Fallout: Lavender Wastelander

Forty’s leg gave out the moment he stepped through the back door of the barracks. His bloody shoulder slammed into the dirt. He winced in pain, stunned for so long that he was sure he was done for. The orgy of carnage behind him was still in full swing. A cacophony of assault rifles and energy weapons exchanging fire with each other. He recognized some of the screams. His friends and fellow slavers were dying in droves, but what could he do?

Searching for an answer, there was a stack of crates across the muddy street. They would have to do. Inch-by-inch, he dragged himself with one hand and pushed with one foot like his life depended on it. He could barely feel his bleeding shoulder or thigh through the whiskey. If it was alcohol or blood loss that numbed his pain, he did not know or have the luxury to care. The sound of combat died away with each slaver lost… or were they giving up? Either way, they would get to him soon.

He reached the crates, gripped one of the boxes with a hand, then hauled himself upright, adrenaline and alcohol working in tandem. If he was going to die, it would be on his feet screaming defiance.

Leaning on the crates, huffing, Forty rolled himself over to face the barracks he had fled. His left hand fumbled with the pistol strapped to his right side, muddy fingers uselessly scrabbling for purchase on the leather flap that kept his weapon secured in place.

A flash of purple nearly blinded him, and the princess appeared only five steps away. She was a gaunt woman on the taller side, and about as thin as the bow of light she held. It was taller than her, and despite her thin frame, her stance was firm.

“If you value your life, take your hand off that holster,” she sternly warned.

“And if I don’t?” Forty asked through a cocky grin. He knew ponies. He'd interrogated enough of them. They were pushovers, suicidally averse to actually defending themselves, like they were some sort of comic book heroes with a moral code or something. Perfect slave material. “You going to shoot me?”

She wouldn't do it. He could see it in her eyes.

<>~<>~<>

Twilight sighed, dispelling her bow as Forty hit the ground with a new hole through his skull. She had warned him, and after the crazed Equestrian in the Jefferson Memorial, she wouldn’t take any chances before defending herself.

Still… could she have talked him down? He was wounded and not thinking straight. Acting like a cornered rat. Was there—

Twilight’s ears twitched as Clover ran up, skidding to a stop a few feet away before resting her hands on her knees. Twilight shook her head as she turned away from the body. She couldn’t keep tearing herself apart every time she had to take a life.

“He-hey, I’m your bodyguard, sugar,” Clover said, trying to sound sultry despite being out of breath. Twilight sighed. Clover had found a new word to use in place of lover, it seemed. “Don’t wander off.”

Twilight swore she saw Clover’s eyes widen in fear, but it could have just been a trick of the moonlight. Then again, Twilight had her own issues with being alone.

“Sorry,” Twilight said softly, waving a hand towards Forty’s corpse. “I saw him flee out the back and thought maybe he would surrender like the others." She had seen three surrender before she chased after Forty. She pointed at the corpse. "He was Eulogy’s second in command, right? We could have interrogated him.”

“For what?” Clover asked, standing upright despite still wheezing. She crossed her arms. “Forty was a dumbass. Knowing him, he looked you right in the eyes and dared you to shoot him.”

That was more or less exactly what had happened. It got a bitter laugh from Twilight, who muttered a curse at herself under her breath. She had started to break herself up over nothing. Forty wasn’t going to surrender. If Twilight had let her guard down or hesitated for a second…

“Thank you,” Twilight said through a sigh, relaxing the tension in her shoulders. “As true as that is, he would have known where any other slaves were sold off to.”

They needed rescuing. It was the least the Enclave-Brotherhood-Equestrian alliance could do to make up for ignoring Paradise Falls’ operations for so long. Only a third of the alliance had the excuse of not being part of the wasteland until recently.

Clover ran her fingers through her hair and hummed, lips pursed as if thinking about something. Her dirty hands smeared so much blood into her white locks that her hair turned pink. Twilight cringed just thinking about how dirty blood caked into her mane would feel.

“Wait,” Clover said, gasping. “I think I can help you, sugar.” She closed the distance between them in a few bounds and stopped close enough to Twilight that they were almost kissing. Twilight bent herself backwards like a limbo dancer to get distance and used her wings to stay upright. Clover followed Twilight’s lean by bending forwards.

“Clover, personal space,” Twilight said firmly, gently pushing Clover back. It was like trying to discipline an over eager puppy, and the similarities put a bad taste in Twilight’s mouth. Clover thankfully backed off. “I’ll gladly take any help you can give me.”

Clover’s grin was as close to ear-to-ear as possible for a human, her cheeks dimpled and teeth glittering white. It was altogether manic, childish, and overjoyed. She grabbed Twilight’s hand and yanked her in the direction of the old theater building. Twilight sputtered, asking Clover what she wanted to show her, but Clover either didn’t hear or ignored her. She ran so fast that Twilight had to spread her wings and fly to keep her braced leg from dragging.

Through the front door and past Eulogy’s headless corpse, Clover skidded inside the bedroom and pointed at the safe in the corner by the metal table.

“Mr. Eulogy keeps all of his business papers in there,” Clover giggled. “Lots and lots of them. He writes in them everytime we sold someone.”

Twilight grit her teeth to hold back her correction for Clover’s poor grammar. She didn’t want to berate Clover, who leaned towards Twilight with a wide-eyed, pleading expression.

Sweet Celestia, she’s even more like a puppy than I thought. It felt as if someone was sitting on Twilight’s chest, constricting her heart, lungs, and all. Twilight closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If Clover had been abused to the point she was this desperate to please, her ego would be as fragile as a soap bubble, and needed to be handled delicately. Twilight didn’t want to feed Clover’s self-doubt by giving her a compliment that could come off as patronizing. She needed to choose her words carefully.

“Thank you, Clover,” Twilight said, opening her eyes. She faced her and smiled. “You did good. I’m proud of you.”

There were times that Twilight felt like she was a machine giving out answers, rather than a person speaking from the heart.

Absorb input, calculate response, produce output, analyze the result, repeat.

The ghost of a smile on Clover’s lips melted Twilight’s doubt away, and Twilight focused on the safe. They crossed the room together and were almost to it when Twilight stopped at a table overloaded with empty whiskey bottles and cigarette cartons. A splash of color standing out among the other junk drew her eye.

It was a bobblehead of a blond man wearing a vault suit standing at a wooden podium. Twilight thought about taking it for Daniel, but quickly squashed the idea with a shake of her head. Nothing said ‘I love you’ like a pre-owned gift belonging to a dead slaver.

She refocused on the safe.

“Do you know the code?” Twilight asked, but Clover was already kneeling by the safe, punching in numbers on the keypad.

"Way ahead of you, sugar," Clover said with a confident smile. “I know what to do before I’m even told.”

Twilight shifted uneasily, looking away in shame. It was as if Spike had been transformed and aged-up. Someone over-eager to please her for attention. Only this time, rather than being a baby dragon that she had raised and cared deeply for, Clover considered herself Twilight’s property.

The safe clicked and Clover pulled the door open before reaching inside. She grunted as she grabbed something, and came out with a thick leather-bound binder overstuffed with papers. It was thicker than some of the tomes in Twilight’s library.

Clover spun on her heels and thrust the binder towards Twilight with that eager puppy-look in her eyes again.

“T-thank you,” Twilight stuttered, taking the binder in her hands. It was heavier than she expected. She telekinetically swept the junk on the table aside to clear a space and set the binder down, opening it in the same motion to reveal a disorganized mess of spreadsheets, hand-drawn graphs, and notes all written on notebook paper. She flipped to a random page near the back, and the writing had her features crease in a deep scowl.

| Timothy Greene, teenage male | Captured by Linda Barnes | Product sold to Wehrner of The Pitt for 500 caps, 200 cap profit |

| Mei Wong, adult female | Captured by Linda Barnes | Product sold to Mr. Burke of Tenpenny Tower for 1000 caps, 700 cap profit. |

| Alice Brooks, adult female | Captured by Thomas Ogden | Attempted sale to Madame of Evergreen Mills, product ran when cage was opened. 400 cap loss + 1 slave collar. |

Twilight gripped the edges of the ledger hard enough to dent the leather binding with her fingertips, her nails scratching the hide. Her jaw ached from how hard she clamped it shut, suppressing a scream of fury. Twilight had grown up studying and reading. She knew how to interpret spreadsheets, graphs, and many other forms of data entry. People’s lives, their existences, had been boiled down to summaries in a ledger, and the slavers didn’t even have the decency to refer to them as people, just… product. Something to treat with the same emotions one would give a head of lettuce or bundle of carrots on a shopping list.

She took a deep breath and forced out an apocalyptically explosive snarl as she clapped the binder closed. She needed to stop reading before her fury drove her to do something reckless. Like going alone into a building owned by the slaver boss.

“We’ll find you,” Twilight said, muttering a near-silent promise to the names on the list as she turned around. Clover jumped back with a startled noise, Twilight almost colliding with her. She’d been reading over Twilight’s shoulder without her realizing it.

“H-hey,” Twilight said, awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. She telekinetically lifted the binder, presenting it to Clover. “Did you want to read this?”

Clover hesitated for several seconds before she slowly nodded.

“If that’s okay with you, Miss Twilight,” Clover said, avoiding eye contact and shifting uneasily like a child caught with their hooves in the cookie jar. “Mr. Eulogy never let me read his business papers for long.”

“Of course I’ll let you,” Twilight said, and Clover took the hovering binder in her arms and gripped it close to her chest like a mother hugging a child. “Keep hold of that. We can read it together later, but we don’t have time right now. We need to go see how my husband Daniel is doing.”

Clover nodded slowly. Twilight didn’t see any adverse reaction on hearing the word ‘husband’, but Twilight wasn’t going to take chances. Clover wanted to be Twilight’s favorite, and Twilight was keenly aware of what had happened to the last person that Clover wasn’t the favorite of.

Twilight made a mental note to take Clover’s shotgun away again before they teleported away from town.

<>~<>~<>

Twilight reappeared with Clover around half-a-mile away from Paradise Falls. The moonlight and Daniel’s Pip-Boy lamp worked together to illuminate the crowd of figures that had once been the town’s prisoners. The people—a mix of humans and Equestrians—congregated at the center of a rocky gully between several small and barren hills. The gully was deep and wide enough to hide a small campsite from view in any direction that wasn’t atop the surrounding hills.

Walking down the slope of the hill she had appeared on, Twilight smiled as she counted the heads of the slaves they had rescued. Eighteen adults and five children. The children were the easiest to count, as all of them sat in a circle around Daniel in the center of camp.

She overheard him whispering a story as she drew near while he used his Pip-Boy arm to illuminate his face from below. The children stared up at him without a hint of amusement.

“And then… the deathclaw leapt from the shadows, rarrr!” Daniel suddenly growled, curling his free hand into the shape of a claw as he jerked forwards. None of the children moved.

“Laaaame,” one of the girls in the group drawled. Several of the other children sniggered, and many of the adults who watched chuckled along. Twilight rolled her eyes and smiled, reaching Daniel, who scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly, his cheeks flushed.

“Having fun?” Twilight asked, playfully bumping Daniel’s shoulder with a fist. He nodded, and they shared an affectionate smile before Twilight inspected the gathered crowd.

Unlike what they had predicted, no one was seriously wounded as far as she could tell. But why would they be? Slavers wouldn’t damage the product they wanted to sell and reduce its value. Then again, the slavers were bastards. It wouldn’t hurt to check, rather than assume.

“Did you have any trouble on your end?” Twilight asked, helping Daniel up with an offered hand.

“Not as much as you, apparently,” Daniel said, his mirth fading. “I could hear the fighting from here. Are the others okay?”

“They are,” Twilight replied, nodding as they both walked away from the circle of children. She didn’t want to talk business around them, who, free from Daniel’s storytime, talked amongst themselves. She only saw one pony among the young faces, a pegasus colt.

“Electrum may take a while to get here,” Twilight said once they were a fair distance away. “She’s teleporting the three slavers who surrendered back to Adams, so that might involve paperwork.” Twilight wished there were more who had surrendered, but like Forty, the slavers seemed dead set on not submitting. “Rainbow and Sergeant Dornan are going to take the cart back after sweeping the town one last time.”

“I'm glad that we're leaving soon, I was running out of story ideas to keep the kids entertained,” Daniel said, his blush returning. “As you saw.”

Speaking of seeing, Twilight thought, her gaze shifting around the camp for Clover. For once, Clover wasn’t uncomfortably close. As a matter of fact, she had remained far out on the edge of camp.

Twilight watched Clover approach one of the former slaves and open her mouth as if she were about to speak, but the man backed off with apprehension and hands held up defensively. Like he was scared of her.

Sure, Clover was scary, but she was also a former slave. Twilight expected some sort of camaraderie between them. Perhaps she was wrong.

“Daniel," Twilight said, slowing her walk, "have any of the people here mentioned Clover by name?"

"Who?” Daniel asked, following Twilight’s gaze to Clover, who had tried and failed to speak to another former slave without success. He shook his head. "The one with the bloody hair?” Twilight nodded. “Not that I know of, but from how the others are avoiding her, I think they're scared of her."

"Yeah," Twilight agreed, shoulders slumping. She spotted Crimson sitting on a rock near the edge of camp opposite of Clover, keeping an eye on the other woman. Twilight didn't know for sure, but the look on her face could only be described as contempt. "We should talk to Crimson, she lived with Clover and might be able to tell us about her."

“Good idea,” Daniel said as they both changed direction towards the edge of camp where Crimson sat.

As they approached, Twilight said in a quiet, almost conspiratorial tone, "Clover and Crimson were both Eulogy's slaves. I took Clover's collar off, and she killed Eulogy. Now she's convinced I'm her new master."

“Wait, what?” Daniel spluttered, both of them halting in their tracks as he faced her with a look of utter incredulity. “You didn’t take her up on that offer, did you? She’s not a slave. At least, not anymore.”

“I tried telling Clover that, but she’s persistent,” Twilight whispered as she leaned in towards him. They had stopped several dozen steps away from Crimson, outside of earshot of most of the other ex-slaves, but Twilight still didn’t want to risk being overheard. “I don’t think she’s mentally stable.”

“Who in the wasteland is?” Daniel asked rhetorically, cupping his face with a hand while pinching the bridge of his muzzle. He groaned deeply into his palm. “We’re going to prove my point by adopting her, aren’t we?”

Twilight winced at his choice of words. He didn’t know how childish Clover acted, despite looking like she was in her late twenties.

“Wellllll,” Twilight started, drawling out the word as if she were Applejack, “if I know she’s not going to try and murder you out of jealousy… maybe?” Daniel gawked at her, which spurred Twilight on. Try and explain. “Something’s seriously wrong with her mentally. She’s desperate for attention and wants to be my… favorite.” Twilight shuddered just saying that. “I’ll keep an eye on her in case she sees you as competition or something, but she didn’t react when I said we’re married. I wanted to bring it up to you since we’re together, but she needs help.”

Daniel gave her a flat look. She could tell he didn’t approve, and why should he? Clover was a danger to him. Well, both of them if she was honest. He glanced across camp at Clover, working his jaw for several moments before he turned his gaze back to Twilight.

“Doesn’t Equestria have mental hospitals?” Daniel asked, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his muzzle once more.

Equestria didn’t have full asylums, but they did have mental wards in hospitals. Rainbow Dash had once broken into Ponyville General to try and steal a Daring Doo book to finish it, and thought that an escaped patient running around Ponyville had been a guard dog that was after her. That only proved that the security was lax. The doctors chasing the patient had spent hours tracking the poor mare down. What kind of damage would an unhinged wastelander do if she escaped custody?

Raiders slipping into Equestria through the rogue portals had already answered that question.

“They do,” Twilight said unenthusiastically as she turned away from Daniel to continue the walk. “But I don’t want to have her committed. She just got her freedom, and I don’t want to resort to locking her up unless she’s a danger to others. Not to mention all of Equestria’s psychologists are probably overbooked.”

Daniel inhaled sharply before scratching his goatee. He waited several heartbeats before he replied.

“Alright, it’s your call,” Daniel said with a heavy sigh. “But if she’s as unhinged as you say, then you’re the one responsible for her actions if she lacks the mental capacity to be accountable for herself.” He put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm, but not overbearing squeeze. “That’s how it goes when you become her caretaker. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I’ve already taken steps to reduce risk like taking her shotgun away,” Twilight said. The sawed-off was safely in her backpack. “For some reason, Eulogy trusted her to be his bodyguard.”

The twisted facial expression that Daniel made told Twilight that he was trying to do the mental gymnastics to figure out why a psychologically unstable slave would be armed and trusted to protect her master. Before he could ask what not even Twilight could answer, they reached Crimson.

She sat on the boulder with her forearms resting on her legs, eyes strained and tired. The dark skinned woman did not seem happy in the least, but Twilight had questions.

“Hello, Crimson,” Twilight said with a polite smile and a bow of courtesy to try and cheer Crimson up.

“Hey,” Crimson tersely replied as she inclined her head to regard Twilight and Daniel. She kept glancing past them to keep a wary eye on Clover. After a few moments she focused solely on Twilight, a scowl on her face as she stood up, smoothing out the creases in her pink dress. It matched the one Clover wore, like a uniform. “What do you want?”

“I, um,” Twilight said, fumbling over her words. While she had noticed Crimson was upset, she wasn’t prepared for the icy response. “I wanted to ask you why people are avoiding Clover, but I can come back later if now is not a good time.”

“Do you really have to ask?” Crimson asked in a tone that was more of a sarcastic statement than a true question. She stared at Twilight before she sighed and rolled her eyes, huffing exasperatedly. “You really haven’t put it together?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” Twilight said. “I know she’s unstable, but—”

“Clover’s a god-damned psychopath,” Crimson spat as she lurched forwards and jabbed Twilight in the chest with a finger. Daniel made to jump between them, but Twilight stopped him with a raised hand as Crimson continued her tirade.

“What was she doing in the next room while I was being raped?” Crimson said, her words dripping barely contained rage like ink off a freshly dipped quill. She wasn’t yelling, but it wasn’t a conversational tone either. She added in a venomous whisper, “Tell me.”

“H-hey, easy now.” Twilight took a step back and held up her hands. She didn’t want to cause a scene. “She was…” Twilight had to trail off to think about it. So much had gone on, and now she was trying to think under the stress of a very angry woman demanding a response. Twilight listed off the basics of what she remembered. “Clover was listening to the radio and eating a meal.”

The radio had been loud enough to drown out what was happening in the next room.

“Yeah,” Crimson said, sneering, “patiently waiting her turn.”

Crimson’s words were low, but that didn’t dull their sharp edge as realization cut deeply into Twilight. Clover was worse off than Twilight first thought. The idea of willingly giving herself up to a captor in that way was so alien to Twilight that she had never considered it, but with Clover’s desire to please… Twilight felt as if a million fleas were crawling on her fur.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Crimson continued, her eyes narrowing, “but if I was you, I’d take her behind a shed and put her down. She did anything Eulogy wanted to try and win his favor. So you tell me why everyone avoids her.”

Twilight bit her lip and cringed back. If Clover had followed Eulogy’s orders to the letter, then she could have hurt the other slaves on his behalf. He trusted her with being his bodyguard, afterall… but still, something didn’t add up.

“So why was Clover up for sale?” Twilight asked, recalling the first few minutes after she had taken Clover’s collar off. “When she killed Eulogy, she started yelling something about finding a new master to be the favorite of, and that he couldn’t sell her now that he was dead.”

“Because she was loyal.”

“What?” Daniel blurted, throwing out his hand. Twilight had to agree with his confusion. Clover was up for sale because she was loyal, but that didn’t make any sense. What was Twilight missing? Did Eulogy want disloyal slaves… but who would want disloyal slaves? Unless loyalty robbed him of something a disloyal slave had.

What did a sadist like Eulogy want more than anything? What did Crimson have that Clover didn't? If Eulogy enjoyed hurting people, then… then… oh sweet Celestia.

“I figured it out,” Twilight whispered, voice ringing hollow in her own ears. Daniel and Crimson stared expectantly. It had taken some mental gymnastics while putting herself in the uncomfortable headspace of a sadist, but Twilight had a solid guess why.

“Where’s the fun in torturing someone if they happily let you hurt them and ask for more?”

Eulogy wanted something he could break, not what was already broken. Twilight ground her booted hoof into the dirt, wishing she knew necromancy, just to resurrect Eulogy so she could kill him herself. Daniel’s expression matched her own.

“Exactly,” Crimson snarked. “I'm not going to relive what they did to me and say exactly what she’s done, but I have no love for that psycho, and she has no love for me. Out of the two of us, I was the one Eulogy liked to torment, and she hated my guts because I was supposedly the one getting all of his attention." She spat the word like it tasted foul coming out. "That was the only way he could torment Clover, by ignoring her in favor of abusing me.” Crimson balled up her fists. “Now, thank you for saving me, but I’m done talking about him, I’m done talking about her, and since she’s following you around now, I’m done talking to you, too.”

This had been exactly what Twilight had feared would happen between her and Sergeant Dornan—guilt by association burning a bridge to friendship before Twilight could really get to know someone. But Twilight would respect Crimson’s desire for space. She had suffered for who knows how long under the abuse of a rapist and a willing accomplice who should have been in the same position as her.

Twilight knew it was wrong to think of where Clover should have been in that situation, but Crimson had every reason to hate Clover for what she had done. If Twilight had been in Crimson’s position, she’d hate Clover, too.

Backing off from Crimson without another word, Twilight turned away with Daniel beside her. The two of them started off in a long arc around the rim of the gully.

“That doesn’t put Clover in a good light,” Daniel whispered. There was no need for it, since they took the long way around to avoid cutting through the crowded center and risk being overheard. “I think you should have Clover institutionalized.”

Twilight grimaced. She should, especially after confirming that she had helped rape Crimson, but that still didn’t change the fact that Equestria’s psychologists were likely overbooked and the hospitals not secure enough to contain someone like Clover.

“I know, but you heard Crimson, right?” Twilight asked, shaking her head. She fixed Daniel with a serious expression. “Clover’s desperate for the attention of whoever she sees as her owner. If I have her locked up to get the help she needs, she could see that as the ultimate form of betrayal, break out of whatever Equestrian hospital would agree to take her, then go on a rampage. She might be safer off with us. You’re a doctor, and I have her best interests in mind.” At least Twilight thought she had Clover's best interests in mind. There was someone she knew who would help, but Twilight shot it down as soon as she thought of it. “I could see if Fluttershy could care for her, but Clover’s chosen me to be her master, and Fluttershy’s already busy rehabilitating her gang.”

Not to mention out of all of the people Fluttershy attempted to rehabilitate, it was Clover who was confirmed to be a rapist, or at least the accomplice of one. Twilight shuddered, remembering back to the raiders threatening her with the same fate outside of the Springvale school. Her first two kills felt like ages ago. Was she really going to go through with keeping someone who had sexually assaulted another so close? Maybe she should have Clover locked up.

“Okay,” Daniel said after a moment in a slow, drawn-out sigh. He lifted a small rock off the ground with his magic and idly tossed it over the crest of a hill. “I don't like it because of how much danger this puts the both of us in, but you made some good points, and I don’t see any other options at the moment.”

Twilight forced a smile, and they drew near to where Clover tried and failed to speak to another escaped slave.

“I just wanted to—” Clover started, but her voice brokenly trailed off as the escaped slave quickly turned back towards the crowd at the center of the gully. Clover slumped her shoulders, eyes downcast.

“Hey, Clover,” Twilight said, and Clover instantly straightened up.

“Hey, sugar,” Clover said, grinning eagerly as she spoke. She held up Eulogy’s business ledger. “I still have the book. I kept it safe and sound, like I promised you I would.”

“Thank you, Clover,” Twilight said as she placed a hand on Clover’s shoulder. “You did good.”

The pride and joy lighting up in Clover’s eyes almost hid the desperation.

From Daniel’s subtle grimace as he studied Clover’s face, Twilight knew he saw it as well. If Clover was charged for what she did, how culpable would she be considered? Was she even mentally fit enough to stand trial?

“Clover,” Twilight said softly, measuring her words carefully as she let go of Clover’s shoulder and motioned to Daniel. “This is my husband, Daniel.”

Like before, Twilight didn’t see any adverse reaction from Clover, who smiled and shook Daniel's hand. It was a good sign, but Twilight wanted to make extra sure she wouldn’t turn on him. She was already forming what to say next, and the fact that she could quickly think of how to twist Clover’s insecurities to get what she wanted out of the willing slave sent Twilight’s guts churning. She could not say it, but it was either putting Daniel at risk or manipulating Clover. Either choice was a rotten apple, and it was her fate to decide which one to take a bite out of.

Twilight suppressed the frown threatening to overpower her forced smile as she looked at Daniel, the one who had saved her and loved her. Could she really live with herself if something was to happen to him? Especially since Clover was her responsibility now.

“I would appreciate it very much if you obeyed and followed his instructions like you would mine,” Twilight said to Clover. “He is my husband, so what’s mine is also his.”

Twilight felt damnation closing in as she played along with Clover’s insanity. She glanced to the side at Daniel, and wished she could take back what she had said as he shot her a dark look. His eyes had narrowed down to slits that spoke of his lack of approval at being roped into co-owning another living, thinking being. Even someone that wanted it.

Meanwhile, Clover’s smile only grew.

“I’ll do all I can to be both of your favorites,” Clover said, bowing her head in a submissive gesture. “Is there anything I can do to repay you for this, sugar?”

Twilight heard the snap of Electrum’s teleportation nearby. She was finally done with processing the prisoners, and quickly set off gathering groups to teleport to Adams Air Force Base. Good, Twilight was tired of standing in the middle of a gully in the wasteland. It was just asking for trouble.

“Yes, in fact,” Twilight said. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. Your hair is matted with blood.”

Clover scrunched her face and scratched her hair. A cloud of orange-red flakes fell from the white locks like dandruff.

Out of everything that Twilight had seen so far that day, it was the sight of that that made her vomit.

<>~<>~<>

Daniel, Clover, and Twilight were the last to teleport back to Adams Air Force Base with Electrum’s help. Twilight didn’t teleport the group since the rule was very specific that they had to arrive inside a particular hanger, which Twilight’s broken horn wouldn’t allow her to do.

She wondered why the instructions were so specific, but one step outside of the hanger and Twilight understood why. Adams Air Force Base was like a city—it never slept. Even though it was close to ten P.M., large, double-rotor helicopters either took off or landed near the other hangars surrounding their arrival point. The noise of their tiltrotor engines was a constant, ear-splitting chug-chug, muffling the shouts of dozens of soldiers running to and fro. If she had arrived anywhere but the designated area, she might have appeared in front of someone.

Many of the running soldiers wore combat armor, or no armor at all, instead of power armor. The nearest group was two soldiers in blood-stained fatigues running with a stretcher carrying a man missing both his legs above the knees. They headed towards a triage in another hanger. Other soldiers toting stretchers gathered there with wounded. A casualty collection point. Something had gone wrong.

Twilight caught Daniel watching the runners. She could read in his tense shoulders and serious expression that he wanted to join the medics.

“Go help them, if they’ll let you, maybe you can find out what’s going on,” Twilight said, barely loud enough to hear herself over the howling helicopter engines. “Electrum, Clover and I are going to the showers.”

That was the push he needed to rush into action. The unneeded bags of medical supplies they had brought for the slaves bounced against his combat armor as he caught up to the stretcher-bearers, using his magic to help them carry the load.

Despite the chaos and the screams of the wounded, and the omnipresent whine of the vertibird engines, Twilight smiled. Daniel had a gentle heart and a good conscience, and his willingness to help reminded Twilight of most Equestrians she knew. She watched Daniel until he dipped into a hangar.

She was about to ask Electrum where the showers were, but changed course as realization struck her.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Twilight asked. In all the excitement, it had slipped her mind to simply ask the Enclave member accompanying them before sending Daniel off.

“Applejack sent several squads to try and retrieve some tech from Old Olney,” Electrum said, taking the lead of the group. Twilight made sure to check on Clover every so often. There was no chance she would let her lag behind like back at the gully. “There’s an old power plant there that has something that might get Liberty Prime up and running.”

Twilight hadn’t seen it personally, but Fluttershy had told her about the giant robot in the basement of the Brotherhood of Steel’s base. Liberty Prime had never worked, though, something about issues with its reactor not producing enough power.

As they moved away from the hangars, the noise of the vertibirds thankfully quieted enough the conversation could continue without nearly shouting.

“Why are there so many wounded?” Twilight asked.

Electrum’s face went grim.

“Old Olney is the biggest deathclaw breeding ground in the Capital Wasteland.”

The wasteland has such lovely places to go, doesn’t it? Twilight thought. She looked back at the stretchers.

Something told her that Applejack was about to ask for another favor.

<>~<>~<>

Twilight didn’t hear any showers running or feel humidity in the air as she and Clover followed Electrum into a locker room. The showers they intended to use lay just beyond an archway on the other end of the room. From what Twilight could see, it was a communal bathing area, which made sense on a military base.

Walking towards the showers, a quick glance around revealed far more lockers than Twilight had first thought there were. They wrapped around most of the wall space and long banks of them were set up throughout the room. The lockers formed walls and corridors in what had once been an open-air room, and each locker had multiple doors, breaking them up into smaller sections about the size of a filing cabinet drawer.

Between the lockers were at least a half-dozen long benches, although, with how twisting and turning the locker banks were, Twilight couldn't see the entirety of the room in one spot.

While she couldn’t see or hear anyone currently, she could smell for a fact that the room was heavily used. The clawing odors of old sweat and mildew stuck to the background like a lurking predator, assaulting the nose with unexpected ferocity. Twilight covered her snout with a hand.

“This is perhaps the lockeriest of locker rooms I’ve ever had the pleasure of walking through,” Twilight said through her plugged nose.

Clover didn’t seem to mind the spell, and Electrum chuckled, not bothering with holding her nose either as she stopped by a locker that was larger than the rest. It was painted white instead of plain gray, and unlike many of the lockers in the room, it also didn’t have a padlock. Inside were neatly folded towels and washrags, and Electrum pulled out two of each.

“I’m going to keep any guys out while you two wash,” Electrum said. “These showers are supposed to be co-ed, but you’re civilians.”

Twilight worked her jaw, thinking it over. While Equestrians were normally nude, and many had no shame walking around naked strangers, there was something about bathing that felt too intimate to do around the opposite gender. Washing involved scrubbing places not normally touched in public and inviting wandering eyes.

“Thank you,” Twilight replied, fidgeting in place as she took the washcloth and towel. Twilight didn’t feel as laissez-faire about nudity as she had in the past. With how her humanoid form stood on two legs, not even her tail would keep her modest.

Electrum nodded, handed Clover her own towel and washrag, then left the room.

Watching her leave had Twilight realize that unless another woman came in to bathe, she would be alone with Clover. Given what Clover had done, that was not a comforting thought, but it was also a good time to ask her questions. Twilight certainly wasn’t going to leave her unattended in the shower. Something like a broken mirror shard could become a knife.

While Twilight didn’t know if Clover was in such a mental state that she’d hurt herself, it was better to be prepared than regret it later. It was another reason why she needed to talk to Clover at length, to get to know her better.

Clover had already set the ledger down on a nearby bench and stood with her head submissively bowed, as if ready for an order while holding her towel and rag.

The rash from the bomb collar hadn’t shrunk since it was taken off. It was still a perfect band of raw, angry red skin around Clover’s throat. Twilight wondered if her neck would fully heal, or if she would always have the ghost of the collar haunting her neck.

Twilight grit her teeth. She knew she followed the same path Fluttershy had taken almost step-for-step with her raider gang. The similarities were too close for Twilight to not see as plain as her reflection in a mirror. Twilight wanted to know why she was so insistent on helping Clover. Did she pity Clover like she was some sort of lost puppy?

Clover glanced up from her bow.

“Is everything okay, sugar?” she asked, setting the towel and rag down with the ledger.

“Not really,” Twilight said. She didn’t want to lie to Clover more than she already had. How much damage had she caused to Clover’s mental state by playing into her desire for a master?

Clover tensed, reaching her hands out like she was about to spring forwards to embrace Twilight, but stopped.

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” Clover asked, slouching back. “Have I done something wrong? I saw you talking to Crimson and…” She looked down at her shoes. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Twilight said, sighing and leaning back against a bank of lockers. “Crimson told me what you and Eulogy did to her.”

Clover let out a shallow half-chuckle as she leaned back against the opposite bank of lockers, facing Twilight, her posture continuing to sag.

“Anyone would think I’m a monster after what Eulogy told me to do to her,” Clover said, crossing her arms to hug herself. “I know it was wrong but…” she trailed off, rubbing the rash on her neck with her hand. “It’s a lot easier to live with myself when I’m not the one in control of my life.”

Twilight could see stark, horrified lucidity in Clover's eyes as she stared down at her shoes. She had a broken half-smile on her face, like she was trying and failing to bury the pain.

Twilight didn’t pity Clover. Pity implied that she felt superior to Clover, and despite how she had manipulated her by playing into her wish for a master, Twilight didn't desire to lord over her. Clover was a person. A person who, despite every evil thing that she’d done, didn’t change the fact that Twilight had found her with a bomb wrapped around her neck.

“You’re not as crazy as you act, are you?” Twilight asked, crossing the short distance between her and Clover, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“The fuck do I know, right?” Clover asked, snorting and shrugging, her tone petulant, but never raising her eyes to meet Twilight’s gaze. “I’m just a worthless piece of meat until someone needs something.”

She sniffed, and Twilight saw the glossy sheen of tears in Clover’s eyes.

“You’re not worthless, Clover,” Twilight said, squeezing her shoulder. “There’s more to you than people think. You could have easily told Eulogy the truth when I took your collar off, but instead, you tried to deflect him by saying I was a slaver who’d wandered in from the party. That was some impressive quick thinking. I would have stumbled through a lie like that.”

You also took it upon yourself to kill him, you’re not incapable of thinking for yourself, Twilight thought. It was best to leave that part unsaid.

“You’re the first person to tell me that,” Clover said, looking up to Twilight with bloodshot and tear-filled eyes. “Thank you.”

Twilight smiled and let go of her shoulder, stepping back to give Clover space. She knew there was more to her, and turned to the bench where Clover’s towel and the ledger sat.

Clover was smart enough to read the ledger over her shoulder. Why would a slave want to read the business ledger? Unless there was a transaction she was looking for.

“You wanted to escape to look for someone, didn’t you?” Twilight asked. “You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable. You’re not my slave, or Daniel’s, no matter what I said earlier. You’re a free woman, and it’s your choice to follow us.”

Clover stared at the ledger, then shifted to meet Twilight’s gaze before she shook her head.

“No, she’s never known me, and I know enough to know I’m not mother material. I just wanted to make sure Daisy wasn’t on any of the lists,” Clover said, still shaking her head. “Now, can we please shower Miss Twilight, the blood in my hair is starting to itch.”

And just as fast as it came, the lucidity faded, and Clover was back to her manic grins and servile bows.

<>~<>~<>

“I have another favor I need from you, Twilight,” Applejack said, leaning over her large wooden office desk with a heavy sigh. She stared down at a stack of papers. The casualty reports and other various paperwork were about as thick as the slaver’s ledger. It was an easy comparison to make with the tome laying on Applejack’s desk.

“Is this about Old Olney?” Twilight asked, shifting uncomfortably in the chair across from Applejack. Clover and Daniel also shifted in their own seats, which flanked Twilight’s. Deathclaws had a fierce enough reputation that Deathclaw Joe named himself after them, and he used them as the symbol for his raider gang. Even Twilight was vaguely aware that they were something to avoid at all costs, and Daniel had recently treated those wounded by them.

“Nope,” Applejack said, shaking her head. “Several of the kids rescued from Paradise Falls are from a settlement called Little Lamplight. I need you to convince ‘em to join the Enclave.”

“Fat chance,” Clover interrupted. “They kick everyone out when they turn sixteen, and hate adults.”

Twilight raised a brow to her white-haired companion.

“Seriously, Miss Twilight?” Clover huffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “You never wondered about my life before Mr. Eulogy?”

“I didn’t know when a good time would be to ask you,” Twilight said. After their talk in the locker room, Twilight let Clover wash with as much privacy as she would allow her. She had watched Clover, but hadn’t pestered the woman with personal questions. “But now that we know you’re from there, maybe you can tell us how Little Lamplight keeps its population up if they kick out everyone before they’re adults.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Clover said. “Mr. Eulogy told me one time that no one wants to buy an investment that’ll take that long to grow, and he’s not heartless enough to just let babies die, so we send ‘em to Little Lamplight. At least that’s what he told me when he sent our daughter.”

And just when I thought the wasteland had shown me everything, Twilight thought, clenching her fists.

“Um… well,” Applejack said, fumbling around the awkward bombshell Clover had casually dropped. “There’s also a back way into Vault 87. If you can convince the Little Lamplighters to join the Enclave, we can hit Vault 87 from two sides. The front door with Liberty Prime, and soldiers slippin’ in the back way.”

Daniel politely coughed into his fist before speaking.

“What about the piece of tech you needed from Old Olney?” Daniel asked. “The soldiers I was working on said the mission was a failure.”

“I’ve already made plans to ge—”

A golden flash behind Twilight followed by an electric blue one cut Applejack off. The magnetic sensation driving through Twilight’s brain let her know who was standing behind her before she even turned to look.

Deathclaw Joe and Princess Celestia stood side by side, and Twilight balked at how much blood covered each of them. It practically painted them from horn to hoof, tarnishing the golden armor Celestia wore. They used both hands and their magic to carry a refrigerator-sized cylinder of wrist-thick copper wires topped with a metal ball.

“Here you go, Applejack,” Celestia said in a cheery tone despite the large rents in the chestplate of her armor. “One quantum-harmonizing tesla-coil.” Her gaze shifted down, allowing Twilight to see her eyes were as wide as the sun itself.

“Oh, hello, Twilight,” she said, forcing a smile through a sudden wince. “I nearly died today, but I’m feeling great, how are you?”

“W-what?” Twilight stammered. “Are you okay, Celestia?”

“I’m sorry,” Deathclaw Joe grumbled bitterly. “She’s… high.”

The wasteland never ceases to put me at a loss for words.