Fallout: Equestria - Winding Rivers

“What makes you think you're so special?! Like the rules of common courtesy don't apply to you?! Why don't you pick on somepony your own size!”

It was dark. Honestly, that kind of surprised me, even though my Pipbuck said it was late night. After a century-and-a-half, I figured something would have slipped a cog, and our clocks would be wrong. I also got a bit of disappointment when I looked up at the sky. Instead of stars and Luna’s moon, all I could see were clouds, as far as the eye could see. A faint drizzle coated everything, including me, after just a few minutes.

As I stood on the cliff, midway up one of the Macintosh Hills (“hill” was a bit of an understatement, in my opinion), I was saddened at the view before me. Just that morning, I had had this exact view from a memory. Now, here I was, with the ruins of Appleloosa barely visible on the horizon, the scorched gray buildings blending in to the bleak, dreary surroundings. Closer, I could see the old military base, a few miles away, and the torn-up path down to it, rising back to the low plateau the base rested on.

With a sigh, I started down, picking carefully around rocks, concrete, and thin, thorny bushes. My laden saddle bags rocked heavily against my flank, and my Pipbuck cast a dim green light ahead of me. After a few minutes of walking, I decided to experiment as I went. A soft click, followed by static signaled my Pipbuck’s radio turning on. I flipped between stations, not really expecting to find anything in this barren waste.

“Heeelloooo, chiiildren! This is DJ PON3! Your voice in the Wasteland!”

I tripped and fell to my face. Another voice! There was somepony out there with a transmitter! Doing a radio show, no less! As my brain refocused, I took stock of what I had just heard. DJ PON3. That name sounded familiar, though I couldn’t place where. I’m sure it was a footnote in a lesson, or something. It would probably strike me in an hour or two, after the moment had passed.

“How are all my little ponies out there, this fine evening?” he laughed, half-heartedly, “well, fine by Wasteland standards, anyway. I’m doing just peachy, myself. There’s very little news, tonight, and you all know the saying: no news is good news!” he laughed again, “we do, however, have one small piece of news. It seems there is an unusually high amount of raider activity on the southern borders, south of Appleloosa, into northern Caledonia. My sources can’t say for sure what’s going on, but they seemed better armed and more organized, than usual. So if, for some strange reason, you find yourself down south, be careful. And now I grace you with an old Sweetie Belle classic.”

Well that was… strangely relevant. As the song started, I analyzed the situation. Raiders? I knew the word, of course, but couldn’t figure out the meaning in this context. Maybe the zebras were still attacking Equestrian cities, after all this time. I’d have to keep watch for that. Maybe I could find one of those towns to rest in for the night.

The faint glow an hour later was a welcome sight. Assuming it wasn’t a zebra camp, it had to be a town. My map was unhelpful in this regard, giving me no icons, save “Stable 42” behind me.

I approached cautiously, until I saw the ponies around the campfire, and no zebras. My EFS showed them all as green, non-hostile. I stepped into the clearing and waved, “hello, every-” I found four guns shoved into my face before I could finish.

“Well, well well, what do we have here?” a pure-red unicorn said with a smirk. Closer up, and in the glow of his red magic, I could see he wore thick armor that looked like hide, adorned in metal spikes. Now that I looked, they all wore similar get-ups. One by one, they changed to red on my EFS.

“He’s kinda skinny, but looks healthy enough,” a pony who looked like nothing but a silhouette said, “think that new guy up in Filly would like him?”

“Worth a shot,” red replied, “though, he might not make it that far. Small loss, I guess,” he pressed his face close to mine, “good Goddesses, he’s got all his teeth, even. Looks clean as a whistle, too.”

An earth pony with a gun in him mouth spat it out and started toward my saddle bags, “let’s see what he has here.”

I started to back away, but bumped into the fourth pony and felt his shotgun press against the back of my head, “where do you think you’re going, you’re ours, now,” he chuckled.

The scream made everyone freeze. My blood ran cold as ice. My attackers looked between each other, then to the outskirts of the camp. Another scream answered from the opposite side, then another from the north, much closer. A faint green glow appeared over a nearby hill, and the red unicorn actually relaxed, a bit.

“Just a radiation storm, you pussies,” he said, “must have been the wind howling through the canyons. Get him chained up and get to bed. I want to make Appleloosa tomorrow.”

I soon found myself with chains on my legs, binding me to a tent post at the edge of the camp. I watched as the dark sky started to glow a faint green. An occasional flash could be seen to the west, accompanied by a rumble of thunder and a click of my Pipbuck’s Geiger counter. Radiation storm. It was all I feared it would be, as a trickle of acid raid began to fall around me, burning my coat and forcing me to hunker as close to the tent as I could. Flashes of high-radiation discharges made the clicking increase, slowly tapering until another flew across the sky like an angry Windigo. The green tinge to the sky only made the whole ordeal more depressing. I found myself wondering if things could get worse.

Then came the screams, again. An unearthly scream, as if the storm itself were wailing from the pain it caused. The glow brightened to the north, and a new red marker appeared on my EFS. Then another. And another. From all sides. Half-a-dozen new hostiles were approaching the camp. Before long, I could see the northernmost one.

It was kind of hard not to, as it glowed brighter than the raging storm. It looked like a pony, but its flesh was exposed and wrinkled, its mouth hanging agape in an endless wail. The abomination charged down the hill, rousing my captors to groggily grab their guns and look around in confusion. Once they saw the newcomer, however, they balked.

“Ghouls!” I heard one shout, “everypony run! Leave the prisoner, we have to get out of here!” the four of them started south, only to be met with another two zombies, though not glowing, charging toward them. Another two pairs closed in from the east and west.

I struggled against my chains to no avail. Looking down, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could pick them, especially with all the commotion around. I dropped into SATS and queued up a- Oh. Right. They took my saddlebags. I looked around. My Pipbuck told me these zombies were “ghouls,” except for the glowing one, which was called, well, a “glowing one.” Original. My captors were listed as “slavers.” Go figure. Right now, the chains were my main concern. I couldn’t pick them. I couldn’t break them. It was like the simulation: not enough tools for the job. I had to think differently.

The tent. Of course. As was everything in this camp (except the chains, which were surprisingly well-maintained, go figure), the tent I was chained to was old and worn. The wooden post was no bigger around than my leg, and half-rotten. I wasn’t the strongest of stallions, but I gave it a few swift kicks, anyway. I was rewarded with a crack as my hooves, though still tied together, were at least free of the camp.

Only to be pounced by a ghoul. Thankfully, not the glowing one, but this one was bad enough, as its teeth snapped at my throat and I pushed it away. It was unusually strong, and my rad meter clicked faster than ever from its ambient radiation. I started SATS, again, queuing up an attack on its head. I felt my foreleg punch automatically. It didn’t do much, but send the creature reeling enough for me to crawl free. A quick look around showed the slavers fairing no better.

Red was blasting away at the glowing ghoul, his buckshot mostly melting before it reached the monster. Two ghouls were snacking on a fallen earth pony, and the other two ponies sprayed their bullets wildly at the remaining monsters. The fallen pony was about a hundred feet from me, and his crude rifle rested beside him. It seemed my only chance, so I crawled toward him. The ravenous ghouls took little notice of me, being too busy with their meal, until my hoof was rested on the gun. The soft “click” of my chains on the weapon made them both turn their heads and scream.

SATS opened again and a bullet flew, punching clean through the closest skull, as the other two charged from either side. I rolled clumsily to the side, my chains tangling and jingling. My spell matrix couldn’t charge fast enough as I scrambled backward. I smacked the snapping jaws away with the butt of the gun, barely keeping them off of me.

My back hit something and I turned to find the red unicorn’s body, the glowing ghoul looming over it and me. I swore loudly and blinked into my compressed time spell, again. What did I have to work with, this time? 50% SATS charge. This crude pipe rifle, a beat-up shotgun, and…

I did a double-take as my eyes swept over red’s body. In his front pocket was a rainbow-colored inhaler. I recognized it from my classes – Dash. I’d never done drugs, before. I knew what it did to a pony. I also knew what these ghouls would do to this pony. A small chance of dying was much better than being eaten by ghouls.

The inventory spell built into my Pipbuck snatched up the inhaler and I took a large puff. Real life felt like SATS and I felt…

AWESOME.

I could do this! 50% SATS charge was more than enough. Red’s shotgun replaced the pipe rifle in my mouth and a thunderous crack sent the green ghoul sprawling. I turned and returned to the piece of junk, sending a flurry of non-assisted bullets into the approaching attackers. Most missed, but enough hit to slow them.

Crawling to my feet, I hobbled backward, alternating between the two guns, reloading and firing, not stopping to let them get close enough. Around and around the camp we went. The tents made adequate cover from the mindless ponies, allowing me to keep distance from them. One by one, the ghouls fell, until all that was left was the glowing one, staring blankly at me from across the smoking remains of the campfire.

The acid rain and radiation were taking their toll on me, but only seemed to make this beast stronger. I panted and shook as the Dash wore off. Only two shotgun shells were left, two slugs. I had to make them count, but my legs felt weak, my eyelids heavy. “Mild Rad Poisoning” appeared in the corner of my EFS. Less than a day, and I was going to die.

I closed my eyes, ready to give up.

No.

I saw Anna’s tears as I told her I was leaving. The pain in Random’s face as she closed the Stable door. Twilight’s tears as she made a promise to a frozen mare. The words she spoke to me across time:

“You will do great things,”

I rose to my hooves.

“and save many lives.”

The shotgun rose.

“Project Infinity is in your hooves.”

I had a mission. A purpose. I couldn’t fail. The ghoul charged with a ghastly wail. Lightning and thunder crashed around us as I met it head-on. Two shotgun blasts rang through the camp as the barrels plunged into the monster’s open mouth. With a final, pitiful screech, it slumped. I followed suit.

As I lay there, the green began to fade, and the rain lessened to a faint, non-poisonous trickle. I sat up and watched as the faint orange glow of sunrise lit the gray clouds. Turning, I saw a faint rainbow to the west, and couldn’t help but smile. I was alive. Highly-irradiated, burned, and locked in chains, but alive.

Slowly, I rose back to my hooves and over to a tent. Somewhere in this camp were my saddlebags, and a few packs of radaway in them. I searched the whole camp, even after finding the tangy orange drinks, and came out a little ahead on supplies, even after healing my burns and poisoning. By early afternoon, I was on my way again.

Needless to say, I was much more careful as I approached the military base. It looked abandoned, but I had already encountered slavers and zombies, so paranoia felt justified. My mind went back to that memory. West warehouse, back corner. I looked around. Only a few buildings still stood. Luckily, the one I needed still looked strong and sturdy, so I trotted up and put all my weight into the large doors.

The inside looked exactly as it had in the memory. Crates stacked to the ceiling, marked with everything from “rations” to “ammunition.” I noted one stack marked “Danger – Starmetal” and took note to look again later. The place was abandoned, so why shouldn’t I have a poke around.

First came the mission. I found my way to the back of the gigantic building. The unmarked crate stood as it had for over a hundred years, and I touched the lock. A loud groan indicated it hadn’t opened in nearly as long, and I descended the stairs into darkness, the light from my Pipbuck the only illumination I had.

“Halt,” the medical ponytron stood before me, rusty, but functioning, “this is a restricted area. State your name and business.”

I hesitated, but answered after a moment, “Memory Lane… here by order of Twilight Sparkle?”

It just looked at me, “Memory Lane. Authorization not found. Please vacate these premises and report to the nearest Ministry of Morale agent for memory modification.”

“Wait,” I stammered, “I’m from Stable 42. Twilight told me to come down here!”

Its gaze swept over me again. There was a long, awkward pause, “Stable-Tech uniform identified. Stable 42 resident. Welcome. Subject is stable. Please Stand by for dehibernation procedures.”

I wasn’t entirely sure “dehibernation” was a word, but I did as I was told and waited as the pod at the back of the room began to glow brighter and hiss with steam. Minutes passed slowly as I sat. Eventually, the stasis chamber rotated up and I stepped forward. With one final hiss, the lid cracked open and I gazed inside.

A young unicorn mare lay curled up inside the padded container. Her coat was paler than mine, with a slight yellow tinge, and the two-tone violet mane and tail contrasted starkly. A blue web sat on her flank as a cutie mark, meaningless to me.

She opened her eyes and gasped for air. The ponytron stepped up beside me and spoke, “greetings, Starshatter. It has been one hundred fifty five years since induced hibernation.”

Her eyes grew wide, and she curled up tighter. Her horn glowed a pale blue. She looked around and seemed to calm. When she spoke, her voice was raw and harsh, “the world is gone, isn’t it?”

All I could do was nod.

She met my gaze and I saw the blue in her eyes seeming to dance with her magic, “we need to leave. They’re coming.”

Footnote: Level Up

New Perk Added: Egghead Rage - Fluttershy. Is. ANGRY! When your Health drops below 20%, time slows and you gain +20 Damage resistance and do 20% more damage while the effect lasts.