The Small, the Prosecutor and the Ghost
by TheLittleGlow
My morning began with gunshots, like many many mornings. I wondered what it was this time, fights breaking out due to alcohol, someone had sex with another pony's mare, random raiders trying to take out town from us, whatever it is, it's making a racket and I really wanted to sleep. When I decided to open my eyes and check what the fuss was about, I remembered I wasn't in the dreamland anymore, just the cubicle grey room that I called home, through the cracked walls came small flashes of light as shots were fired every ten seconds, the decaying yellow door, its paint almost completely faded, though you could still see the remnants of that bright, eye-stinging color, was opened. I wonder who left it that way, I certainly closed it when I came to sleep, taking no chances I glanced at my whole body, checking if I still had all my kidneys and my flank wasn't covered in either blood or... egh... stallion milk, thankfully that wasn't the case and instead I sensed the lovely smell of coffee as a recognizable mare entered through the rusted door, "Good morning, sweet stuff," she said as she laid down beside me, how she could stand the muddy soil is beyond me, but nonetheless just the sight of her made this morning a whole less shittier.
I picked up the cup she brought me with my magic and took a sip, "So... what's it today, huh?"
It made her roll her eyes and sigh, looks like it was something stupid, or else she wouldn't have entered my room with the solemn look that she had, "It's Old Buck Cracker and Radhog Rider Trim going at it again... it's the fourth time this month, I'm getting sick of it," she said, looking more tired and frustrated then concerned or scared, "Could you please go stop it, the travelers might be here any minute." Oh Turpentine, your begging smile and astonishing green eyes will always make me obey, won't they?
"Give me a few minutes, I'll see what I can do," I said as I stepped out the decaying cement room with a bedroll in it.
The dream I was having was so colorful pretty I almost forgot I lived in Junkyard Hills. I walked through the straight dusty road that made crossed our town, feeling the small rocks and sand bellow my hooves as the muffled taps on the ground told tales of a ruined home. To my left I saw ponies leaving their rotten wooden houses, mainly used because they had basements, which were the only thing standing, surprisingly. I remember reading in some very old prewar news article that being called a pony that lives in his/her mom's basement was a bad thing... joke's on them now. The smart ones saw the direction that the Great War was taking and built their own shelters in the basements of these now moldy wood agglomerates that once rose up as homes for the ponies that used to be. The prewar ponies called them the unofficial stables, had their own jumpsuits and PipBucks as well, molding this town into a small underground civilization. Junkyard hills might now look like the casa for the ugly and the wicked now, but believe it or not, it used to have very smart ponies in it.
Bang.
One more bullet fired, these ponies manage to break my train of thought every time. I hadn't noticed before, but behind me was a small crowd, ranging from the local ghouls to the smallest of foals accompanied by their respective mothers. Is this what I get for being given the title of the problem solver? All I did was collect garbage for Turpentine to sell, but it seems that after a few times telling these old horses to calm... their horses, I got some sort of sheriff reputation? Because that would be awful, I get shot enough when just searching for scrap metal, I don't need them to have an actual reason to shoot at me.
I made myself through the two intersections of J.H.'s territory, the old and forgotten buildings were all damaged in a way, but some still had some glory left in them, namely the Building of Tomorrow, standing at the end of the straight dusty trail J.H. was built on and working as sort of like a hub to the scientists, researches and business workers that built it and helped it grow, or... it was before. To this day, even after the balefire bomb hit the river just south from here, it stands tall, sort of the ugly duckling, becoming in the end the one that shines above its brethren. It's the four stories of accomplishments that make the sight depressing, especially the statue of the big mare Shady by its entrance, who helped build this place I call home when it was nothing but dusty grounds and dead grass, but she like few others, knew the inhabitants of Equestria would just destroy themselves.
I stopped at the stone stairway of BoT, wondering why those two troublemakers chose to run to the rooftop from the other edge of town just to fight. I looked back at the now twice as big crowd of worried or bored ponies that followed me, "Did they hurt anypony?" Many of them just shook their heads, but among them a griffin walked forth, "Hey Tin..."
The bird feline creature with bags for eyes sat down beside me, raised one of his... hands, talons, claws, gripping devices and opened it, revealing a ten millimeter pistol, it looked a bit crude but still functioning, "What's that for?" I asked skeptically at the sight, he couldn't possibly be asking me to kill him, could he? I know it wouldn't be the first time, the suicidal rates of the wasteland are pretty high and some ponies don't have the guts to pull the trigger themselves... what am I saying?
"Well, you're going to confront the two most senile and old ponies in this town, this is the tool I give you to help you up there in case things get... well... danger--- dangerou--- dangerous..." he tried to say as he laughed between words.
I took the weapon and tried to find somewhere I could holster it, no pockets or holsters... shame on me. "Thanks Gilbert, I'll put it to... good use?" We both shared a laugh for a moment.
Bang! Bang!
Yup... still going at it up there.
I took one last look at the crowd, slowly walking backwards to the entrance of BoT, "Ponies of Junkyard Hills, I ask that you return to your daily lives and let me take care of this for now."
One of the mares in the back lifted her hoof and yelled out, "This is our daily lives! Every day something like this happens, you know it's true!" A few ponies stomped at the ground and whistled in glory as that statement was finished, "So let the games... BEGIN!" She yelled out again, from that moment at least a dozen ponies got out small retractable metal tables and placed them on the ground, along with ripped pillows for seats, while some began playing cards and putting caps said tables, others were talking to each other and (what I assumed) placing bets. What confirmed that theory was the muttering of some ponies naming the two old bucks in the rooftop.
Oh Junkyard Hills, you'll never change, will you?
I felt my rump hit something metallic, when I looked back I saw the brass statue of Shady in her iconic pose, sitting down with both her front hooves completely extended, like she was giving us something, offering us protection most think, a future perhaps. Slowly bowing I walked past her, "M'lady" I said softly as I chuckled. I haven't been inside BoT in a while, it almost felt nostalgic. The lobby was of a refined level you'd barely see in the wasteland, the half circle counter where the receptionist used to be was now an abandoned spot in her untouched standard black office chair, her terminal deactivated for centuries, she'd probably gone home just before everything went to hell around here. On specific spots, mainly next to walls or corners, were sets of sofas and chairs, all with their small coffee tables, I saw the ambient change to black and white as I saw ponies conversing and sharing a cup of tea while others simply read the magazines or newspapers, waiting for their turn to speak to the mare behind the counter. There were three main ways you could follow from here, two of them (namely the side paths) lead to small halls ending in different rooms, all in the same pattern from top to bottom: Light colored wooden upper walls, white colored concrete middle walls and wooden endings to the rest of the walls. Truly they were overly designed for just halls, but I guess they wanted this to be a memorable place, and cracker biscuits, it worked. The left hall lead to the archives, filled with lockers, filing cabinets and dead terminals, I could almost imagine once again in this black and white perception, how the ponies of before typed on those terminals and arranged their files in alphabetic order, then, when the last pony left and the lights were turned off, those same files would be left abandoned and untouched for eternity due to the misdoings of the ponies and zebras of the past, rendering the years of work completely useless.
To the right was one of the few offices of the building, rows of identical office desktops, each separated by a small plastic wall, they formed small squares, chairs on each side of said desktops, now just mere hollow shells of their old glory days. This is where ponies came to discuss business, buy properties within the town limits or to simply make suggestions to improve it, being a policy in Shady's small business empire, "Progress begins with the smallest and the most innocent, so listen to what they have to say," echoed the voice of the big mare herself as a small robot rolled on its wheels from side to side, stopping at the sight of me, "Hello... [processing]... [processing]... Tin Tales! What brings you to the [processing....processing...processing...] Building of Tomorrow in this fine evening?" He stopped for a moment, almost like regretting something he did, "I am sorry, Mr. Tales, my memory banks tend to fade with time, so bear with me as I recover, things will get back to me eventually, do not fret!"
The pony shaped steel robot was the size of a mare in her teens, decorated with a raggedy blazer and a fashionable, if faded, bow tie. It's light bulb eyes flickered as he looked at me, I could almost feel a smile, though he did not have a mouth of his own. "I am just visiting, Wild Weld." He'd started recognizing me because of the many times I've come here to look around, but whether it was for curiosity or to pay my respects to the working ponies that no longer live, I cannot say.
Wild Weld lowered his head as his little eyebrows, attached to his head by thin iron sticks, shifted into what I assumed was a frown, though his left one was damaged and dangling with each of his movements, "My apologies, Mr. Tales, but it seems that Ms. Shady has not yet recovered from her headache... my censors show that she has been absent for [200 years, 10 days and 5 hours]. I wonder what has gotten into her... you do not think she would have left me behind and gone somewhere else, do you Mr. Tales?"
My eyes were watering, even for a machine, his elegantly accented voice was filled with sorrow, what happened that last day damaged him pretty badly, he loses some short term memory from time to time, but always keeps his oldest memories. To him, there wasn't an end to the war, every single pony is still working, including Shady... but they're all just missing their posts. Tragic as this may be, I never had the courage to deactivate him, he's far too nice, plus he never leaves the building or hurts anypony... he just wanders these halls and stories like he has for two centuries, awaiting his owner's return... or as he calls her, friend.
I put a hoof in his shoulder, hearing a metal clank from the soft impact. He raised his head and looked at me, "Don't worry Wild Weld, Shady wouldn't leave you like that, you're far too important to her, she'll back before you know it," I said, trying to comfort the automaton as much as it was possible to. I smiled as I saw his expression change to a happier one, "Indeed Mr. Tales, I shouldn't worry so much! My folly for thinking so badly about the current situations! Well, enjoy your visit once again, friend, and don't hesitate to call me if you require my assistance. Now if you'll excuse me, there are some noises coming from the rooftop and I must find out what is causing them, we wouldn't want the building to crumble into dust because we didn't check and maintain the systems, now would we?" He gave a short laugh as he rolled his wheels, driving himself to the middle path, the elevators.
Wait... no! He can't see them shooting up there, he'd try to apprehend them, who knows what his damaged components might make him do!
"W-wait, Wild Weld!"
He slowly spun around and rolled back towards me with utmost excitement, "Yes, Mr. Tales, what do you require me for?"
Okay... I need something that will distract him for a while... oh, I have an idea! "Wild Weld?" I asked, getting a 'Yes, sir!' in return, "What was Shady's favorite animal?"
He raised his head and thrust out his chest in pride, "Why, that would be the songbird! She would always whistle and say, [Replaying audio log #160...], I wish I could fly free and sing like the marvelous songbirds sometimes, aren't they just lovely Weldy?" I do admit the mare's voice was beautiful, and thanks to this information I could buy myself some time.
"Then I need you to do me a favor. Go into the archives and bring me everything you have on songbirds!"
He bowed like a small gentlecolt, "Consider it done, Mr. Tales!" then proceeded to roll into the hall while playing a specific song from a famous prewar singer named Sweetie Belle, it was conveniently named 'Songbird'.
I climbed the left stairway, one of the two that spiraled upwards from behind the reception counter to the elevator door. For some reason I usually chose the left stairs. Tapping the button for the impressively long lasting elevators, I heard the slow 'dings' as it passed through the other three floors.
Ding! the snobby elevator announced its arrival, stepping into I could see the fine details on the inside, being decorated of very refined and polished wood, now a bit old and in need of maintenance, though you could still see the small pattern-like details that composed them. I pressed the button the last floor, the closest to the roof, from then I just needed to take the last set of stairs and I should be there. The elevator closed its doors and began... elevating, the humming sounds were so calm they almost made me fall asleep, the lights in here didn't flicker and the small speaker still worked, even if it was slightly lower than I'd hope for. It was playing an instrumental piece called 'Ascendance', I'd heard it a few times inside, coming out of the building's many speakers, which only turn on when they want to.
The more I looked at the wooden pieces inside the BoT the more I realized how Southern Equestria was different. Many of the technologies weren't given to us, we sort of just made them ourselves, so we kept a slightly different style, namely in architecture. From what I've read in some of the files on the first floor, there was always a small set of mountains separating the south, our south, from the rest of Equestria, almost like the old Crystal Empire, they also have similar mountains. But the thing is, the moment the war began to heat to a point where it really burned, they started blocking communications with the old southerns, due to our proximity to one of the zebras many lands, Zebrexico, which is where most of the brown striped zebras come from. Here in Junkyard Hills, Shady planned on having many of those zebras, for she believed that the brown striped had nothing to do with the war. Whether she was right or wrong didn't matter in the end, they all died together. Remnants of these hot-land zebras can still be found on their metaphysical culture and tribal nature, in fact, The Big Mare of J.H. had a few pictures in one of their settlements, in a particular one she looked happy as she was mobbed by small zebra foals who wanted a turn to play with her. As you can guess, not even with a smile on her face she was able to escape the controversial nature of the media. A single photographer manag--- Ding Ding!
Thanks... elevator...
Bang Bang! Ptchuu!
How many bullets do these ponies have?! I climbed the last set of stairs in a hurry, bashing the metal door open with my body, on a side note - Ow. In the rooftop were two old bucks, on the right corner, weighing almost... what am I saying? Radhog rider Trim was on the right with a revolver in his mouth, I wondered how he didn't break his neck trying to shoot, guess cowponies have very strong necks even as their age progresses. He was aiming and Old Buck Cracker, who had... was that pipe? I approached them slowly, it seems they haven't noticed me yet, "Alright ponies, we need to ta--"
Bang... chuuew! the pipe Cracker had shot a bullet that almost scraped by ear, my eyes widened as I looked at him. What kind of pipe shoots bullets?! He stopped to stare at me, then began walk--- Bang! shot the revolver in Trim's mouth, completely missing both of us as he shot at the ground. Could these ponies just fucking stop interrupting my train of thought... I just want to finish a single one without being interrupted!
Alright, where was I, right. He approached me, holstering his--- Bang! oh for fuck's sake! I trotted to Trim, quickly removed the revolver from his mouth with my magic and smacked him in the head, "No Trim, bad senile pony, bad!" He sat down, looking confused at me, "Who're ye stranger?! Where's mah broom... wher' am Ah?!" he panicked and I smacked him in the head again, "Snap out of it you old sack o' potatoes."
He tilted his head like a dog would and looked confused at me yet again, "Potatoes? Sorry, Ah sell Guns..." I grunted at how wrong that was and simply told him to sit down and stay.
Going back in Cracker's direction I could finally speak without being interrupted, "So... what happened now?" I asked, tired of their shit already.
"Well..." he started, "We were drinkin' at the saloon and..."
I put a hoof on his muzzle and he stopped speaking, "Say no more." I honestly thought it was something more horrible.
"No more," he said, making me sigh deeply. These ponies are worse than a horny drunk teen at a strip club, at least those have a valid reason to be stupid and act in the most idiotic of ways... no wait, they really don't, never mind.
"Listen, Cracker, you're the semi sane of the two of you, I am really tired and wanted to sleep but your bullets interrupted my fine hours of not thinking about blowing my head off, so with that in mind I would like to ask you if you could please... please come down with me and not shoot anyone in the process," I told him, getting a friendly nod, good... at least he understood me. Why is my tail itchy? I looked back to bear the sight of Trim chewing at it. For the love of the goddesses radioactive world, could you please make this pony sane for five minutes... that's all I ask, five minutes. I removed my tail from his mouth and whipped him with it, "No, bad!"
*** *** ***
I came out of the building, Cracker walking beside me while Trim was on my back, yelling "Look, I'm doin' it mama!" from time to time. At least he was enjoying himself, he wasn't really a bad pony, his mind was just lost with age. Or maybe it's corrupt after he thought of the many destinies his weapons might have gotten, who knows how many innocent ponies died because of the armaments he sold. It's one of the jobs I wouldn't wish on anypony, must be tough after a while. I put Trim on the ground and saw a young mare with a foal on her back trot happily towards him, nuzzling his neck and saying "See, daddy, you did it!" which got a simple yet sincere smile on his muzzle.
Ugh, where's my victory nuzzle?
I sat down while Cracker walked away, looking back me and tipping his brown desperado hat, I nodded at the sight. Where the betting and playing ponies were, I heard many grunts of frustration, then I watched as a small filly wrapped her hooves around a pile of caps and pulled them into her bags, barely walking away with all the weight those had. At least she had a smile on her face... and her bags full of money.
Turpentine slowly walked towards me with a big sheepish smile on her muzzle, getting to me she kissed me in the cheek, "Good job, right on time!" she said as she pointed at the horizon, where you could already see some caravans approaching. The bet n' play ponies quickly retracted their chairs and tables, running each to their respective stores (and hotel). A lot of travelers come here, both for bounty hunting and general trading. You'll often see wasteland 'artists' searching for scrap metal and materials to buy for their next work of art. Bits n' Pieces always had business, Turpentine made sure of that, keeping her store stocked with every type of scrap, trinkets, junk or just general odds and ends. It's one of those 'I sell a lot of crap that scream no value', but we all know they all have some form of value, so much that she always has at least one customer.
"There's a lot of ponies today, wuhu! I better get selling right away, will you come by later?" the lovely mare beside me asked, getting a nod from me in return. "Glad to hear it, see you soon you problem solver!" nuzzling me one last time (victory nuzzle achieved!), she galloped away. I just really love this mare to bits... and pieces... see what I did there? I grew up with her in this very town, our parents were... well... fuck-buddies as they said it themselves. My mom was always with her dad, we played with broken toys, trying to build new things with them as the radio played the ghostly songs from the equestrians of old, trying to avoid hearing our parents having their fun... for they did it loud so everypony could hear how good they were...
It was good times, can't say I hated it, on the opposite. We might have grown into the troublesome roads and atrocities that this world created with its own ending, but we try to remain sane for our own sake. While I wouldn't say that we're the good part of the wasteland, I would say we manage to stay between rapist and almost not raider. Thing is, we can be pretty nasty, especially to outsiders who enjoy asking to have their own egos shoved up their asses. Namely the Steel Rangers, most of them are just so cocky and righteous, but then we see them pillage corpses they either burnt to a crisp or completely disfigured with their heavy and explosive materiel. It's like they have no shame so long as there's a shiny shiny on the pony whose life they're about to ruin.
Vroom vroom. came a soft noise from behind me, I glanced back to see Wild Weld at a window waving his wheeled hoof at me. I got up and entered the building, watching closely as the tiny robotic pincers that came out of his chest held a brown folder, "Here you go Mr. Tales, everything on 'Songbirds', it wasn't easy to find, mind you. It was not under S, but on Ms. Shady's own filling cabinet." I smiled at him, always doing his job likes he's asked too, huh?
"It's okay Wild Weld, I don't really need... did you say Shady's own?"
"Yes, that is precisely what I said, [Replaying audio clip number 2803...]," there was a rewinding sound "...not under S, but on Ms. Shady's own..."
I took the folder and opened it, a bit disappointed that I only saw pictures of those singing birds, mixed with journal parts in which she told the adventures she had taking pictures of them. As I was about to quit on said folder, I saw an envelope with the title 'To the new Prosecutor'. Opening it I saw a small, hoofwritten letter and began reading,
If you're reading this, whomever you may be, it seems that I have died and this letter survived whatever fate brought upon me. As you may know, I didn't do everything I wanted to do in my life, far from it, so... if you have a generous soul, how would you like to fulfill some of this dead mare's last requests? I do not know of your past, your present or your future, but I do know that if you made it this far through the letter without ripping it to peaces, throwing it to the ground or simply burning it, you might be interested on what I have to say. This letter is divided into many parts, this is the first part and one of the only three that are on paper, the rest is digital. This first bit is to introduce myself and what I did, in case you have no idea who I am. I am Schadenfreude, but known by everyone as Shady, I am the business mare in charge of the town this letter is supposed to be in, known as of now as Junket Hills. I created the Hopeful Company, having its hub in a building named 'Building of Tomorrow'. My objective was to unite ponies, griffons and zebras alike in the south and keep us all safe, preserving our races for future generations, for Northern Equestria to see that we can make it through by ourselves without the use of physical or psychological violence. This town, this company, my whole legacy is here. But... as I spent too much time focusing on bringing hope back, I did not have time to make a family of my own, though I did find love here and there... there wasn't a single one that lasted long enough for the magic to happen. So, I hereby choose you, dear reader, as the continuation of my lost legacy, as the prosecutor of my justice, and my first task to you is to get a very useful item. To get to it, you might need the aid of one of my best friends... a robot named Wild Weld, if he is still functioning, he should be of use to you, if not, I wish you good luck finding what you need, for it will be a hard task. Now, if he is indeed still operational when this letter is read, please ask him about the USS-1. If he does not cooperate, I give you... and only you, the administrator override password - Esperança.
I wish you good luck on your journey, Prosecutor.
Shady, the Big Mare of J.H.
I... I didn't even know what to say, the mare just laid a burden on me like it was nothing. Poof, you're now my legacy's preserver, don't forget to send a postcard.
I wanted to refuse... I really did, but seeing as the mare's intentions were so good and looked up to her so much, I couldn't possibly leave this situation without eventually feeling bad about it. Hey, I might have lived amidst chaos all my life, but I grew up with the good will of this mare. I remember me and Turpentine reading small articles and journals of this Big Mare, wondering if one day we could shine as bright as she did. 'If only I could be so grossly incandescent', we used to say. I've been taught the differences between good and evil in a weird way, on one hoof, our parents told us good and bad are just words and what mattered was keeping our integrity. So by their definition, if it means keeping to my principles, anything is valid. But, on the other hoof we learned some good and evil through the thoughts and stories of Shady, who considered that everything can be turned good, if your will was strong enough.
So here I was, deciding whether or not to carry the burden of a two century old mare. I can accept... but am I ready to be in her place? What if I can't do good as she wanted it? What if I fail her... will I feel worse if I back out and leave her legacy to fade away in history like the world itself... or if I fail in doing what she wanted me to do, screwing said legacy, tainting its name with my deeds and misdeeds?
You know what? Fuck it! Like we say in the wasteland, You Only Die Once.... if you're lucky.
"Hey Wild Weld," I called out for him, seeing as he wandered off and was cleaning an old ruined chair, trying to get a stain off, not realizing that stain was merely a ripped off part of the chair's cover.
He suddenly turned and rolled up to me, "Yes, Mr.Tales?"
"What is the..." I looked back at the letter, "USS-1?"
He cocked his head, and circled the room once before turning back to me, "I am sorry Mr. Tales but that kind of information is classified for the administrator only." Oh boy... I knew it wouldn't be as simple as I thought, "I'm sorry bud, but I gotta get into your head, in that case."
He looked like he was scared, "Excuse me?"
"Administrator override - Esperança," he sat down and looked straight at me, his voice losing all traces of emotion, "Hello, administrator, what can I do for you today?" I was a bit stunned, feeling like I just removed his bit of free will and emotion.
"Eeeh.... add new administrator?"
He processed it for a moment, "Please specify the new administrator."
Now this question was easy, "That's me, Wild Weld."
Processing what I just told him, he turned his head directly towards me, "Administrator Wild Weld has been added," no... goddess damn it! Did he seriously pull one of those on me? I seriously hope he was kidding.
"Shit... uh... add new administrator," he stopped for a moment then spoke in an almost how about you go fuck yourself tone, "My apologies, but you have to wait a few minutes to specify another administrator, thank you for understanding."
Oh brother... "Wild Weld... uh... return to normal mode," I kindly said, sighing in utter frustration.
I heard a few beeps and boops and he gained his personality back, "Hello sir! Long time no see, how have you been?" I must have looked frustrated to him because he tilted his head and from his sides dropped a sparkle~cola, he used one of his robotic pincers to grab and extend it to me, "Here you go sir, you look thirsty!" I enveloped it in my magic and began drinking, the fizzy carrot flavored drink was phenomenal, one of the few good things the old world have that we kept, and I was glad for it, plus it was ice-cold, even better!
Finishing my drink I looked back at him, "Wild Weld, what is USS-1?"
This felt like a déjà vu, "I am sorry Mr. Tales but that kind of information is classified for the administrator only," oh really? You don't say, but then, I realized what I'd done...
"Wild Weld... you are your own administrator now... it's up to you to decide if you will give me that information... now I ask you, do you want to tell me?"
He stared at me for a moment before getting up, almost as absorbed in thought, don't be a dick, please tell me, please tell me...
"I am?" he thought carefully, "I am..." His voiced gained a new form of emotion I didn't expect, like he was finally thinking for himself, "You have been kind to me while you visited, so I think... that Ms. Shady would not mind. The Unofficial Southern Stable is an initiative to copy Stable-Tec's own, in order to be at the same level of security that the northern Equestria possesses, in fact, it is located not too far from here."
This is good! Progress in the first ten minutes, this is what I'm talking about. "Will you take me there Wild Weld?" I asked, my excitement seemed to make him doubtful... I'd never seen him like that before, arching an eyebrow... the eyebrow he looked me in the eyes, "What business have you there Mr. Tales? It is a private stable reserved for the ponies of this building." Oh shit... might as well tell him the truth, can't get somepony's trust if you instantly lie to them.
"I've gotten a letter... from Shady."
He suddenly looked shocked, almost terrified, "What?! Preposterous! Ms. Shady would never send any letters to anyone without notifying me and have me register them for her!"
Oh boy... how was I going to explain this. "Wild Weld... I'm sorry you have to hear this, but everypony's been dead for two centuries, this letter is a posthumous letter from Shady---" He interrupted me and removed the letter from my hooves with an expression of disbelief. He began reading, slowly lowering his head, when he was done he dropped the letter and stood quiet. What have I done... he looked crestfallen, faithless, like the world stopped to matter and the only thing he could wait for now was to become offline...
"It's true then... no pony is coming back, right?" I nodded sadly and slowly, looking down at the ground as I was hurt by the fact too.
"Then let's make right by them, what do you say Mr. Tales?" I looked back at him with a smile on my face, he looked happy and a bit to excited, so much so that he began rolling as fast as his legs could handle to the outside world.
"W-wait, Wild Weld! Ponies aren't use to---"
Ratatatata! Bang bang! Pchew... fwooop! Pang! pang! the weapons roared as he quickly drove to find cover behind the brass statue.
I came out running, "Calm down everyone, he's friendly!" I got a nasty look from a ghoul guard while the other one simply kept his weapon pointed at the statue.
"He didn't look friendly when he was charging towards us..."
I sighed, this was going to be a long day. "He's not used to the way the world is now, he's used to the old world, where you could run around without getting shot! He means no harm so lower your weapons, that or I'll tell Betsy to remove your Regular's discount," the guards immediately lowered their weapons... always works, thanks Betsy.
"Ya sure he won't shoot us?" the ghoul guard, Learn-y, asked hesitantly.
"No, he's completely friendly, probably doesn't even own any weapons," at least that's what I thought, poor naive me.
From behind me came the faint distant voice of the hiding robot, "Actually, sir, I do possess a rocket launcher!" I looked back, eyes widened.
"What?!"
Slowly coming out of from behind of the statue he drove to me. "You do realize that I am a repurposed security automaton, right?" Okay, what in the actual fuck was going on, I thought he was supposed to be a butler robot, when I said as much he gave out a rather accented laugh, "Oh Mr. Tales! You think a single butler robot could protect the building's administrator? That is precisely why my Artificial Intelligence component was put into a smaller form of my original body, to give ruffians a false sense of security, then when they least expect it..." out of his body came a thick but short barrel, "Boom, rocket launcher! It can also shoot fireworks."
The sight left me dumbstruck, but I still had to ask, "Wouldn't that be too dangerous inside a building?"
"Indeed, that is why this function was deactivated by the administrator until she wanted to reactivate it. I was given a second option, though. A conducted electrical weapon, known by regular ponies as, the taser. I am able to stun an opponent with an electric shock, the voltage however, is as I choose it to be," he softly electrocuted my ass with a little U-shaped metal arm, just to make sure I could really see that his ability was working perfectly, my ass is itchy now and I really didn't want it to be. The guards laughed at me before returning to their normal posts, yup... we're a family alright.
"Alright, Weld, before we go anywhere, we're going to get your eyebrow fixed, it's starting to bother me how it's just dangling there," I said sincerely, getting an arched eyebrow from him.
"I will say this once Mr. Tales, my eyebrow game is intense."
I rolled my eyes. "How about a new blazer, maybe a top hat too, does that sound good to you?"
I just watched as he drove off in a hurry, saying "I will look fabulous!" in excitement, then slowing down he turned around, looking like he'd forgotten something, "I do not know how the new land works..." Chuckling, I trotted to him.
*** *** ***
Bits n' Pieces, home of the scrap collectors! The amount of times I collected said scrap for this place was incredible, it was basically one of the only things I did. I watched as Turpentine fixed his eyebrow and gave him brand new light bulbs, then was starting to look shiny as she began polishing him, I imagined what a polished pony would look like, only to realize a pony wouldn't exactly shine when exposed to a spinning metal wheel, it would probably be messy and bloody... get these thoughts out of your head, Tin, good mercy!
Getting out of the store, I looked at Weld with a smile, "So, how do you feel?"
He wiggled his new eyebrows, "Like my privacy was completely invaded," I laughed a bit too hard at the way he said it. Now... I needed to go talk to Laced Ribbon, because I promised this metal pony of wonders a new jacket. We walked through the same dusty road that made J.H., the one town I know that is completely a straight like, ending in BoT, the one building that look at the whole extent of the road, you could see it from the opposite tip, quite the sight if I do say so myself. We'll need some stuff before leaving, going shopping was always a bore to me. It's times like these that I must... rhyme, so bear with me for a second.
Ahem.
Rotten houses to the left, rotten houses to the right, the only town that would make me wanna fight. A bright saloon, filled with life, where the worst that could happen is starting up a strife. Hey look, it's a radio station, in the past, broadcasting to our fine nation. Now empty, awaiting a new DJ, maybe the one they call Pon3 could keep the monotony at bay. Fancy looking store? That's the Wasteland Beauty, an attire store, owned by a cutie. We enter through the door, me and my robot pal, asking for some garb, couldn't you tell? Please fair lady, give us something nice, but watch out there! For we can't pay that price. A blue vest for me and a blazer for him? I guess it was good enough since his eyes began to dim. We say farewells here and there, a burden that is just too hard to bear. Look at us, we finally left the store, our looks actually made mares start to pour! Let's go meet Trim, he sells armaments, even if he doesn't fill the requirements! I need some ammo, my pistol's kinda dry. No, those are pickles, are you even gonna try? Once again, outside. Waiting for the right wind, one we can ride! But wait, we need some potions, so we don't become food for the oceans... That's a job for Lick, stallion of the seas, if only we didn't have to pay the morning fees! We bust all our caps, on everything we need, maybe it's to our pockets that we should heed. So, this is it, I accepted her proposal, to be always there, right at her disposal.
And so we leave the town, through that dusty old trail, here we come wasteland, prepare to hear her tale!
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Footnote: Your journey has begun!
[Contextual perk(s) added]:
Paradoxical Childhood - Half of karma events will give you the opposite type of karma, watch your luck!
Irrational madness - When in high levels of stress you will often act without thinking.
[Companion perk(s) added]:
|Shiny Roller - With Wild Weld by your side, there's a chance he'll spot enemies for you!|
