Chapter One: In the gas-station
Brown, gray, white.
A flood of colors, more then enough to startle me, flowed into my eyes as I woke up. Around me was a cluttered and foreign landscape, and in front of me was the face of a dog. "Well, 'ello mate." Came the voice of the creature, and I slowly focused to realize that the beast was standing on two legs and not four. I backed up slightly, my mind still fuzzy from whatever sleep the creature had waken me up. “What's wrong mate? I mean besides waking up from a long nap” The dog backed up and sat on his haunches, looking slightly confused at me, and I was unsure how to respond.
“Can I have something to drink?” I finally croaked after a few seconds had gone by. The creature looked even more confused and pointed to my bags. After some time looking through them I finally found some sparkle cola and took one out to drink. “Look,” I started, unsure of what to say. “I'm not sure what's going on here, but this place seems a bit off. Have you got any idea of how I got here? I can't seem to remember a thing.”
“Naw mate,I only just found you, but it doesn't matter does it?” As he was talking I was able to look him over a bit better, he was about as large as me but on two legs. He had a brown and black coat of fur, and he was wearing a blue and yellow jumpsuit. “I mean, I may be new to this place but I know that sticking together helps ponies. And I should hope that applies to me as well, seeing as I'm trying to find someone to carry on with.” This seemed reasonable, so I simply nodded as I got shakily to my feet. “Nice place innit?” He asked as I looked around, slowly trying to understand the place I had woken up.
I tried to look around me, everything seemed to be a bit off. “So, uh, what's your name?” I asked as I started to snoop around the place. It appeared to be a defunct gas-station, though for the life of me I couldn't figure out how I knew. “I mean you must have a name, come to think of it so do I... right?” Damn, I waved a hoof at him as he started to reply as I started to clean up the gas-station. "You know what, I'm just going to call you Honeydew, it's easy to remember."
“My name is Dogmeat…” The creature said with a worried look on his face. “I’m a Dimond dog from Stable forty five, I came over to you because you have a stable uniform too. I mean, everyone was supper mean and stuff but you have a stable uniform too and you haven’t shot me yet.” He waved a paw at what I was wearing, which I had to admit I hadn’t noticed until then. It was the same blue and yellow pattern that his clothing did, so I had to believe him… still I was confused. I waved my hoof at him, ignoring his name, remembering two names would be so much harder then one. This was going to be a long day.
After some time of this and discussion between me and my new partner we came to an agreement about staying together, though I don’t think he cared for my name for him. I slowly learned about the world around me while he went out for a bit. As I was looking at a terminal, looking at an entry, he came back dragging a bed in. He just shrugged when I asked where the bed came from, instead focusing on the fact I could read. Apparently, I didn’t seem like the type, but if I couldn’t read then what was I doing with this comic book.
“Look, see?” I asked, as I took out the issue of Swordmare in my saddlebags. “Of course I can read, why else would I have this?” He didn’t have a response of course, but I was quickly mesmerized by the pages of the comic. It drew me in, the beautiful pages and story that filled the book, though the premise was a bit ridicules and involved a space-pony and a cave of bats. I smiled as I closed it again, lovingly looking at the cover again.
"Hey, she looks kind of like you." Honeydew said, grinning as he tapped his claw on the cover-mare. Honestly when I looked back at myself he was right, we both had the same orange-red coat color, and the far more red mane we shared. This was quite interesting, and it seemed the biggest coincidence in Equestria until I saw my cutiemark. For the most part it had been partially blocked by my stable so I hadn't seen it... It was a massive claymore sword, exactly the same as the one on the mare's butt that was prominently displayed on the creature. So, that must be who I was, swordmare, defender of honor and the equestrian way in times of turmoil. I could deal with this.
Footnote: Perks Added
Dogmeat - You have a faithful companion, his name's Dogmeat "I think I'll call you Honeydew" But that's not... "HONEYDEW!" OK...
Red-Rocket - You were bored so you renovated this gas-station, now it looks like it's going to be home for a while. Good for you.
Prolauge: Of Comics and Cutiemarks
Comics can be a hassle, when you find them around the wasteland their's not too much you can do with them but read or sell them. Though for the life of me, I have no idea why people keep on reading them once and tossing them. I see them all around, ruined, destroyed, and thrown behind in a pile of corpses as the reader leaves refreshed. Celestia knows why, I just like to keep them, I mean that seems sensible right? Whatever, if you're a fan of comics it can be almost impossible for you to find them if your looking. And damn, looking can be one of the only things you do out here...
Cutie-marks aren't much better. Pursuing your cutiemark, trying to figure out what that picture on your rear means, can be like being a comic book fan. Hard, to the point of being nearly impossible, but something you've just got to do if you want to get on with your life. Without comics, well, it's not really worth it most of the time if you're someone who is focused on the things like I am. Similarly, cutie-marks can be a confusing tumble if your out in the waste and you're trying to figure them out. Some are straight foreword, I once saw a mare with a bloody knife on her flank, but if you're trying to figure out what a rising sun means when it's always raining, or if you need to figure out what a book or something means while your just trying to survive it can be hard.
I, myself, was never intelligent enough to worry about much besides treasure and booze. A bottle of beer had the power to kill my remaining brain cells, but I was never a calm drunk. The treasure I sought out so hard, though, tended to be something of a confusing tumble again. Comics, the best treasure in the wasteland, the best thing to read and the best thing besides booze to help you calm yourself when you had to to get rid of the enemy. A good knock on the head's usually enough to get rid of them, and when it's not you can use explosives, explosives can be fun!
