Fallout Equestria – Morals of the Wasteland

Chapter 1: A Different type of Freedom

“Sweet dreams are over, slaves! Off your Beds, NOW!”

Whiplie sure liked it when somepony didn’t do as he ordered. Gives him a reason to swing that whip at us a bit more. But this morning none of us wanted to satisfy him.

I told you before that Ponies from some other hell-wholes out there, occasionally visit Out Town to do a little slave-trading. Some were visiting, this time to buy me or one of the other Filly slaves.

But, do you also remember how I said that I was one of the most valuable ones? That meant I was also one of the most expensive. That’s why for all these years I was never bought.

Because nopony could afford me.

I’m currently worth 850 caps and that’s a lot. Does it sound like I want to be bought? Absolutely, because if I have to be a slave for all my life, I at least want to be in other places than this.

We were gathered-up to the main square of Downtown, surrounded by at least three walls with guards. The walls were around us, me and 7 other slave fillies were forced to sit in a line facing Whiplie who stood between us and the main entrance to the square.

His friends Grey Boom and Windy Shot were standing behind us aiming their hunting rifles, ready to shoot if one of us decided to play stupid or say “No”. It did happen before. We were sitting in the exact same spot. The blood was still there.

For all these years I’ve been looking at those walls knowing that I might never get passed them.

I still recall how many of the other ones tried to fight or dig through them, just so that they can be shot or hanged after getting caught. That was one of the rules Bloody Blade enforced for every “citizen” of Out Town: almost every slave who ever tries to escape is hanged for any attempt of escape.

I only once was part of a group that tried.

As you can see that didn’t worked so well. I don’t know how they didn’t manage to figure out I was involved, and I preferred to keep it that way since. And I always look at the rotting hanging corpses of my other "chain-mates" from back then, as a reminder to never try again.

Blade knows how to use fear as a mean of obedience.

Most slaves who ever tried running, their corpses are left hanging for good, so that fewer slaves would ever want to escape knowing that this is what they’re risking to happen to them.

It was also however a rather dumb idea, because it also sometimes scared away some of the “customers”.

This time, the customers interested in buying some filly slaves were the unusual type.

Grey Boom and Windy Shot were watching us while Whiplie handled the transaction with the “strange customers”. There were 5 of them and I could definitely tell by their attitudes and the way they dressed that they were Mercenaries or some other crap, but one new unusual thing.

There was a literal trotting corpse among them.

I was familiar with Ghulification: too much time spent in radiation, and you turn into a zombie. There were more than plenty of Ghoul slaves here too. But this one, he looked like we should be impressed he’s not a feral yet.

He talked in a creepy growly voice, his skin was so decayed he almost looked like he was partially flayed, some of the scars revealed his insides glowing, and one of his eyes completely red like it was just burned. His skin may have been near non-existent, but I could almost tell that it was possibly orange-coated.

It’s a good thing he wore a duster. I’m sure his whole body was only bones and inner organs underneath that coat. And since, he was bald, I bet his tail was gone too.

And under that Gas mask on his mouth, I bet one of the jaws decayed away years ago.

Because, by the way, that’s one consultation price for Ghoulification: Extended life span. You don’t age naturally. Who knows how old this Ghoul was. He might have been from like, way before the world ended years and years ago.

That bothered some of the Raiders too, but he wasn’t the leader of those Mercenary Ponies, and that’s what mattered most in the transaction.

Everypony were pretty certain that the real leader of those Mercenaries would keep him under the leash. He talked with Whiplie while his friends, including that creep, stood behind him and waited.

“These are some of the most expensive meats we have on the little kiddies market. U’ sure y’all can afford them?” Whiplie spoke while containing a sinister smile.

But I could almost see it in his eyes.

He tried to annoy the customers into an argument so he could have a reason to whip them too. The damn Raider unicorn was flying that whip around with his magic, showing off his capabilities with it and how much he just enjoys using it.

I'm telling you, if you were to compare Whiplie and his whip to a graverobber and his shovel, you'd see very little difference.

I do have him to thank for some of the scars I have, but that’s just his mercy. Normally he swings that whip and rips flesh and meat right off.

The leader of those Ponies then asked for the price.

He wore a typical metal armor with a battle saddle of two shotguns. Armed to the teeth like all other Mercenary Ponies behind him.

Yet, he and his friends didn’t seem like the kind of Mercenaries that had a pleasure in bucking underage kids, but everypony in this land were sick, so as much as I wanted to leave Out Town, I was kind of nervous of being bought by these guys.

Yes, they did look like they could afford me.

And then, I could almost hear my heart beat when the leader Pony looked at me and asked “How much for this one?”

Whiplie suddenly realized that he couldn’t fool them into an argument, so he putted up his best “slave-business-pony” act.

“Oh, good choice, good choice. This ones right here, he’s one of the strongest little filly slaves we have here. Only the third oldest one. He can move what’s heavy, clean rooms, he can even cook-up a decent rat stew.”

Yeah, I was taught to be a cook too. Raiders love to eat what’s red.

"And 8 years of being whipped in the ass for being a pain in mine, we thought him decent discipline too. I can guarantee yah’. Y’all never hear him complain. Ain’t that right Gideon?"

I immediately answered “Yes sir”, because he wasn’t really wrong there you know. But, if they buy me, it won’t be the same as being a slave under Whiplie’s watch.

No slave pony could ever complain with Whiplie around. Not while he had his whip with him.

The worst I can think of these Mercenaries do to me for disobeying them, is punch me and kick me around a bit. 8 years a slave in Out Town is more than enough to get used to being beat up all the time, and it certainly beats being whipped so hard you can see your own blood and pieces of your skin splattering all around you.

Whiplie told him the price for me, 850 caps, and suddenly everything around felt different, like the sun suddenly just popped out of nowhere.

The Mercenary said “Deal”.

Even Whiplie seemed surprised, but he then came back to his sinister smile and told them to pay up and go.

The Merc leader spoke to one of his associates “Hector, pay up the Gentlecolt, will you?” So then the payment was being made, and meanwhile Windy Shot was pressing for the last time a few buttons on the detonator of my collar.

He hoofed it over to one of the Mercenaries soon after.

You heard me there. That’s what these slave collars do. They make sure we are obedient. And they’re super effective.

You get a few steps away from the detonator, and the collar explodes and takes with it the heads of whomever wears them.

Off all the slave deaths in Out Town, heads suddenly popping because of the collars was the rarest reason.

For the first time, I was ordered to do something that wasn’t by the Raiders. I’d promised myself that it would be a special memory should it ever happen, but I was just naïve at that point.

The Merc leader ordered me to follow him. I was between him and the rest of the other Mercs.

As we were trotting through the remainder of the town, I too a look back one last time at my other co-slaves. I could see that they were heartbroken and extremely scared that they weren’t bought.

I honestly did felt a bit sorry for them. They had to wait a bit more for their chance of freedom from this place.

What I saw in their faces, was me years before.

Ponies rarely went shopping for us, but on those very few occasions, I always remembered the faces of my other co-slaves that were much more lucky than me at the time.

I guess now I was one of the lucky ones, and I could finally see how I felt back then.

Finally we were outside the front gate as it closed behind us.

I never saw that gate from this side before, and I immediately regretted that I finally did when I noticed what was hanging on it. Skeletons.

Another form of scaring away intruders. And I recognized the collars.

Guess that’s where Bloody Blade ordered to take away the corpses of slaves that starved to death.

Yeah. Bloody Blade never gives up what he owes unless it's for money.

The group of Mercenaries then met with another group.

My new owners really must be swimming in caps, because each of them wore armor and weaponry that looked dangerous. I may know little of bartering, but I know the basics; the better the more expensive, right?

Anyway, the mercenaries were getting ready to leave while they ordered me to wait.

The freaky Ghoul Pony was near me and, I couldn’t help myself. I started looking at him, still couldn’t shake the way he resembled a dead guy out of my head.

His reded-out eye was somehow the scariest part.

But just within seconds, that eye was pointed at me.

He immediately noticed what I was doing and I looked away. When you’re a slave, you are barely allowed to even look unless told otherwise.

Anything that he would then say, would mean something bad for me.

It gave me the biggest of creeps when I heard his growly voice again.

“If you were looking at the eye, than yes, I can still see with it. And yes, I do lack the fear of killing those who piss me off.”

I was so relieved when I didn't had to answer to that. The other Pony-merc who was watching me spoke.

“Cool it, Ghoulie” said the Merc. I did like to think that finally somepony spoke in my defense. “He’s another audition to Red Eye’s slaves, and you know what happens when you kill or even damage something that would eventually belong to him.”

Don’t ask me. Off course I’ve heard off Red Eye.

The self-proclaimed “Savior of the Wasteland”, the leader of the army devoted to saving literally everypony, blah, blah, blah, blah. I’ve spent so much time with insane Raiders that I can tell when somepony’s crazy. But I did not like to say that about this Red Eye.

He sounded to me like somepony who actually tried to make things better in the Wasteland for a change. And now that I was just about to see more of the Wasteland, I’ll see if it is really worth saving. Because in that case, I can’t wait to be sold to him.

I don’t know how HE treats slaves, but he can’t go worse than Bloody Blade, that’s for sure.

Soon, the Mercenary Ponies would finally tell me to move as we started our Journey into the pitches of nothingness.

The Mercs were definitely not in a mood.

“I bucking hate trotting. Can’t we stop somewhere to rest on the way?”

“Good riddance to those damn Raiders. That place was messed up.”

“Buck! This! TROTTING!”

Sure, there was not much to listen to, and off course I wasn’t allowed to start a conversation. However, there was something interesting to look at.

One of the mercs wore a lighter armor, and his Cutie-mark was revealed: A bent knife?

I wasn’t that interested in what that Cutie-mark meant, but it was interesting all in itself to see for the first time a Pony that actually had one.

In Out Town off of course, nopony had cutie-marks, courtesy of the previous owners of the place.

I was curious in what the other mercs could have for their cutie-marks, though it was hard to wonder about that in the Ghoul’s case. His skin was so messed up I doubted his cutie-mark was still there on his ass.

I kept thinking the basic knowledge about those marks. They represent each owners talents. I guess the talents of those mercs would mostly include killing, hunting, buying slaves.

Your guess is as good as mine.

I tried to see some beauties in the scenery around us since I only saw the wasteland from beyond fences and cell bars, but . . . . . . . . . . nothingness.

That’s all that there was out there. Everywhere I looked, everything was burned, there was barely any sunlight, and almost every tree looked like it was just about too eat you with their branches.

I had to spend several hours of Journey like this? It still beats another day in Out Town, that's for sure. But when I imagined my freedom from that place, I always pictured something better.

Maybe the better of this life hasn’t happened yet? Hey, I was still a slave, so why the hell am I saying “freedom”? I suppose that depends on what actually does freedom means? And at that time, freedom meant to me anything but life in Out Town, or death everywhere else.

One of the Mercenary Ponies suddenly passed by me and threw me an apple.

“Here, eat up.” he said as he threw it to me and then looked away. I quickly caught it off course. “From how that bucking shitwhole looked like, I can assume you only ate crap there. I’m sure at least that will be a good change of taste.”

“Uuuh . . . . Thank you sir.” I responded softly. I was surprised.

That would be the first time ever that I thanked somepony holding me by a slave collar and actually meant it.

The Mercenary didn’t seem to care if I was grateful or not. No, it was obvious by now that most if not all of those Mercs cared only about one thing: getting payed, which meant me being delivered to Red Eye in one piece and still in good working condition.

I ate apples before, but ones given by raiders, so off course they were rotten and disgusting. This one definitely tasted better.

Obviously Mercenaries had more brains than raiders about how to eat properly. It’s hard for me to describe how an actual good apple tasted like, but it was quite juicy. It even burned a little.

I imagined that this is what rotten food doesn’t taste like. The Merc than told me that I’ll get something more to eat before we’ll get to our destination so that I don’t starve to death.

I’m not embarrassed to say this to you. I do have a dream deep inside that one day Equestria would become a better place.

Back in Out Town, slaves would constantly have heard the radio station by Red Eye, where he makes promises and assurances that he is the best pony in the world qualified to become a God of new life and all that crap.

Whenever I heard of ponies saying how Equestria can once again be peaceful and filled with Harmony, I hoped that I could live up to that time. For many it sounded naïve to believe that Equestria can be rebuilt, or if it was ever even magically peaceful in the first place.

But in that case, I like being naïve.

Finally, several minutes later, I couldn’t take it anymore. All of this silence. I finally spoke to them. It was really nice to have a chat at least for a second.

All the silence was just so boring.

I did see some irony in it. At slave life all you hear is whipping, other slaves screaming, and raiders calling you names.

“May I, ask a question sir?” I asked to the Merc behind me.

Like all of them, he maintained a not so friendly altitude, but he gave an answer I hoped for.

“Well, that sick buck with the whip sure wasn’t kidding when he described your use. You’re smart to at least ask if you can speak” I made a face that showed him I was scared and I absolutely did not want to annoy anypony.

“What is your question slave?” He answered sarcastically that I started to rethink if I should ask at all.

But I started, so it would probably piss him off if I would answer “Nevermind”.

“I’m sorry sir but, where are we going?”

The mercenary leader heard me asking and he said “You can go ahead and tell him Hector. He’s a slave for life so wherever we are going he’s likely to say he never heard of the place.”

And he was right.

“Were going to the Shattered Hoof re-Educational Facility.”

I never heard of such place, but it did sounded like another slave labor town. So I asked

“What’s that?”

The Mercenary leader than laughed and answered “See? What did I tell you? It’s just a place were going to stop by to rest. I know the guy in charge there.”

I suddenly was terrified when I heard the Ghoul Mercenary talk again.

“Does he really need to know that much?”

I did got what I wanted. A conversation.

“You wanna cut his hoofs off, go ahead if you’re so worried that he, a little damaged colt, can kill us.” The lead-merc answered to him as everypony laughed at the Ghoul.

They obviously found it funny that anypony would consider me dangerous. I was just a little colt afterall.

“But if he’ll bleed out, we will be forced to sell YOU for Red Eye instead. You’re a damn killer and we all know that. I’m sure he can make a use out of Ghoul slaves, as his killers of shits in latrines.”

Everypony laughed once again, and not gonna lie, I laughed a bit too. But I tried to keep it to myself as much as possible. If he wasn’t kidding about that killer part, I did not want to be on the Ghoul’s bad side.

Then the Ghoul Pony finally said something that matched his general creepiness.

“Considering how much I hate all of you, I’d say that joke actually makes sense.”

“Alright, the Dog is barking.” Said the Mercenary who I was pretty sure by now was named Hector. “Let’s stop pissing him off before he actually bites.”

And then, the final sentence of the conversation was said by the lead-merc.

“Fine, you got your answer slave. Now from now on, you don’t speak unless spoken to. Every time you talk without permission, you don’t get to eat. You got that?”

Obviously, I answered “Yes Sir”

So that was it. The new life for me. From eating shit, sleeping in shit, and being treated like shit, I moved into soon becoming a slave living, eating and being treated slightly better than shit.

At least this time I wasn’t used for pleasure again. At least I hoped so until I find out whether that’s a popular sport in Red Eye’s slavery business or not.

I kept convincing myself that no place in Equestria can be worse than Out Town. I even wanted to assure myself of that.

If Red Eye really is the acclaimed savior, I hoped I could maybe tell him one day about Out Town, and perhaps convince him to deal with that place. Whether Red Eye really was insane or not, it didn’t mattered to me. It’s the insanity in Out Town that was the kind I wanted never to exist any longer.

I don’t mind being a slave forever.

Not for somepony who wants to make things better in this world.

This Red Eye, is now the only Pony who at least makes some efforts, even if they might be violent and crazy.

Currently however, I was just hoping that we’ll get to my possible “New home” quickly. Every time I heard the Ghoul even breathing, I was scared.

He was definitely not somepony I’d want as a friend.