Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to either MLP:FIM nor Fallout. Fallout: Equestria is the work of Kkat, to whom we owe this awesome extended universe of fiction. Long live Kkat, long live FO:E, long live Scootaloo. … What?!
Prologue – 'And he's the ones who likes all our pretty songs'
If I have to tell you my story, I have to start from the middle. Well, not really the middle. Just, from the event that began to branch it all off, you know? This is not a biography, there's no need to tell you about me from the day of my birth. Not in chronological order. And this isn't only my tale. This is a story, and like most stories, it usually starts in media res, like zebra say. In this case?
It starts with me waking up.
-I-
"Sleep. The great unifier, ain't it?" I stood still as it slithered around, brushing his tail against my discolored tuft of hair before settling for sitting in front of me, on the other side of table. "No matter the bodily accessory or lack thereof, if their flank is decorated or not, executioner or victim, everypony finds solace in slumber. In dreams." I jerked my head to the left to not stare at its smirking face. "And yet, you prefer my company to dreaming. What does that say about you?"
"You're annoying." I clicked my tongue, keeping my gaze away. I'd learned long ago. Ignoring it. Tuning it out. The only way to not let it get on my nerves.
"I hope so. The day I'm not even a nuisance to you anymore is the day I truly die. Fortunately, I have plenty of confidence in my ability to tick you off." I narrowed my eyes. He was gloating. What kind of pony-no, not a pony, and not a he- gloats in its ability in being a thorn in the hoof? The one living in my head. That's who-what!
I couldn't ponify it. Not even with grammar. I had to keep it alien, an unwanted passenger, to ignore at best, to loathe and hate at worst, but I had realized long before that even negative ones were still feelings. Feelings are for people. Feeling are for ponies, zebras, hell even Hellhounds. It didn't deserve feelings. It couldn’t have feelings. Not my feelings. Bad enough that it had my thoughts.
"Now, now, Tombstone. Don't change the subject. Why do you walk my nothingness, instead of lulling your sleep with dreams?" That was usually the time I shut my eyes, feigning sleep. While being already asleep. I know, ridiculous. It seemed a good idea, and at least I couldn't see its face any more. "What do you fear? What does your subconscious conjure from your memories?" I realized a few days from there that its voice alone was much worse. Grating, irritating. And the way he rapped his hooves on the table... "Or is it that your mind is so broken that your dreamscape turned into a twisted movie theater? Replaying the worst events of your life over and over? With a curious predilection for ones where fault is to be found in your choices, blood on your hooves?"
"... Hey, asshole." It raised an eyebrow, amused at my cussing. I had my eyes closed, but by then I could foretell his facial expressions. "I'm waking up." It pouted. Never scowled.
-I-
The inner clock works, you know? You actually can tune your body so that you always wake up at the same hour or that you sleep the same amount of time. I favor good sleep and rest, so I'm of the second school of thought. Eight hours, always. Unless something wakes me up. That morning, I had had a relatively good night of rest.
"Luna, I hate it when he starts talking Gala." Gala, yeah. I know from good sources that old Equestria's Grand Galloping Gala was as dull as most of the people attending were stuck up, favouring a high-and-mighty level of lexicon. So, whenever you see someone talking all thou and predilection? Tell 'em Tombstone says 'You're totally Gala'. I stretched my neck, yawning. A swig of water from my canteen and my grogginess disappeared. A little gargling, and I spat out grime and dust. "Come on, Tombstone. Time to get some breakfast." I stretched my whole body and rolled on my back, my akubra hat sliding back into place. My left front leg landed on the lever, my left eye finding the scope, the familiar feeling of the rifle's butt against my shoulder. "Like clockwork."
I had seen them the previous evening. Just in time, since I was running out of supplies. I followed them till they set up camp. I pressed on, looking for a good spot for my nest. I eventually found a rocky hill overlooking much of the surrounding area, including the path they were traveling. They had just come out from behind the shambles of the highway. 'And he likes to sing along.' My little habit. I always hum a single strophe before each shot. The lyrics are for my mind only, though. I set the cross-hair on the less grimy of the five. An unicorn mare with a long green mane.
I pushed on the lever. The rifle rewarded me with the usual vibration: starting from the chamber and spreading all the way to my shoulder.
-I-
“Fuck!” The other four travellers immediately took cover behind a couple of nearby ood carriages. They had probably fell off the highway, considering their damage. The mare cried out in pain as she collapsed, my bullet biting into the ground after digging her a grave injury.
If you ever find yourself fancying the idea of sniping -and I mean real sniping-, you'll want to make yours the old bait tactic, if you're on the attack. Never kill your first target. Cripple it, make it helpless and make it suffer and cry out in pain. Then wait and see if anyone helps. "Where did that shot come from?!"
"Holy-It went through both of Verdant's front legs!" They took out their weapons following the example of the other mare. Two shotguns. A bat 'enhanced' with nails. An automatic pistol. Nothing that could reach my position, even if they somehow found out my position. Not that I couldn't take them all down before they even crossed half the distance to my nest.
"H-Help meeee!" The prone mare whined miserably as she shed blood and tears. Those kind of injuries sting like a son of an Alicorn without wasteland dust getting into them. She was in for a world of it. "It hurts!"
No one moved. I never expect them to. Not because the apocalypse brought heightened tactical sense, or because an excess of radiation causes sudden bursts of insight, though. You see, the bait trick would work wonders in the old war. The wasteland? It's all big dragon eats small dragon, and it can only work on ponies with their heads still screwed on right. I don't use it to kill more easily. I don’t need it. Barring hunger and thirst I have all the time in the world. My targets, on the other hand... So why waste a bullet, you may ask.
“Maybe you'll give me satisfaction?” After a couple minutes of cries for help from the mare and colorful expressions from the others I noticed a change in the body language of one of the three bucks, the youngest. He was biting on his lower lip. Tense as a taut wire. I pulled on the lever and loaded another bullet in the chamber. 'And he likes to shot his gun.'
The three ponies still in cover exploded in a cacophony of curses as the buck with the sand coat bolted out of cover. My rifle vibrated. 'But he don't know what it means.'
-I-
“Come on, Verdant. You'll be alright! I swear!” Once the shock of having seen his traveling companions' heads suddenly acquiring new ventilation systems wore off, the young buck with a short dark brown mane gathered the injured mare and brought her to cover behind the nearest carriage.
“T-Thanks, DustClops.” The mare with the light grey body kept on crying and moaning. Still, she was the one who saw me coming. She gasped and tried to scoot away, bumping into her would-be-savior. He noticed me too, going for his weapon. He was the one with the bat.
“F-Ftay pack!” The comprehensive oratory impediment -I have my own Gala moments- only amused me. I smiled. I guess it didn't come out as a good smile, since next thing I knew he threw himself at me.
Smile gone, I pivoted on my front hooves and bucked him hard in the face. He landed on the ground in front of the injured mare, who shrieked out his name. I clicked my tongue, annoyed at yet another situation supporting my theory: I have the worst social skills ever. I turned my attention to the bodies, for food. Meaning I browsed for supplies in their saddles. Don't jump to conclusions.
'They were carrying some good gear.' Their weapons -exception made for the bat- weren't the usual chunks of battered metal and wood. They showed signs of usage but also of repair. No rifle ammo, though. I took enough food for the trail and a handful of bottlecaps from the dead mare's pouch. Then I kicked the saddles towards the now cowering couple of ponies. The injured pony let out a shriek as they fell around her, one directly on top of her recovering protector.
“Your medical supplies just landed on top of mister hero.” I could see the confusion on her face but I had no interest in clarifying. With my luck, she would suddenly throw the buck at me. I turned around and left. I was making good time, even with a programmed stop for some breakfast. Barring run-ins with other groups of Reds, I was going to reach Stable 43 before noon.
-I-
The sun was high in the sky as I reached the area. I stopped for an instant, taking in the big yellow ball and the surrounding blue. I still couldn't get used to it. As gloomy and disheartening it had been the cloud cover had been precious routine. Something that you could always expect to see no matter what. It helped normalize your life. Luna knows the Wasteland was crazy enough.
To suddenly see the cloud cover disappear meant that something big had happened. The Pegasi would have never gotten rid of it, so someone else had done it for them. I guessed it had something to do with the sudden influx of Enclave bulletins over the radio, but I hadn't given it much thought at the time. Only when I saw the sky and the sun, the stars and the moon -that beautiful, ivory gem- did it really dawn on me that routine had been broken.
I swiftly focused back on the task at hand: find the Stable's entrance. Or better, locate it. I already knew where it was. A natural cavern on side of the hill, but the data was dated-did that on purpose. No, seriously!- two centuries and over. The picture had grass in it. Maybe the mouth had caved in with time? “Or maybe not.”
The entrance hadn't caved in, but the shape was different. Weather and time eroded part of the stone. As I approached the hole, I heard the rush of water. That was something new. I carefully approached the entrance. The light illuminated the slope leading down to the sturdy metallic door with an engraved 43. A couple meters before that, though, there was a small stream rushing from one side to the other.
That made me curious. A bit worried. No stable had been built near any water-bearing stratum. While an alternative water supply may have been useful, stables were already equipped with water talismans. Also, the risks of erosion and the liquid being radioactive after exposure to balefire just weren't acceptable. So, where the hell was all that water coming from?
“Damn it.” I had to break one of my personal rules to not break another, more important one. I stepped inside the cavern, stopping a few meters on the slope. The rock walls would give me at least some shielding. I sat up and opened the right pouch of my saddle, then bit on the padding. “Got to be quick.” I set it on the ground in front of me.
Curious fact about PipBucks, they can be operated in two ways: using the buttons and knobs on the chassis or via a linking mind-spell which allows you to operate it telepathically, which requires you to wear it. Although the more advanced functions like Tag Location -a system to trace other PipBucks-, Eyes-Forward Sparkle -E.F.S., a short/mid range threat detection system- and Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell -S.A.T.S., a combat targeting aid- require the telepathic link between PipBuck and owner, other functions like the Inventory Sorter, the automatic mapping system and the Radio could be operated by hoof. And also by hoof, you could turn off all wireless functions of the PipBuck, rendering it a glorified wardrobe adjuster.
That's how I usually kept mine, in my saddle. But at the moment, I needed to turn it on if just for a few seconds. I already knew something had gone wrong in Stable 43, but exactly what eluded me, and the water didn't fit in with anything I was prepared for. And rule #1 is Always be prepared.
“...now what happened! I woke up to three feet of water on the whole level!” An emergency broadcast. “And my bunk is on the top level! The lower ones are already-Oh, goddesses! T-The Stable Door's commands are unusable because of the water! We can't get out! We're trapped!” I cringed. I just then noticed water dripping down from the door's chinks. The door supposed to resist balefire megaspells. But had they ever thought about testing it against water pressure? “Please, if anyone hears this! If anyone's alive, help us!” I turned it off. I had used my window of opportunity, and I had heard enough. Also, I heard nothing. No clicks.
I was suddenly grim. Somewhere in the Stable was a source of clean, non-radioactive water. A source so potent that it had turned the underground bunker in a big watery grave. In the middle of the fucking Wasteland. If it hadn't spelled horrible death for hundreds of ponies and foals, I would have laughed at the irony. As it stood, I dreaded what would come bursting out when I opened it.
-I-
On the inside, water had probably gotten to the controls before they could open the door. The system is hydraulic, would have worked no problem. It probably still did, but the Stable ponies had found themselves at a loss because the panel had fried. Its twin on my side was still working, but there was the slight problem that Vault doors opened towards the inside. Which meant that the door would have to fight against the pressure of water, and that wasn't a battle it was going to win. Ever. So, I decided to roll with the winner.
Ain't that good with explosives, but know the easiest way to detonate a mine safely? I'll give you a hint: I had just stuck three mines on the rock near the side of the door which was losing more water, and I was now aiming at the middle one with my revolver, held in my mouth. I turned tail and ran before the bullet hit home. When it did-Have you ever seen a Vault door fly through rock?
A river followed. A huge stream of water carrying everything which wasn't bolted down in the Stable. Including everyone who had been living in it. It was macabre, and yet I couldn't look away. I dared not as body after body in various states of bloating flowed out of the cave and down the hill. Out of respect, but also because I was looking for a particular kind of dead pony. Ones wearing labcoats or engineering tools.
It took minutes for the flux of water and fillies and colts and mares and bucks to stop, and as I peered inside the partially collapsed cave I could see that water was still pooling in front of the entrance. Whatever had caused all this, it was still functioning. I turned downhill, looking for the labcoat, stepping over countless bodies as I did.
Whenever something that alien happens in a Stable, it always involves a technological and/or magical mishap. The best way to get some insight in it is to hack into a terminal, but in that case Stable 43's ones were underwater, and they aren't programmed to sprout gills in case of inundation. My best bet at the moment was a lab-pony's PipBuck. Those things were made to sustain much more than some water. Even a lot of water. They are tested against pressure.
But, luck wasn't on my side. There were ponies of all ages and colors laying dead on the hill, but no one wearing any kind of lab coat or maintenance gear. 'Engineering and labs are usually on the lowest levels of a Stable. They probably got stuck further inside.' So, it was either checking each and every body and PipBuck or venturing inside the flooded stable. I chose the second option. On top of having the risk of still coming up short on information, inspecting hundred of dead bodies all on your own?
I retrieved my revolver, holding it with my teeth as I slowly made my way down the cave, already cursing the low water-level. Too shallow to hide in and the pitter patter and the ripples made any attempts at stealth useless. Coupled with the fact that I couldn't use my rifle in enclosed spaces, it all left me quite peeved. I found more bodies at the entrance. About twenty. These ones had missed the hole where the door had been as the release of the water's pressure jettisoned everything out. They had impacted the walls of metal and rock, violently. I was stepping around broken, crunched piles of pony. A small blessing: one was wearing a labcoat. I had to move three bodies before reaching her. A ruined purple mane framed a wrinkled cream body. Her head was livid, her body rigid. Skin had started to come off at her limbs. “... May Luna give you peace.” A little prayer, then I recovered my own PipBuck from my saddle and connected the two. It took a handful of minutes to copy all the data. None of it was encrypted. Again, small blessings.
I started with the latest journal entry. The date was the day I started traveling to the Stable. I cursed under my breath at the revelation. Too late.
Entry 084/15
The project is at an impasse. The specimen has reached full maturity and the latest tests have proved fruitful, except for this last obstacle. The experiment is still too invasive. We projected it to be so to adapt to the dry environment of the Wasteland, looking for water deep underground, but we didn't foresee such a... Thirst. That's the problem when experimenting with genetics and magic instead of technology. There's no such things as taps, and most of the time you can't foretell the results. It just keeps on pumping out water.
The toxin we developed only harms it. If this keeps up, we'll be forced to go back to the planning stage. Maybe this time we'll make it so that it'll store water in its leaves, to squeeze later at modicum?
I stomped hard on the water, cursing. Another freak accident. No oversight, the Stable had been built over a water-bearing stratum on purpose. I was disheartened. 'I bet on paper it looked good, maybe perfect. But why does it always go wrong?' It was the third one I saw in my life, and the third time things had gone bad for them. I get it. Stables were never supposed to save everyone, but you'd think they'd at least be supposed to keep the lab-rats inside alive! "... Alright. That's unfair." I exhaled, calming myself down. True, they had placed the Stable near a water source on purpose, they had probably left a spot metallic-free too, but it wasn't like Stable-Tec had left instructions to the Overmare saying 'Start working on developing something that can find water but cannot be turned off to fill your Stable and drown everyone inside. Have a nice day.'. If they did, only a cretin -Gala moments, remember?- would have followed them. In this case, it was just a tragic accident. A mix of bad luck and carelessness.
'A toxin. So, whatever this thing is, it's organic.' Probably a plant. I had heard of plants from before the war -mostly thriving in buffalo territory- with deep roots systems, reaching past 170 feet, made to search for underground water. They had been working on the genetic engineering of something like that? Maybe enhanced it with magic.
At the moment, I was faced with the task of taking care of the thing. Maybe find some of that toxin, inject it. On top of wasting precious clean water when there was no one collecting it, an uncontrolled flood isn't good, no matter how dry the soil is. Especially with dry soil. And it would address the main reason I was in the Stable for, too.
I checked the mare's pocket. No vials nor syringes nor anything. I was all out of small blessings, it seemed. I downloaded the Stable's map from her PipBuck, then started browsing her journal entries. I found one dated four days before the last which answered my questions.
Entry 81/15
The toxin was a failure. We tried to craft it so that it would hamper the specimen's functions. Temporarily incapacitate it or diminish the output of water. Instead it almost killed Roxy. They gave a name to the plant? We put the remaining samples in the safe in the Overmare's office for the time being. They could come in handy for future re-engineering but I don't feel safe -heh, look at what I wrote- leaving something that poisonous in the lab's cabinets.
"For the love of Luna..." That was a problem. I can work my way around most computers in the Wasteland but I can't pick a lock to save my life. How was I supposed to open a safe in the Overmare's office if the terminal was fried?
-I-
Apparently, someone had had my same idea: going for the vials. Problem was, he had had the bad thought of closing the door behind him as he reached the Overmare's office. By the time he had opened the safe, the water had broken the door's controls and locked him inside. How I knew that? I knew because I could see a lab-coat wearing stallion floating in the water inside the room through the glass windows. He had died not with fear in his eyes, but a 'damn iiiiiit' face. Floating to his right, a metallic case.
As I thought about how to shatter the glass without making everything come out in one big wave, carrying the object Luna knew where, a metallic noise echoed from above me. I immediately went for my revolver. As I grasped it, the noise became a loud bash. Like something solid, with momentum, throwing itself against a metallic wall. 'Or a grating.' The ventilation system, I thought as its cover fell in the office. Out of it, something quick, slick and green. It wrapped itself around the metallic case. I shot the window. Armor piercing bullet.
The water's pressure did the rest. I narrowly dodged a blast of water and glass shards. I placed the revolver back in its holster and jumped for the metallic case as the thing lost its grip on it. I bit on it, wincing as I landed. That was some hard metal.
'Give me!' I tensed. I looked around for the source of that thundering voice. Found none. 'Give me that!' Louder than before, but I still saw no one. My eyes widened as the something slick from before cracked in my direction, slamming the metallic railing with enough force to dent it as I dodged. It allowed me to observe it better. It moved as alive, but it wasn't a tentacle: it was a vine. A giant vine, just like it's twin which crashed through the air vent above and behind me. I ran forward and dodged another stab. 'Give me the poison!'
The voice was female, but loud, angry. And a tinge of desperation? More and more vines burst through the ventilation system. I had a suspect. I skidded to a halt on the wet metal as a vine cut in my path. I jumped, over the rail and towards the atrium. I rolled to a halt in the water, throwing back my now wet hat and depositing the case in it. I grasped my revolver as the vines plunged in my direction. The second bullet in the cartridge was an explosive one. I aimed and shot, clicking my tongue on the trigger. One vine cracked in half, losing blood-like dark green liquid, its companions trashing around wildly as the voice screamed in anguish. Loud. In my head.
"... Roxy?" I tried. The scream continued. "Roxy!" I repeated, louder. Slowly, the cry of pain and the vines' erratic movement died down. "Roxy. Is that you?"
'You know my name?' The voice echoed. It was like a young filly, only throaty, raspy. Like she had a cold or was thirsty. I restrained a snort of laughter at that thought. 'Who are you?'
"My name is Tombstone." The immediate threat was gone. I really hoped I had run out of screw ups at diplomacy with that morning's smile. "Roxy, what happened here?"
'I-I don't know.' 'She' sounded sad, scared. Confused. 'At first, we were all happy. Mommy and daddy were happy because I gave them good water. If they were happy, I was happy. So I kept on giving them good water. They were happy. I was happy.' A sob. I cringed. The lab ponies in this stable had no idea what they had created, had they? 'But then they hurt me! They gave me the poison with a syringe a-and it burned! And I screamed and I cried but they didn’t hear me! I didn't understand!'
'Mommy' and 'daddy' were probably the two lab ponies. They didn't hear her? Why couldn't they? A dark chuckle echoed in my mind. I ignored it. 'So I thought-I thought maybe it was too little! Too little water! I had been bad, didn't give them enough good water, and they punished me! Because mommy and daddy would never hurt me without a reason!'
"Sweet Luna." I cringed. I understood why her voice sounded like that. She had been crying. But. How the hell could a telepathic voice from a plant get raspy from crying?! What was I dealing with, here? And why did I feel bad for her? It was a plant!
'S-So, I gave them more good water! Lots of water! But-But everyone started screaming and now mummy and daddy... They don't talk to me anymore! T-They went still! Why?! And then the big boom-! I'm scared! Why?! Did I do that to mommy and daddy?! But I have been good! I have been good...' And she started crying. Really crying. Wailing. Last time I heard someone that desperate-I shook my head. Wasn't the time.
At the moment, I was faced with the following situation. The plant was, somehow, sentient. She was talking to me, crying in my mind, sounding like a young filly who'd been left alone in a dark, cramped place. Which was kinda true. A young filly who had wanted to be good for her parents, in the only way she knew. Luna, that was some quality mindfuck material. I had wanted to get rid of the source of everything, but if I had to listen to her dieing laments as I did... Also, I wasn't confident I could get to her main body, especially if the lower levels were under-
'T-That's why... I need the poison.' She sniffled and my eyes widened. She couldn't mean-! 'I-I've been bad again! I need to be punished! To be hurt!'
"No!" And there I was, trying to talk her out of it. The situation was getting weirder by the minute. At the moment, though, I was focused on stopping what sounded and acted like a four years old foal from committing suicide, even if she saw it as chastisement. Which wasn't much better, considering the source. 'Think of something, think of something...' "You'd go still too! And it would hurt! A lot!"
Some silence. 'F-Fine.' I hoofed my face. 'S-So, I will be just like mommy and daddy.' The vines inched closer to my hat.
"Roxy, you can't!" I backed away. Why was I so against her making my job easier? Curiosity about her sentience? Her telepathy? I didn't want to hear what would amount to a foal weeping in agony?
The vines stopped. 'Why?'
"Because... Because..." Now, that was the question. And I had to come up with buffaloshit on the spot. "Because you have to come with me!" 'Aw, fuck me!' She was silent. "N-Now you've learned your lesson! Too little water and too much water are both bad! Now you can leave on the mission!" 'Seriously, Tombstone?' Yeah, I was pretty much pulling everything out of my rear as I went.
'... What’s a messhun?' She asked. I could actually picture a filly cocking her head to the side as she said that.
"Ehm, it's something you have to do because it's the right thing! I'm on a mission too!" I continued, now actually forming actual factual lines. "Now that you've learned, you have to go out. See the world. So that someday, when you can have children, you will all give good water to lots of people!"
'M-Me? The...'She paused. I hoped she hadn't seen through me. 'Mister Tombstone, is the world 'Equestria'?' That surprised me. I nodded. 'I heard mommy and daddy talk about how... How I would help all Equestria.'I sighed in relief. Thanks, mommy and daddy. 'A-Alright. Thanks for telling me, Tombstone.'
"You're welcome." Hooray, Tombstone.
"Can you come pick me up?" And then it dawned on me. How was I supposed to bring with me a Stable-sized plant?!
-I-
"Ehm, Roxy?" Roxy had demonstrated her talents once again, emptying the lower levels of the Stable from water, allowing me access. The lower I went, the more the vines. On the lowest level, you couldn't see the ceiling and the walls. "I thought you'd be smaller. I can't carry, you know... All of you."
'It's okay. I have an idea.' She answered, glad that at least one of us had any ideas. I was following a slowly receding vine. Another turn, and I was in the lab. 'You found me!'
"I can see that." As I descended, I had noticed red flowers blooming on the vines. Roxy's taps. They were pretty, but none were as beautiful as the one in full bloom in the middle of the room. Blood red with yellow stamens, as big as one of my hooves. It stood above a bunch of pony-thick vines. Six slimmer, rope-like ones came up from them in a spiral with the blossom on top.
'You can just carry red-me!' She chirped, and I noticed how the six vines were twitching. 'Come closer!'
"Ehm... Alright." I acquiesced. Four of the small vines suddenly snapped off, snaking slowly in my direction. I shuddered, but stood still, trying to relax. They wrapped and knotted themselves around my body and shoulders, the flower nestling itself gently on the left one. The last two vines then snapped off as well, adjusting themselves so that they followed the lines of my body on each side, ending up at the base of my tail. They all were the exact length to not leave any pieces hanging, and they didn't feel tight nor impede movement either. I was honestly surprised.
'Okay! We can go!' She said, the flower's petals brushing softly against my leather armor. Just like that, I now had a traveling companion. I sighed.
"Well, welcome-" I was cut off by a sudden cacophony. Clicks. Clicks everywhere. From my own Pip Buck in my pouch, from the ones of the dead ponies in the nearby rooms, or the corridor. 'What's happening?!'
'The bad stuff.' Roxy answered telepathically, having read my thoughts. I started walking out of the room. The click from radiation didn't lessen, if anything it got worse.
"Roxy, what bad stuff?" I asked, worried, a suspicion creeping in my mind. Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong-
'The stuff I took out of the bad water to make it good water! Now that I'm not big-me anymore, it's coming out...' I sucked in my breath. '… Uh-Oh. Is the bad stuff bad out the water too, mister Tombstone?'
'FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-!' I could hear it laughing its ass off.
-I-
I gasped, having ran out of breath hightailing it out of the Stable while losing enough mines to demolish the cave. I heaved, the familiar feeling of radiation sickness settling in. My legs gave out. I dove for my pouches and bit on a dose of Rad-Away, downing the bitter orangey sludge. 'Weee! That was fun, mister Tombstone!' Fun, she said. I had discovered just how Roxy had mutated and gained sentience and telepathy. The water she had been pumping out and filtering was irradiated. I guess she only developed the latter after flooding the Stable, though. 'We were going so fast! Can we do that again?!'
"... No, Roxy." I groaned, suddenly feeling tired as I allowed myself to relax. Or maybe it was my stomach churning as the Rad-Away did its work. A whine of disappointment echoed in my mind, and it finally downed on me just what I had saddled myself with: a sentient, telepathic plant able to turn irradiated water into purified water with the mind of a filly. Literally saddled myself, if one took in her resting place. I don't know how much I laid there, a devastated Stable behind me and a river of bodies in the front, a little lake forming at the feet of the hill, the water having pooled in a depression. I was hungry when I broke out of it, so at least an hour or so. Roxy had been silent the whole time. “Roxy, you still there?”
'Yes. Mister Tombstone sounded tired, so I was shut uppy. Was I good?' I rolled my eyes despite myself. A filly desperate for attention and approval.
“Yes. You were very good, Roxy.” I stood, the Rad-Away having done its work. I was still hungry, but that could wait till I found a spot away from the mountain of bodies on the hill. “Say goodbye to mommy and daddy.”
'Bye, mommy. Bye, daddy.' She sounded sad, but her voice wasn't raspy anymore. 'I'm going with mister Tombstone to see the world.'
“Don't call me mister Tombstone, please. It makes me feel... Old.” I started stepping down the hill.
'Okay, mistah Tombstone! Where are we going, mistah Tombstone?' Groaning at the young... Bloom completely missing the point, I thought about an answer. I needed to resupply. I was out of mines. Then, I would have to turn on the Wireless functions of my PipBuck again. See what other Stable needed a visit. Hoping that back home weren't actively searching for its Tag as I did.
Just another day in the Wasteland.
-----------------------------------
Footnote:
New Trait: Wild Wasteland – Nothing is as it seems, in the wasteland, and some things just don't make much sense.
Meinos Kaen presents
A Fallout Equestria Fanfiction
Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...
… there came the time when magic and technology lost the guiding lights of the virtues of ponykind. Lies protected dark secrets, friends plotted against each other. Ponies hoarded dwindling resources as their hearts became hard and calloused. Ultimately smiles became the rarest of things. And one day, magical balefire scorched earth and pony alike. The luscious lands of Equestria turned into the unforgiving Wasteland.
Those who survived did so in huge underground Stables. From one such Stable, one day emerged the Stable Dweller. A young unicorn mare who united a collection of allies and friends of all species and races. She came upon and vanquished many enemies, and in the end managed the unthinkable: she destroyed the cloud cover, returning the sky to Equestria.
But all is not yet well, in Equestria.
The pegasi exploded into Civil War over rapidly draining crops and the right to rejoin their wingless cousins. The isolationist Enclave clash against the noble Dashites. The cyberpony Red Eye is dead, but several bands of his slaver minions survive. The Reds still are a force of darkness in Fillydelphia. Raiders continue to plague the wasteland, as do many of its savage creatures. Wrenches in the integration process of the pacific pockets of Ghouls, Alicorns and Hellhounds.
The heroes of the Day of the Sun have pooled their efforts on finding the missing keys for Twilight Sparkle's legacy: the Gardens of Equestria. A megaspell, the last hope to return life to the equestrian wasteland. An year and a half have passed since the battle of Fillydelphia. The elements of Harmony though still lay in a cave as gloom jewelry, lacking any shimmering or power.
The bearer of the element of Magic is still nowhere to be found.
Chapter I – I don't need your war machines
Records is the halfway point city between Baltimare and Stalliongrad. Takes its name from all the musical records found in it. Seemed like, when everything was going to the end, someone decided to seal into the city bank's vault all the records they could find around. Goes to show how the Baltimare region was the cultural and social hubris of Equestria, before the megaspells shower. Although, it wasn't that appreciated during war-time.
Most of the musicians of the reign were born in this region, encouraged by the environment, the biggest commercial port in all of Equestria, and it shores, even if only a few genres ever left it. Tourism was one of the region's main sources of income. It created a melting pot of cultures and, more dangerous in time of war, opinions. Most of the anti-war sentiment came from Baltimare and the surrounding region, spearheaded by the many bands of 'alternative music', which immediately became 'dissident' once the Ministry of Image set hoof in the region. It made those who didn't relent immediately become underground bands. They still kept on making their own kind of music, risking prison. A few bands actually got arrested and put away for their efforts.
'Huuu! What's this place, mistah Tombstone?!'It also was the nearest town to Stable 43's location. As I walked through the main road, I felt Roxy's 'head' shuffle from side to side as she 'looked' at the many colorful neon signs and shop windows. Quite a show in the night, I have to admit. Especially if you're a young plant... Filly... Philly? Yeah, that works. A young philly that's never left her Stable before. 'Pretty lights! Pwetty colours!'
“Yeah, yeah. Pretty.” I still had to get used to having a sentient plant hanging all over me. She may have been 'shut-uppy' when I needed my rest, but after that she had been a torrent of questions about anything she 'saw'. Which bore the question. “Roxy, I was wondering, how are you able to 'see'? I mean, you don't have eyes.” Cue a couple of mares looking at me like I had grown a second head. I still had to get used to just 'think' my questions to the red blossom, and the fact that I was wearing a plant didn't help my condition. I smiled. They ran. I groaned.
'Hmm... Roxy doesn't know. I just... Do?' The petals tickled my neck. I shivered.
“Okay.” 'Guess it wouldn't be that easy.' Not that I had expected a long winded exposure of her physiology, but at least knowing how her body worked/felt. No such luck. I stopped in front of the 'Nuzzle'n'Cuddle'. “Alright. We're staying here for tonight. Be a dear and stay shut uppy for a little?”
'O-kay!' Her enthusiasm was a welcome change, I must admit. She marveled at every new thing she laid eyes-I know, let it go-on. I gripped the knob with my mouth and opened the door. The place hadn't change much since the last time I'd been there. Still clean, with that single flickering light-bulb which they never substitute on purpose. Creates atmosphere. The bar was crowded,but not excessively chaotic. I hoped they had rooms, though.
"Howdy, stranger." A white unicorn mare with a chiffon mane greeted me as I walked in, just as her horn flashed with bright yellow light. The row of glasses and bowls in front of her shone for an instant and then began to sparkle. Clean as a whistle. "Hmm... Maybe not a stranger? You look familiar."
"Not as familiar as I'd like to be, sadly. But the night's young." She raised an eyebrow but chuckled as I took a seat, throwing my head back, hat falling off. "Been around here before. Couple months ago."
"That must be it. I wasn't working the bar yet, though. Otherwise..." She was staring at my mane and tail. Everyone does at the beginning. The white among all the black. "I'd remember you."
"Tombstone's the name."
"I'm LemonFresh." I chuckled. "That's a nice flower."
"Of course you are. And thanks." I glanced in the direction of her flank, taking in her cutie mark: a half lemon against a splash of water. I placed a hoof on the counter. "Get me something to drink?"
"Tequilamb good? We've got grand reserve." I nodded and she put her magic to work. I looked around. No one was even glancing my way. Just as I liked it. Even if I had a flower on my shoulder. That must have gotten me a glance, but no more. Flowers weren't that uncommon in the southwest, after all.
"Hey, Fresh! Turn on the radio, will you?!" A dark brown stallion suddenly shouted from the other end of the room. "It's almost time for Mister AirWave!"
"On it, Chisel!" She was perfectly able of multitasking. Still pouring me my drink, she turned on the device resting on her right. As static cleared, a glass full of amber-coloured liquid gently landed in front of me. "There you go, 'stranger'."
"Much obliged." I raised the glass to my lips, enjoying the burning sensation. I smiled mid-drink as I recognized the record playing at the radio. "The live version of the overture from the Marriage of Figatrot."
"Wow. You know your music, don't you?" LemonFresh commented, surprised. I just shrugged my shoulders and returned to my drink. After a couple minutes, the music ended and the suave voice of a stallion replaced it.
"Hello, Baltimare. You sure look beautiful tonight. Again, a red sunset has passed, leaving you shrouded in the dark night-sky, punctuated by the glittering stars, objects of many omens from our striped neighbours. Yes, you are beautiful, Baltimare... And yet, I wish your pretty visage was devoid of the sky." I had heard of the guy and his program, but never really had a chance to sit down and actually listen until that day. “You've recognized Octavia, and her friends. This was her masterpiece, played live first and last at the fund-raising concert for peace. I play this record at least once a day. Why, you ask, Baltimare? Because you must never forget.” I instinctively turned in the direction of the radio. A sentiment shared by everyone in the room, I noticed. “Octavia had it all. She played annually at the Grand Galloping Gala with her band, her compositions remain to this day of the best in the Lyrical Genre. And yet, that concert was her fall. Because she wished for peace. Because that concert was to raise funds for refugees both zebra and pony. Because she dared, although indirectly, propose that zebra civilians deserved pity. That diplomacy wasn't a chimera. Of course, the Ministry of Image couldn't have that. Luna couldn't have that.”
'I see where he is going.' He had everybody's attention in the room, and I bet in the whole Baltimare region. I already inquired that Mister AirWave wasn't just a DJ. In tone with Baltimare's history.
“Octavia was disgraced. She lost her fame, her reputation, her music was put on the black list of the MoI. The day of the megaspells, she was living in some hole in Hoffington. All because she wished for peace, because she saw another way. She was alone in her downfall, but she wasn't alone in her fight. Music, painting, theater, literature. Following Octavia's concert and subsequent disgrace, the anti-war sentiment exploded. There's a reason why Baltimare is the region with the most 'corrective interventions' from the MoI. Even underground, the movement continued strong. And when the megaspells fell, we were proven right! Not a balefire spell detonated in all of Baltimare! We still got the fallout, the radiations from Hoofington and Canterlot washing over us, killing plants, mutating animals, but Baltimare still stands proud!” The brown buck from before and a few others were actually stomping their hooves. Mister AirWave took a pause. He knew it would happen. “But Mister AirWave, you might ask. Isn't that because Zebra still occupy Stalliongrad to this day? Isn't it because they wanted not to kill their own? Why, it's a legitimate question, Baltimare. I answer you with a little lesson of history: Stalliongrad had been outfitted for a siege, for the siege that ultimately took it. It's completely self-sufficient and possesses a Protector-Class magical shield. No megaspell or radiation could have penetrated it. If they so willed, the zebras could have sealed Stalliongrad up watched us burn. Or lay the offensive on us once the magical radiations washed away. Instead? Instead they trade. Instead they opened up Stalliongrad's factories! 75% of the Chems, Medicine and food in Baltimare comes from Stalliongrad, while the Steel Wank-Oh, I'm sorry. They go by Applejack now, don't they? Still, they holed up in Throttingam, and then came out in droves, scouring Baltimare for technology that is 'rightfully theirs'! Now they say that they've changed, that they want to help! Well, want to know my opinion? Of course you are, you're listening to my program. Well, Mister AirWave says 'I don't buy it!' and adds 'Too late, assholes!'!”
I chuckled, while most of the bar now was stomping hooves and cheering. Some passerby outside had stopped at the door to listen in. No one seemed to care. 'Mistah Tombstone, what's an axwhole?' I did right there. 'Ehm, later, Roxy.' Of all the questions to break the shutuppy with.
"Eighteen months ago, the sun came back, following a chain of events that cleaned the rest of Equestria from most of their threats, messing up our home, in return! Alicorns, the Reds, Hellhounds, Raiders! Enclave civil war! Goddesses know what else has made its way in Baltimare, drove off the East and the north by 'the heroic efforts of the Stable Dweller and the Security Mare'. News Flash, ladies: you did a half assed job! And now the AJ Wankers and this New Canterlot Republic make talks of peace, make a new Equestria, retake Stalliongrad, a common effort for the future from their outpost in Throttingam. But we need a new Canterlot like we needed Hellhounds! We don't want your peace, you overbearing twats, like we didn't want your war! Baltimare will stand proud and thrive on its own!" Loudest cheers of the evening, and Mister AirWave sounded like he'd need a minute to catch his breath. "We didn't forget, did we, Baltimare? And Mister AirWave is here to help you remember, with my friends The Guest Hoof, who still warn you about the dreadful 'Canterlot Mare."
Music started playing. I hummed the music, replaying the lyrics in my head. 'Canterlot Mare. Stay away from me.' It was quickly going to turn into happy hour, there. Best conclude before the bar-mare became too busy. "I'll also need a room for the-Ah!" As I turned around, my hat brushed against the glass, knocking it off the counter. Canterlot Mare acquired 'Crap' in its lyrics, inbetween 'trotting' and 'outside my door'.
'Roxy got it!' Before I could ask what she meant, the vine which had been resting against my left side suddenly stretched out and with a loud 'snap' latched around the glass just before it impacted the ground.
"... Damn." I let out, astonished. Sure, I had seen that happen in the Stable, but it had been sudden, and quick, and most of all, controlled. There wasn't a crack in the glass, and only a little Tequilamb had spilled.
"Wow." LemonFresh let out as Roxy set the glass back on the table, returning the vine back on my barding. Then, she smiled maliciously. "Kinky."
"To be honest, I didn't know it could do that. So no, I don't use it the way you think I do." I rolled my eyes, and then smiled suggestively. "I know a few other tricks, though."
"Hmm, do you?" She sauntered over to the counter, moving her muzzle to my left ear. "Tell you what, I have a free room right next to my own. What do you say we talk about it over dinner?" I chuckled. I have a theory why my attempts at diplomacy suck: all my competence and luck go into talking with mares.
-I-
"... You weren't boasting."
"Weren't bad yourself." She chuckled and nuzzled my neck as we both laid on our side. "Good work with keeping quiet."
"Have to learn to be silent, running an Inn and all." I rolled my eyes at that.
"He's away for trade?" I clearly remembered the owner of the place being a stallion. And the glimpse I caught of her room showed a worksaddle two times her size.
"... Yes." She bit on her lower lip, feeling caught. "Is this going to be a problem?"
"No way. You have some good Tequilamb." I answered truthfully. Wasn't the first time I slapped flanks with someone busy, wasn't going to be the last. I preferred them, to tell the truth. Less chance of emotional baggage. Wasn't looking for a bond. Not even pure pleasure, just... Physical closure, you know? I actually enjoy cuddling. "Also, your cleaning magic is awesome."
"Doesn't even leave the smell. Half of the reason why he took me in." I suspected that counter had seen its fair share of unintended usage. She ran a hoof gently on my flank. "So, what's your story, Tombstone?"
"What makes you think I have one?" I enjoy pillow talk too, but I'm not too keen on personal questions.
"Well, your flower, for one." She got me there. "Your rifle, for another." I followed her gaze as it fell on my saddle. The silver barrel poked out of the weapon pouch, along with the onyxbutt. "It's not broken, is it? You put it together. And I've never seen one made out of gemstones, before."
"Just the butt." I lingered my own gaze on the part for a while longer. "Its name is Bond."
"Mysterious. Has any particular meaning?"
Yes. "No." I shifted and laid my head squarely on the pillow. "Better get some sleep, owner. I have to hit the road and you have to run an Inn."
"Hmm... Then, for the road?" Her hoof slithered down. I bit the inside of my cheek. Uncomfortable questions aside, the night ended on a high note.
-I-
'And, like, Roxy doesn't get it. I was shut uppy because you looked like you were having fun, but I couldn't really see.' Waking up was a nightmare. Apparently, even if we bid each other 'Good Night', Roxy doesn't really sleep. Doesn't need to, doesn't know how to. As such, she had seen. And now she was curious. And as such, I felt doomed.
"... We were... Sweating. Yeah." I let out. "To exercise. And you need friends of sweat to sweat. So... We were sweating. That's what we did."
'Oooh... Then, can I be friends with mistah Tombstone too?!' I gagged on air.
"N-No! Only grown ups can be friends of sweat!" I shouted. Hello, awkward silence and staring citizens of Records. I grumbled, head held low as I trotted by.
'Awww... Okie.' She gave up. My sanity thanked her. Quick change of subject. Something I was actually interested in.
'Roxy, how strong are you?' I asked her, remembering last night's incident with the glass. 'What you did last night was cool, you know?'
'Tee-hee!' She went. 'Thanks, mistah Tombstone. But what do you mean strong?'
'How big of a thing can you lift, right now?' I remembered the feats from the Stable, but Roxy had a lot more vines, thicker too.
'Hmm, if I tried real hard I could probably lift mistah Tombstone if I used both my vines.' I nodded to no one in particular as I reached my intended destination. The old Records shooting gallery, one of the many abandoned buildings of Records. Like AirWave said, it had stayed intact, but radiations washout brought by the megaspells detonated in the other regions nonetheless thinned out the population, caused mutations in ponies, animals, plants. There simply weren't enough ponies for all the buildings and occupations. The ones which weren't taken care of slowly succumbed to time and decay, and a shooting gallery didn't scream priority. Didn't mean it wasn't being used, though.
Moving through the lobby, I passed by a series of lockers, most of which had been busted and emptied of their contents, except for a few sturdier looking ones. Higher ordnance, probably for VIP members of the gallery. Oh, they had tried to break into them, but sported only a few dents for their efforts. "Hmm." I noticed a series of cables in a crack of a floor tile, running from the cluster of lockers to a counter at the other end of the room. A terminal rested on it. Trotting over to the appliance, I turned it on. Password protected.
"And our winner is... Bullseye." The options had many letters in common, and seeing the place the terminal rested in... Success. Open lockers, terminal logs, a balance-keeping software. A sharp metallic noise echoed in the room. I then started browsing through the logs. It wasn't a regular diary, but a few annotations of peculiar or special events for the owner, one such TwinPins. One caught my attention.
I can't. Believe it. Best day ever! I mean, the best day before that was when the singer of the System of a Flank became a regular at my gallery! I didn't recognize him at first! I only did when he gave me a document for the registration! He was actually impressed that I knew his real name! BlackSky was impressed! BY ME! But that wasn't the best day ever, no. The best day ever was today, when THE WHOLE BAND came in here to shoot! The note ended with an audio file. A recorded squeal. And suddenly I was really eager to check those VIP lockers. System of a Flank was one of my favourites pre-war bands. I trotted over, and was disappointed to find most of them empty, except for the one nearest to the door leading to the shooting range outside. It contained a NSFW magazine, a gun, two boxes of ammo and a silver orb big as an apple. I frowned. It was at times like those that I wished I was an unicorn. I still picked everything. The memory orb and the magazine would be good for trade, and the gun had kept well. It packed 9mm bullets with a twelve bullets magazine. It was modified for less rebound. I smirked. Perfect. “Roxy, I want to teach you something, now.”
'Yay! What is it?!' I stepped outside. The targets had seen their fair share of use, and I could see a few others laying in heaps a bit all over the place, in various states of damage.
"Alright. See this, here?" I grabbed onto my revolver with my teeth, setting it on the ground in front of me. Roxy's petals shuffled. I had her attention. "This is called a gun. I want to teach you to use it."
'Oh.' I bet she recognized it from when I cracked one of her vines in half. 'I don't wike it very much. It made me hurtie.'
"I know. But that's what guns are for." Was I really going to discuss guns ethics to a plant? Yes, I was. "To hurt other ponies."
'Eeeeh?! But that's bad!'
"I know. But sometimes, if you don't hurt them first, they will hurt you-Look, it's complicated. Point is, there are bad ponies and other dangerous things in the Wasteland." My neck itched as I said that. I raised a hoof to it as I sat down. "And if I don't hurt them before they hurt me... I go still."
'Huu... Roxy doesn't really get it, but I don't want mistah Tombstone to go still.' She shuddered around my barding. Good girl. 'How does Roxy use it?'
"Okay. See that curve thing? That's the trigger. Grab the gun and raise it, but don't press on the trigger yet." The right vine slowly crawled across the ground and around the grip and trigger, raising it effortlessly. "Good. Now, you aim and squeeze the trigger and-"
'Wut does 'aim' mean?' Damn you, lexicon.
"It means... Well, you point the part with the hole at what you want to hurt and pull the trigger."
'Aaah... What should Roxy aim at, then?' I raised my gaze from the ground to the target. I thought about asking Roxy to try and hit the bullseye, but thought that it would be too much to-The gun went off above my head. The target sported a new hole, right in the bullseye. I raised my head to stare at Roxy's vine holding the still smoking gun. 'I did it!' She did, showing quite the marksmanship. But what had really thrown me for a ride was that I hadn't told her to do that, nor thought it. I had just pictured an image of the bullseye.
"Roxy, it's not my thoughts only you can see, then?" She shuffled.
'Nu-hu. I can also see sounds, and pictures, and everything, but I never do that. I only did now.' That made me curious. I asked her why. 'Cause mistah Tombstone can't. It wouldn't be fair.' Right then. I had the sudden urge to hug her. I opted for making her practice some more.
-I-
In the end, I discovered how much I had lucked out with Roxy. She was sentient, she could provide me with clean water ad infinitum, she didn't need to be cared for, her vines were prehensile and she was quite a good shot. She had a bit of a problem with rebound, having little mass. I decided I would keep using my revolver, and let her use the modified 9mm which I dubbed BlackSky, and another weapon. That was why I was heading for the local weapon shop, Stripes&Stripes. Owned by a zebra, but that was no surprise. Most of the new weapons in Baltimare came from Stalliongrad, and as such most of the shops were owned by zebra merchants. I spent the walk juggling a repeating rifle or a sawed off shotgun. “Hmm... We have enough long to mid range ordinance... Shotgun it is.” As I was about to enter...
“Oh, come on! They got to be worth more than that!” It made me pause, but just a second. Even if not on Roxy's levels, I am curious.
“Cliens, it is a fair price. I cannot pay you more.” As the door creaked open, I laid eyes on a middle-aged zebra -the quickest way to tell a zebra's age is by their stripes, the thinner the older- calmly disgussing buy-out prices with... “These weapons are damaged and battle-weary. I am simply paying your their price in scrap metal and repair parts.”
“DustClops... He's right.” The green unicorn mare I shot the previous morning, having exchanged the uniform of the Reds for simple leather armor, tried to reason with the buck I had sent flying with my rear hooves, his clothes having been similarly substituted. He was also wearing a red piece of cloth around his head, in a headband.
“Hnngh... Alright, alright. 200 caps, then.” He groaned and turned around defeated, while the unicorn lifted the bag of bottlecaps with her magic. “I swear, our luck took a turn for the worse this last-Ghk.” He laid eyes on me and froze. The mare -Verdant, I remembered- followed his gaze and gasped softly, the bottlecaps frozen in magic right beside her head.
“... Yo. Looking good.” They followed me as I walked past them and to the zebra. With their eyes only. “Morning. I was looking for a shotgun.”
“Of course, cliens. Sawed off? Lever action?”
“Sawed off. And a couple boxes of slugs.” The zebra nodded, telling me he'd be right back with a model. I turned to the still petrified ponies, smiling. “How are your legs?”
"H-Heh?" I just stared as she stammered, dropping the caps. "W-Why... I mean, good! Good. They..." She swallowed, breathing deeply to calm herself down. "It was just a flesh wound. A potion did it."
"Glad to hear I still got it. Was a tricky shot from that far. If I chipped the bones, you would have needed surgery." I replied, just as the zebra came back with a splendid sawed off shotgun. Mahogany handle, two slugs capacity. "Fine workmanship."
"You have fine eyes, cliens. Sadly, most prefer the models with larger capacity. It had been collecting dust in the back of the shop." The zebra opened it in one move with his hooves, placing the two slugs he had been holding in his mouth in the chambers. With a jerk, the weapon closed with a satisfying 'clack'. “It makes up for it in power.”
“Just what I like.” I took it from the zebra's hooves, balancing it, testing its weight. I liked it, and it was certainly heavier than a revolver but nothing Roxy would have trouble with. And while the rebound would be a bitch, the sawed-off shotgun's short range and spread would still make sure she hit the target. “Okay. I'll take it.”
“That will be 400 hundred caps for the shotgun and 100 for the ammo.” I raised an eyebrow as I collected my bag of caps. I thought it would be worse. “As I said, there's not much demand for this model. It'd be unfair demanding more.”
“Tell you what, if you have a mod to lessen the rebound, I'll add 200 more.” The zebra bowed.
“Most generous.” He trotted to the back of the store again. I turned to Verdant again. DustClops had turned around as well, and was now leveling me with a glare.
“You... Bastard! How dare you show your face?!” He roared out, and I rolled my eyes.
“I missed the part where you became the owner of this place? Because otherwise, I'd say get off it.” He grit his teeth, his frown increasing.
“Damn you! I ought to-”
“Get my rear hooves in your face again?” I cut him off, and that seemed to subdue him somewhat. “Because it's exactly what'll happen if you start acting stupid.” The zebra came back with the mod, already attached to the shotgun. I handed him the total amount of caps, and there went 80% of my funds. But now that I didn't have to worry about clean water anymore, I could afford it. “Thanks.”
“Thank you for your patronage, cliens.” We bowed to each other and I left the shop, closing the door behind me. Then I started counting down from thirty.
'Sheven! Six! Fouw! Huu, wait...' Roxy tried to help, which earned a smile out of me. And at the count of zero...
“NOW WAIT JUST A DAMN MINUTE!” Like clockwork. I turned around, to find a freshly busted out of shop earth pony pointing at me with an accusing hoof. "YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST WALK AWAY?!"
"D-DustClops, please don't make a scene..." Verdant pleaded, whispering in his left ear.
"Don't make a scene?!" He didn't seem keen on stopping or lowering his voice, though. Surprise, there. "Verdant, he shot you! Attacked us!"
"And you lived to shout about it. Why? Because I let you." I said with what I hoped was sarcasm. He looked afraid other than angry, now. Damn. It wasn't sarcasm. "Look, what about we talk about it somewhere private?"
"Talk about-"
"Yes! It's a great idea!" She ungracefully plugged his mouth with a hoof. Good girl. A crowd was building up. "Please lead the way."
"Please keep him like that."
-I-
I led them to the shooting gallery. We sat down in front of the lockers. Verdant was wary, probably having just realized they were in an enclosed spaces with someone who attacked them. DustClops was simply pissed. "So... I shot you first on purpose." I know. Bad opener.
"Well, duh!" Okay, I deserved that.
"Brother, please." Oh, they were siblings. "I think that what mister-"
"Tombstone."
"Mister Tombstone meant was: it had a particular purpose." She calmed him down, but her green eyes told me that she couldn't imagine what it could be.
"Yeah, well... I've heard about Reds forcibly recruiting ponies in their ranks. You didn't look like a regular. Too clean, too pretty. Out of place." She flushed. I wasn't trying to make a compliment, I swear. "So, I took you out of the fight early. And... Well, I wanted you in pain to see..."
"To see who would come and help me." She nodded, understanding. You can find out lots of things about someone by putting them in a tight spot. "I see... Thank you, mister Tombstone."
"Thank you?!" The little brother gasped in outrage. The unicorn glared at him. He winced.
"DustClops, he shot me to save me. And you. It hurt, but, if he had wanted to..." She trailed off, letting him remember how I had put three bullets through their ex-companions' heads while they were in cover. He groaned, slumping to the ground. He still gave me the evil eye while Verdant returned her attention to me. "You're right. Me and my brother were drafted by the Reds a week ago. We were travelling to Baltimare."
"Alone?" She nodded. "Why?"
"We used to live in Throttingam, but... It's not a good time to be there, right now." She sighed, her eyes trailing off. "Living there was bearable, before. The Steel Ranger mostly kept to themselves in their headquarters, since the city itself didn't have any technology they didn't have already access to. But when the sun returned..."
"Manticores were the least of our problems." DustClops murmured. Something had happened to the eastern half of the Everfree Forest which had pushed most of its monstrous population past the river, in the Baltimare section. It grew overpopulated and some of its deadly denizens eventually started wandering the wasteland. Then came the Reds, the leftovers of a huge cult-like organization of slavers from the Canterlot region. And finally, six months before, the NCR. "All fancy and mighty in their griffin-pulled carriages. They said they brought help. Would have been nice if they asked if we wanted it, first."
"The skirmishes between the Rangers were minor. There were rumours of a riot building up. So, we left before it happened or worse, before DustClops decided to join." She smiled teasingly, and the younger sibling blushed. "Don't know if you noticed, but he's quite hot-headed."
"I did... Where were the Reds taking you, by the way?" That path would have eventually led them to Records, but Reds usually avoid big settlements after the disastrous attack from a band of them on Ghoulsville in the south. Just because it had no walls or fences, they thought it would be easy pickings. They didn't know that almost everyone possesses a gun, in Baltimare. And Ghouls had two hundred years to practice.
"I heard them talking of a base further south." DustClops answered, the previous embarrassment forgotten, and now he was glaring at me again. "With our luck, they will draft us again. We would have been better off following them there and then escaping."
"You're so sure you would have been to escape?" I shook my head. I would later discover that DustClops had a tendency to oversimplify things. Now, I had a thought. I had to put some more distance between myself and Stable 43 before I could risk using my PipBuck again. 'I was thinking of heading South too. If what they said it's true, I'd better stay away from Trottingham unless it's absolutely necessary. And I did shot her.' "Well, if you want we can make part of the trip together."
"No, thank you. We've had our fill of bullets."
"DustClops!" Verdant admonished her brother, while I just shrugged and stood.
“Suit yourself. I just wanted to offer my help. You know, to say 'sorry for shooting you'?” Verdant stood as well, while DustClops just glowered in my direction. “I thought you'd be happy to have a couple hooves more.”
“Well, it'd make the trip easier, for sure... You seem more wasteland hardened than us, mister Tombstone.” I raised a hoof.
“Just Tombstone, please. And this is my partner, Roxy.” The flower on my shoulder shuffled, but the two ponies just stared at me, not understanding. I grinned. “Roxy, say hi.”
'Hiiiiii!' A vine raised from my left side and waved. Jaws went slack. I chuckled. For the first time in a long while, I was enjoying myself. And yet, that nagging little voice in the back of my mind... It prodded, asked 'Just how much do you think it'll last?'. I didn't know. For the time being, I was focused on enjoying it.
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Footnote: Level Up
New Perk: Lady Killer - +10% damage to mares and unique dialogue options with certain characters
Companion Perk: Roxy! - You got Roxy!
