Fallout Equestria: Survivors

Cyber's Point of View

"Attention all citizens off GriffonStone! A war is upon us! The ponies and zebras have pushed eachother to the limit of a war fueled by balefire and nuclear vengeance! We, as the remainder of the dying Griffon species, must fight our own in this time of great peril! So fight! Fight to save the species!"

That announcement played over and over here at our Talon Company camp located in the middle of fucking nowhere. What is Talon Company you ask? Well...it was an organization put together by the Griffons of before and during the war that was meant to preserve the dying species by getting our best soldiers, scientist, builders, and even mercenaries to fight the war until the end. It was meant to preserve the species, and it did...However not to the wanted effect. At the time the Griffons had some of the largest numbers in all of Equestria, some even said it surpassed the Zebras. But instead our species went from those large numbers to a few hundred scattered throughout the wasteland. The only thing left from our Pre-war past was a few weapons, some armor, and thousands of copies of that damn recording!

Truth be told, that recording annoyed the living piss out of me and just about everyone else in this camp. However our camp leader insisted that it be played throughout the camp's static ridden loudspeakers twenty-four seven. But I guess that was the price of being a member of Talon Company. That being said I didn't have to join Talon Company in the first place...it's just better to join. It works like this: Only Griffons can be apart of Talon Company, obviously. So, when your born your parents are allowed to keep you under there wings until the age of ten. Once you reached that age your camp's current leader would approach you and give you this long, time wasting speech about the past and possible future of Talon Company and how you could contribute to it. Then you have to choose whether or not to stay. Of course everyone stays though. If you leave you are branded with an ancient Pre-war Griffon symbol that roughly translated into "Outcast", then you where kicked out into the wasteland with absolutely nothing. So in the end, picking to not stay with Talon Company was a death wish. Although even if you chose to stay with Talon Company, they needed a use for you. Of course that's where my problem was.

I definitely was a pure blooded Griffon, however do to my age I didn't qualify for Talon Company's number one use: Soldiers. You had to be at least 18 to be a soldier, I was only 17. You would think that they could make an exception just this once, especially considering that even at my age, I was still as big, if not bigger, then a lot of the Griffons in our camp. Then again my looks didn't really match the soldier look in the first place.

Other Griffons looked mean, fierce, like they've seen some shit. They often had coat and feather colors such as blacks, reds, oranges, browns, colors that made you look just plane mean. I however, didn't have that. My coat was a light grey on my body, wings, and tail. Then my head feathers where a shade of blue that almost looked white. Around each of my eyes was a dark blue ring, and my eyes where a dark purple of all things. Everyone always told me a got my size from my father and my colors from my mother.

So with all this being how it is, I wasn't put as a soldier, but instead a techy. I was the one who fixed everything. The one who repaired buildings, armor, weapons, even some of the pre-war tech we occasionally had lying around. This job, and my colors, is how I got the name Cyber.

That was another thing in Talon Company. Your parents didn't get to name you. Instead you where given more of a permanent nickname whenever you, so called, earned one. That alone caused for some lonely and boring childhood experiences. I just know that this rule is what ended up giving me this ridiculous name. I also knew that whoever made this rule should have been shot.

Couldn't argue with the rule though, or any of them for the matter. So I guess I should just keep doing what I'm doing. Which currently is just sitting here in my tool riddled tent and continue fixing the weapon and piece of armor I was currently working on.

Most of Talon Company's weapons and armor where all Pre-war. That being said, they where damn effective. All Talon Company armor was was just a very durable materiel that was often used by ponies in there standard issue combat armor produced by the Ministry of Wartime Technologies. The only difference was that Griffon combat armor was bulkier, rugged, and was always painted in an all black color scheme. Pretty much the same things could be said about our weapons to. They where pretty much just upgraded and bulkier versions of whatever the ponies used. Do to this though, our Pre-war weapons and armor where scarce now as they couldn't be produced anywhere nowadays. We had the same with problem with ammunition as well. All Griffon weapons fired larger, custom made rounds. So once you fire a round out of one of those beast, that's one less bullet for all of Talon Company's Pre-war weapons. This problem has lead us to begin using weapons, armor, and ammunition that our scavengers found out in the wasteland...and I would often be the one who would have to fix them up.

So that's what I was doing right now. I wasn't even getting to work on Griffon weapons and armor, it was just a busted 10mm pistol and a leather tunic that, for one, didn't look like it would protect against anything, and two, wasn't even big enough to fit a grown griffon. At least the pistol could be useful with the right parts. The barrel was cracked clean through and the firing pin seemed to be extremely loose, nothing I couldn't fix however.

I reached under my work table and pulled out my 'bin-o-parts'. Inside it was exactly as it was labeled, just a shit load of random weapon parts. I began digging around in it for a barrel that would fit the gun, and a spare firing pin. The noise of metal clinging against eachother as I moved the parts with my claws echoed throughout the tent, however I managed to hear the flap on my tent open up. I sat up and turned around.

Standing at the entrance to my tent was a young Griffon who was yet to have a name, but I still knew who he was. He was maybe around five or so, so naturally he was put to work as a camp messenger until he was able to have a different job. His coat was all brown, feathers and all. The only thing not brown on this guy were his eyes, which were a bright green.

"Yes Young One?" I said, calling him by what all nameless Griffons had to be called.

"The leader wants you in the servlants room."

Servlants room? What in the world did that mean, he was more then likely just mispronouncing something.

"Umm...what exactly is the 'Servlants' room Young One?" I asked, which he just looked at me like I was stupid.

"You know...the room with all the screens that show you what the cameras see." He said.

"Umm...do you mean the surveillance room?" I asked.

"Yea! That's what I said, the servlants room!" The young griffon yelled. "Our leader wants you there."

"Alright then. Go tell him I'll be there in a second Young One." I said.

"Okay!" He smiled as he turned and ran out of my tent.

Shit...better get going then. It's very frowned upon to leave the camp leader waiting. I stood up from my desk and opened the flap of my tent and walked outside. Then began walking up to the 'Servlants room'.