite recovering.

He frowned at that, but didn’t comment, instead saying, “For now, stay with Spoon.” Looking back at the aforementioned stallion—who wasn’t looking all that happy about the last bit—he said, “Bring him up to speed. Where did Locke and Stock go?”

Spoon nodded then shrugged, pointing off in the direction they’d gone. Oracle’s expression didn’t change as he glanced back at me once more, nodded sharply, then turned to leave. Cross eyed me for a moment with the disapproving expression she’d been wearing the entire time. With another hard snort, she followed after Oracle, keeping a half stride back at his side.

My gaze hadn’t left the retreating mare when Spoon’s hoof patted my withers like a falling tree. “Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me, Colt.”

++Fo:E-RB++

Stuck was definitely an appropriate term. For the next few minutes, while everypony else was busy making the final preparations, Spoon droned on about how everything worked. Chain-of-command: Oracle, Irons, Zefira, and himself. He told me about the other two that I hadn’t met yet, both zebras. Zefira the witch-doctor/shaman/mystical-healer/whatever, and her companion Knives. When I asked where they were, he made a noncommittal gesture, brushing it off as unimportant.

Then we started moving.

I remember being told once that the first step of a journey is the most difficult, but I barely noticed it. There was a cheer from the crowd, grunts from the pull teams, and Spoon and I started to walk.

My eyes stayed front and down, save for the occasional glance to the sides. I couldn’t help it. I was still mad and hurt, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of my head. Even with everything that had happened in the past few days, they were still as much of a family as I’d ever had.

My furtive peeks at the crowd proved futile. None of them were there.

I searched and found so many familiar faces. Faces I had seen just about everyday for the past two decades, part time friends and longtime acquaintances. I looked between the wagons to the other side. More familiar faces rolled past as we continued on. A blur of yellow brought me to a halt and sent my heart up into my throat. As I opened my mouth to call out she pushed her orange mane out of her eyes and the wagon moved between us.

Spoon’s tail whipped my cannon and started me moving again. The open gates to the compound loomed before us. We walked on and I searched until I stepped through the threshold.

I turned my head, looking back over my withers at the gate. I walked and watched as the opening shrunk before me. The finality of this crashed down on me when the gate hit the ground. I knew that this would only last a few months, then I would be back with a saddlebag full of stories. And yet there was a sense that I was never coming back, that I would never see the inside of those walls again. I wouldn’t be the same pony. Even if nothing happened, if everything went perfectly and I returned unscathed…

This should have been a profound moment. I should have uncovered some truth that had been hiding just beyond my sight, but if there was some epiphany to be had it was lost on me. All I felt was confusion.

I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t stay, not anymore. It was my home; everything I knew was inside those walls.

I wasn’t some colt bursting at the seams to have an adventure; only idiots want to be heroes. I wasn’t a wimp who needed to prove his worth; my worth was written in the flesh of the ponies I’d saved. I wasn’t some egghead looking to ‘find myself’; I knew who I was. I was Lucky Sevens: part time doctor, full time lay about. I was a confirmed bachelor and mare’s stallion all wrapped into one.

For the first time, I realized how much I didn’t belong, didn’t want to belong behind those walls. I hated that place, but it had been my home. I’d never fit in, but I’d been accepted.

Then we turned a corner.

And I felt nothing.

*************************
Footnote:
Chapter 4 Progress: 50%

Equipment:

Rad-Gator Armour (light): Made from the tanned hide of a rad-gator, this armour is lightweight and flexible, perfect for pegasi and griffons.

Chapter 4-2: Leaving Home

Author's Note

Okay, I've been sitting on this for weeks because I don't like it. There are a number of little problems that I can't seem to smooth out and I've gotten to the point were I either post it and move on or give up... and I ain't giving up. So here it is.
I'm sorry.

Chapter 4-2: Leaving Home

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 4-2: Leaving Home

“Once you leave, there is no going back.”

I’d never been much of a flier by pegasus standards. It was a convenience that I definitely took advantage of, but I didn’t really get trying to stay airborne all the time. It was no easier than walking, and since nopony else could join me… it just made sense to stay on all four most of the time.

Then I left Dise.

Oracle found me almost the instant we stepped outside the Parasprite Mound and began drilling me on my flying habits and everything I knew about flying. He bombarded me with technical questions that flew right over my head and left me feeling like a nest couped colt. He was not impressed and decided that I needed to begin an immediate trial run to see exactly how long I could stay airborne.

Not a mile into the Wasteland and I’d already been in the air for longer than I could remember.

It was odd. At the start I wasn’t particularly happy about Oracle’s order. Flying until I couldn’t fly anymore was not something I looked forward to. Not that I really put up a fight over it. Oh, I moaned and complained, made myself look sympathetic and what not, but I didn’t put any real effort into it. It wasn’t hard to tell that Oracle wasn’t the type to be persuaded by such play acting, and I did it more for myself than him.

So, I flew. I climbed into the open sky. I pushed past the tallest buildings in Dise and kept going. Soon, I was high enough that I couldn’t hear or smell anything from the ground. That’s what did it, I think. Wind filled my ears. Clear crisp air filled my lungs. There was this pleasant emptiness that occupied my mind and lulled me into a sort of daze.

The air was so malleable at that altitude. With each downstroke it became almost rigid, a solid mass against which my wings pushed. Only to disappear altogether with each upstroke, my wings snapping to glide without the slightest effort. From there I could soar for meters before I needed to repeat the motion. After the first few minutes, I didn’t have to think about it anymore. Like breathing, my wings already knew what they needed to do. It was relaxing in a way that I didn’t realize flying could be.

I sailed.

I soared.

And I completely zoned out.

It had to be an hour or two when a muscle in my right wing twinged. On reflex, it curled to my side, folding even as my left continued on, unabated.

I lost control.

One moment, I was coasting along without a care, the next, I was a corkscrew on a rapid descent toward the unforgiving hills.

Spinning like a bullet, I made the mistake of trying to do a full correct right off by throwing both my wings out wide. The loss of more than a few feathers showed me the error of my ways, and I slammed my wings shut. Still spiraling like a top, I pushed my wings out gradually, twisting them and forcing the air to flow the way I wanted. Before long, I stabilized and leveled out, only then beating my wings to regain the lost meters.

After that, I started paying a little more attention to everything.

Besides the ache in my wings and back, the first thing I noticed was how far off course I’d gone. It shouldn’t have been much of a shock. I mean, I’d pretty much let the air currents guide my flight for the previous hour or two. Why I found that funny, I’m not sure, but apparently I did because I started chuckling. It never became anything more than that, but it lasted for a solid ten minutes before settling into a content smile.

The landscape outside of Dise was rocky and bleak. Maybe back east things were more lively, but to the west everything was hard and brown, like life had never really tried to get a hoofhold in the first place. Were it not for the broken road that the caravan followed, it would have looked like nothing more than a brown version of the grey clouds overhead.

It was almost dark before I finally returned to the ground. I was probably more surprised about that than anyone else. Staying aloft for the entire day had sounded like so much effort at first, but, aside that one incident, it’d been a cakewalk. My wings were sore, no doubt about that, and I’d be feeling it in the morning, but it was no more taxing than if I’d walked the entire day instead.

The wagons rolled off the road as I circled, descending in a slow spiral. The five wagons did much the same, coming to rest just off the road in a large circle, like some kind of mobile fort. A small fire was just being lit in the center as I reached the wagon tops and trotted to a stop outside.

Oracle and Cross were waiting for me when I touched down. Our conversation consisted entirely of questions: ‘How did I feel? Would I be able to do that every day? How much longer?’ and so forth. I answered as best I could. Once he was satisfied Oracle told me to get some rest because ‘tomorrow, the real work begins’.

++Fo:E-RB++

Cold splashed across my face, shocking me out of sleep and sending me jolting to attention. Certain that I was about to drown, I gasped and flailed in a useless attempt to escape the waters assaulting me, succeeding only in falling gracelessly to my back.

The sharp sting of soap burned my eyes and curdled my tongue as Spoon laughed uproariously. “Always a classic!”

Gagging and spitting, I dragged my teeth over my tongue, failing to remove the horrid taste out of my mouth. Though the nasty water wiped easily from my face, it left behind a soapy film that wasn’t any better.

The stinging in my eyes made it difficult to glare at Spoon, but I managed. “I hate you.”

“Aww, come on, Feathers. Hate’s a strong word. ‘Sides,” he waved a hoof as though dismissing the whole thing, “what did I ever do to you?”

I was about to berate him on being a complete asshole when a slight snicker from behind me gave up the game.

Rolling onto my hooves, I came nose-to-nose with the real perpetrator. “You think that was funny, do ya?”

Carrot couldn’t even meet my eyes, his laughter finally taking the reins. The small, tin bucket he’d been holding dropped alongside himself, both rolling side-to-side.

I pressed my ears back and knit my brow. My tail swished once, hiked up and tense. With an expression that screamed ‘this is serious’, I stood over him, caging his head between my forelegs, and said, “Of course you know, this means war.”

“Ha! Sounds like you’re going to have to watch your back, Carrot. You might’ve met your match.”

To my annoyance, Carrot didn’t seem all that concerned. With a smug grin, he rolled under me and bolted away, shouting, “Gonna have to find me first!”

Too slow, I spun to take off after him… only for Spoon to snatch my tail and yank me back to the ground.

“Hey!” I shouted, rubbing my sore rump.

“There’ll be time for play later. But right now, the commander wants to talk to you, so get your flank in gear.”

I started to protest, but my body decided that that was as good a time as any to remind me about the previous day’s flight. It began with an ache in my wings so deep that I would have sworn they’d fallen off. Not to be outdone, my back made its own protests known with a tightness that made it impossible not to open and close my wings no matter how much each movement hurt. Just like that, the prospect of even hovering became a prelude to torture.

“Goddesses! Why does it hurt?” I groaned, moaning in supplication to any deity who would make it stop. For those first few minutes, I seriously considered that it might be less painful to simply hack them off.

“Don’t even think about it, Feathers,” Spoon said, forestalling my attempt to lay back down. “You’re not the only one who would much rather be in bed. Oracle wants to see you. Now.”

The look in his eyes told me that there was no way to win that argument, and I got the distinct impression that he wanted me to try anyway. Clicking my tongue, I decided to disappoint him.

He tried to hide his disappointment at my unenthused nod—failed, but tried—before leading the way as though I needed an escort.

Then again, it would have taken me a while to find him, I guess. I’d expected him to be inside the wagon circle, not sure why, it just seemed like the place to be. Instead, he was on the eastern side, sitting with his back to the caravan and facing Dise. A bowl of porridge sat beside him with a spoon held in his magenta field. Cross was there too, laid out on her side with her braided tail curled around her thigh, she rested in about as lewd a posture as she could without displaying herself outright. To be honest, however, the book propped up before her drew my eye more than anything else. The title was faded beyond recognition, but it was easily a half-hoof thick.

“Lucky,” Oracle started, drawing my attention away from Cross, “did you sleep well?”

Despite the how early it was, I was awake enough to start thinking clearly. It only took me a moment to decide how I wanted this conversation to go. This was my foreseeable future, after all. No need to fuck it up right off the bat by being flippant. Forcing my whole body to relax and take on a respectful tone, I engaged my adversary.

Taking an extra second to examine him, I could tell that something was off; his ears were too tense, jaw tight and eyes crinkled. That was all I had to work with.

“I’m sorry,” I said, making sure to add in a pinch of genuine contrition.

Oracle smirked at that but didn’t turned to face me yet, nor did his face loosen. “Tomorrow you will wake up on your own. You may be my responsibility, but I am not your foalsitter. For the duration of this expedition, you are under my employ. As such, your actions reflect on me and mine. I do not take well to ponies staining my reputation.”

I continued to watch him as he spoke. The smirk had yet to leave his lips, but that didn’t change how serious he was. Letting my ears droop a fraction—certain that he could see it—I feigned as though I’d taken the light scolding to heart.

“I will do my best,” I hedged. I was almost certain that he wouldn’t go for it, but it was worth a shot.

“Either you will on your own, or I’ll let Cross be the one to wake you up every morning.”

The threat came out too clean. His timbre didn’t rise or fall a hair, nor did his ears or tail twitch, none of his muscles tensed or relaxed. My eyes flickered to the mare, her gaze fixed on me with a predatory gleam. I took a step back without realizing it.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” he said after swallowing another bite of his porridge, still facing Dise. “Go see Irons about communications, then get yourself some breakfast, you’re going to need it.”

++Fo:E-RB++

After being dismissed by Oracle, Spoon and I went into the circle to get breakfast.

Most of the Watchers were either busying eating or packing, some unicorns managing both. Rose Blossom was dishing out the porridge, passing the wooden bowls to every pony with a smile. Or she was until I came to get one. She leveled a not at all subtle scowl at me and nearly broke the bowl and ladle when she slammed my serving in it.

I was honestly confused at first. I’d never done anything to her directly, or indirectly for that matter. Then I remembered how close she was with Gray. That, of course, reminded me of everything else that had happened over the last few days.

My mood sufficiently soured, I plopped down next to Spoon and set to eating the bland, mush of porridge. Spoon talked at me, and I nodded along, keeping my mouth occupied with food.

By the time we finished, the Watchers were all but packed up, stowing the last of the tents away as the pull teams hitched themselves up to the wagons.

I spotted Hurdles through the crowd, with Tonka at his side, but looked away before we could make eye contact. There was no way I was ready to deal with that mess.

Leading me to the armory, Spoon mounted the steps to open the door. A fuzzy, crackling zap preceded a cry of pain, muffled by the thick metal walls. Irons flew through the wall, passing it by like a ghost, and tumbled to a stop three lengths beyond… hovering a half-length in the open air.

My eyes shifted between the not at all destroyed wall and the mint green unicorn leaning against nothing but air, then back and forth again. Try as I might, I couldn’t accept what I was seeing. Unicorn’s don’t float on air, and they most definitely do not pass through walls like they weren’t even there.

The door to the wagon swung outward, and Irons slumped onto Spoon’s knees—the other one mirroring his movements perfectly. Scorch marks blackened his otherwise mint coat, tiny sparks flashing off the short hairs, all of which seemed to be standing on end.

For the first time in my life, I was grateful that ponies were herders. Rather than worry about it, I allowed my instincts to ‘follow the leader’ take over. Since Spoon and Irons didn’t seem to find anything odd or even noteworthy about there being a second, floating Irons, neither did I.

“That looked like it hurt,” Spoon said, offering Irons a hoof.

“I forgot to disconnect the power crystal…”

“Again?”

His cheeks flushed, an arc of lightning sparking down his mane. “Yeah…”

Spoon whacked him upside the head, though there didn’t seem to be any force behind it. “One of these days Irons…” Sighing, he nudged the smaller unicorn back toward the wagon. “Oracle wants you to get Feathers here linked-up.”

“Really?” He glanced around Spoon to look me up and down, “Already?”

“Already.”

“The whole kit ‘n kaboodle?”

“The whole nine yards.”

“The whole shebang?”

Out of the corner my eye, the second Irons disappeared.

“Lock, stock, and barrel.”

“The works?”

“Bit and bridle.”

“The… damn it, I got nothing.”

Spoon chuckled, patting the unicorn’s back. “Ah well, maybe next time.” Backing out, he asked, “You got this?”

“Yep, see you around.”

“Once Irons gets you squared away, Oracle is going to expect you to be up in the air,” Spoon said to me as he started moving away. “See you tonight.”

I shook off everything that had just happened and nodded. What ever that was obviously had nothing to do with me.and waved him off with a wing before turning to Irons, failing to pick up on what he’d just said. Irons motioned me to join him in the armory.

“Here, these are for you.” A pair of flight goggles, wrapped in his golden aura, floated out of a box. “I meant to give them to you yesterday, but...” His eyes drifted to Rainbow Dash.

“Heheh... yeah... ” My wing scratched the back of my neck. “About that… look, I-”

“Don’t worry about it” he said, turning his attention to one of the other hooflockers, “it was my fault. You live, you learn. We all have our little quirks. Forgive and forget, life’s too short in the Wastes. Well?” The goggles jiggled in his magic.

I took the goggles in hoof and examined them. They didn’t seem to be anything special. Just a pair of thick plastic lenses inside airtight frames. I slipped the strap behind my head and slid them over my eyes. I had to tilt them back to let out some pressure before replacing them.

It felt a little awkward at first. The pressure around my eyes was something that would take some getting used to. A few scratches adorned the edges of the lens, but it was nothing that interfered with my vision. “I’ll give ‘em a shot.”

“That’s good. The last owner definitely doesn’t need them anymore.” Huh? “But that isn’t why you’re here. The commander wants you linked-up. Ah ha!” He held up a small box. Polished to a shine, the dark wood glinted even in the weak light from the magelamps. Opening it, he revealed a silky, cloth interior that contained a number of small devices about half the size of a cap.

I lowered the goggles and let them hang just about Dash, giving them a skeptical look. “What are those?”

“Oracle calls them ‘Blu-horns’. They’re Arcano…” He lost me after that. I was no stranger to complex terminology, the Watchers made sure of that, but this was beyond me. Once he finished speaking and saw my look of bemusement, he rolled his eyes. “Tiny radios you stick in your ear.”

“Ah.”

“Yes… Ah.” He rolled his eyes again, muttering something I didn’t bother to listen to. “Here.” One of the ‘Blu-horns’ rose in his field and into my left ear.

I waited a few seconds, then asked, “So, how does it work?”

He shrugged. “I just build them. The commander does the rest.”

“Really? So what? I just—”

“Sevens.”

“What?” I jumped and turned left, looking for whoever just spoke. “Who said that?”

“That would be the commander. You should probably listen to him.”

“We are leaving in ten, I want a forty-five degree arc, three miles ahead. Got that?”

“Can he hear me?”

”Yes. Now, I suggest you get moving.”

“Right. See you around, Irons.”

He waved goodbye as I stepped outside. “Have fun.”

++Fo:E-RB++

I’d finally found it. The one thing that had been missing from my life. I’d reveled in it. Everything before had been a poor substitute, a mockery, painted up to try to fool me. I’d finally seen them for the lies they had been. It was what life was meant to be. No restrictions, no limitations, just pure unadulterated freedom.

The joy. The exhilaration. The wonder. It’d been like my first time all over again.

And then, in the space of a single day, it became a job.

On the first day, I’d been able to simply fly. To let my wings carry me across the sky. All of my attention was focused on the experience, with no thought to where, when, or why.

After that it became work; worse, it was boring work.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. Compared to the previous day, I had to pay attention to where I was flying and the ground below. It required me to at least do something. Then I remembered that I had a Pipbuck that made it all too easy to spot anything that might be hostile. Once that happened, well, it all just fell apart from there.

I’m sure I wasn’t doing things to Oracle’s preference, but I didn’t really give a damn. I’d been reduced to a pair of eyes flying ahead of the caravan to search for non-existent potential threats.

It was the worst kind of boring, too. That boring where you have to pay attention in only the most visceral sense. Any less and you could be napping, any more and it might actually be engaging, and how terrible would that be.

So there I was, third day on the road, cruising along high above the ground, making another pass over a strip of land that was identical to the previous strip of land that was identical to the previous strip of land, so forth and so on… when I decided to take a break. Not a nap, though goddesses know I would have liked one. Just a break, five minutes or so of doing what I wanted. I figured I could defend it as necessary to keep my ‘attentiveness at optimal levels’ or something.

I broke off my lazy flight and soared up, gaining altitude quickly with each pump of my wings. The flight goggles made a big difference. No longer was my speed regulated by the pressure on my eyes. No, I could now go all out without a second’s thought.

So I did.

Reaching the lower cloud level, I leaned back, spun around, and went into an almost vertical dive. Those few seconds at the top, where I stopped moving and gravity is just about to catch up, where I am completely and totally weightless. There is no wind there, no pressure, I close my eyes and there is no light. The world is too far away for sound… I am alone. There is nothing except for me. No caravan, no Oracle, no Hurdles, no Gray…. and it is wonderful.

And then gravity sunk in its claws and I started to fall.

Falling, I rise again.

When I reach the ceiling again, I do something I’ve never done before. One extra flap and I touched the clouds.

My eyes widened in shock as I pulled my hoof back and brought a clump of cloud with it. It was fluffy. Soft and springy in an insubstantial way. At the same time it was squishy and almost moist, like fresh mud or clay. A smile crept across my face as I played with it, a thousand ideas began storming my brain all at once.

“What are you doing?” an angry voice whispered in my ear, pulling me back out of my own head.

“Uhm... nothing.” I cringed, knowing that that was the wrong thing to say.

“And what are you supposed to be doing?”

“Scouting ahead for any signs of danger.” Letting the bit of cloud go, I stopped flapping and fell.

Below and behind, I could see the caravan as it trudged along beside the old railway tracks. Though I couldn’t pick out one individual pony, I could easily imagine Oracle standing on one of the wagons and glaring at me through a pair of binoculars.

”Then I suggest you get to it.”

“Ten-four, boss.”

With that, I spun, dove, and rocketed ahead once again.

A few hours later, the whole caravan slowed to a halt for lunch.

While I probably should have gone back to eat, I really didn’t want to. Between the exercise and heat, I just wasn’t feeling the extra two miles—each way—trip. After informing Oracle, I lazed around the higher, and cooler, altitudes for a few minutes. The thermals up there were enough to keep me afloat without much effort, and I probably would have stayed up there if I hadn’t noticed a nice, shaded outcropping just off the train tracks we’d been following.

It looked like a wonderful place to take a nap until the caravan started rolling again.

Then I learned why you never, ever, fall asleep in the Wasteland.

++Fo:E-RB++

Everything about the little camp North of Dise proclaimed its militaristic nature like the stink of a skunk. Tiny, two pony tents—save for the last which was more akin to a canvas house than a tent—sat in nice, neat little rows. There was hardly a hint of idleness to be found. Not a single one of the gits was taking a moment to themselves that wasn’t in some way a duty or task set out by a superior.

It would have made him sick, if he’d bothered pay it any mind. Who want’s to be sick when there’s a nice piece of flank swaying three paces forward and a half step to the right?

Blue Crush took in every minor detail for later consultation, the particular way her hips moved from side-to-side with each step, how her bound tail sat just so—hinting but never showing, how the hairs of her coat coalesced at the back of her legs, swooping together into ridges like mountains on a map disappearing behind that tail that just wouldn’t get out of the way.

She was a burgundy color, rich and dark, with a short cropped mane of pink. Unicorn, maybe, he’d have to check again to be sure… not that it mattered. Either way, she was strong, her muscles shifting under her coat with every step. She wore a uniform, it was desert camo, and her Mark was… something military related.

He almost ran into her when she stopped. “Wait here.”

With that, she slipped into the tent, leaving Blue Crush to turn and glare at the army buffoons.

Thankfully, it didn’t last long. The mare, a unicorn indeed, exited seconds later with another unicorn filly in tow. No, it was a colt, an effeminate little thing to be sure. Cream coated with a vibrant red mane, he was an officer of some level, based on his dress, but Crush didn’t catch the rank on his collar.

The mare stood just outside the tent opening, holding back the canvas. “He’ll see you now.”

“Roight,” he said, stepping forward only to pause. “Offer still stands ifin ya wanna good ruttin’.” When she didn’t reply with anything more than a stern glower, he shrugged. “Roight, ifin ya change ya mind…” He gave her a toothy grin that only caused her to growl.

Stepping inside, he was unsurprised to find the tent filled with furniture. Directly in front of him, a large folding table was covered with books and papers. At the back, a collapsible cot took up the left corner with two trunks along the right wall. There were no seats for visitors.

An older stallion, earth pony, with a dirty green coat, greying black mane, and a severe face that had more in common with a moss covered boulder than a pony muzzle, sat behind the desk. His army uniform was a stiff, light tan color without a single hint of dirt.

He didn’t look up as Blue Crush entered. Instead, his focus remained on the book before him. A pen, held between his teeth, moving in harsh lines across the open page.

Blue hated this part. It was a game, a show of power and control, of which he had none. The curse of a working stallion was being at the beck and call of those who had the caps. He’d been a part of this particular dog ‘n pony show before. Ignore the merc to make sure he knows his place.

Finally, Lock Step set his pen aside, closed the book, lifted his gaze, and placed both forehooves together on the table. “So, Mr. Crush, I understand you have a message for me.”

“Aye, ‘at I do.”

“The floor is yours,” the general said, leaning back and motioning with his forehooves.

Blue Crush didn’t mince words as he explained what had happened the days before, his partners death, being captured, and Oracle’s message. When he got to the end, Lock Step had him repeat the message word for word five times, a griffin’s grin pulling his lips further each time.

Lock Step snatched a piece of paper and began to write, ignoring Blue as though he’d never been there. He watched the general put pen to paper in a frenzy until he decided that enough was enough. “There’s one more thing.”

Lock Step glanced up, but didn’t stop writing even as he spoke around the pen. “Yes?”

Twisting his neck, Blue Crush undid the straps of his saddlebags and dropped them onto the desk. A few caps bounced out of the loose flaps, scattering across the desk and falling to the dirt. Lock Step stopped writing finally, giving him a questioning glance.

“W’as left of yer payment.”

With a hoof, Lock Step flipped open one of the flaps and peered inside. “So you’ll not be joining us?”

“Whot? Fock no. I ain’t want to go stompin’ off, chasin’ after some git and ‘is bitch. Already lost one ear, ain’t lookin’ ta lose another.”

Lock Step watched him as though he’d never seem something quite like him before. Then he shrugged and turned back to his paper. “Good day.”

It was Blue Crush’s turn to supply the curious look. He almost spoke once or twice, but thought better of it. Instead he nodded, more to himself than Lock Step, and left.

Outside the tent he paused to take in his surroundings again before walking back toward Dise, whistling tunelessly as he went.

*************************
Footnote:
Chapter 4 Progress: 100%

Equipment:

Blu-horn: A small, ear mounted communication device designed by Oracle and Irons. You have no idea how it works, but, as useful as it is, you’ll probably learn to hate it.

Intro

For Nurse Gray

You are the wind beneath my wings.

War, war never changes. Somepony told me that when I was a colt, I didn’t understand it at the time: I do now. I thought it was about armies and nations, battles and banners: It’s not. Later, when I grew up, I thought it was about the unending cycle of violence forced upon everypony living in the Wasteland: I was wrong.

War isn’t about nations, it has nothing to do with sides or ideals or money or land. War isn’t about survival or protection or conquest. War is about ponies. It’s about the choices we make, it’s about how we fail and fall; how we succeed and rise. War never changes because we never change. We try so hard to do what we think is right; we grasp onto these... things called nations and ideals and we lie to ourselves. We create an Us and a Them and as long as there is an Us and a Them there will be conflict, and conflict always leads to war.

The harsh truth is that the war, the Great War, was inevitable. If it hadn’t been the zebras it would have been the griffons or the dragons or, failing that, it would have been ourselves.

Because war, war never changes.

Some nights I lay awake wondering if I could have saved them. I wonder if the choices I made were the right ones, if the choices I made even mattered, or was this the inevitable outcome; the only difference being that somepony else would be sitting here telling their story instead of mine. I don’t have an answer to that. It doesn’t matter in the end. I am here, and everything has fallen to me. I don’t have a choice anymore– if I ever really did. Even now I would turn away if I could, I would leave it all behind. But there are things more important to me now. The future matters, her future matters... and I can’t afford to leave that in another pony’s hooves.

Now I stand upon the precipice, the key to everything in my hoof, and I hesitate. I wonder. Would not be better to let it all fall away? To give in and end the cycle… but I am nothing if not selfish. I look upon her, and I know that I will never surrender.

War never changes, because war... war is our hope for the future.