With a huff of annoyance, I blew a lock of my brown and green mane from my face as I stood in front of an old pre-war single story building. It was an unimpressive sight to say the least, the glass of the windows was dirty and yellowed, the plaster was littered with countless cracks, and the word 'Emporium' above the door was crudely drawn with black paint.

‘I’ve seen abandoned ruins in far better conditions.’

Either it had been built with crappy materials, or the owner simply didn’t care about petty concepts like proper maintenance or aesthetics. Not that it really mattered, I wasn’t here to admire the architecture.

I opened the door with my magic and promptly cringed at the squeaky sound its rusty hinges made. The inside of the shop was just like I remembered from my previous visit barely a month ago: shabby, messy, and it smelled of dust, gunpowder and cheap alcohol. The low background rock music coming from the old radio on the counter did little to improve the depressing atmosphere. With a small sigh of resignation, I forced myself to walk inside.

While I made my way toward the counter at the end of the shop, passing through half-empty rusty shelves, the old wooden tables of the floor groaned under my weight. Hey, I’m not fat! It’s just that we alicorns are bigger than the other ponies in the Wasteland.

The scarred unicorn guard sitting in the corner gave me a hostile glare with his muddy amber eyes, just like last time. Not wanting be rude, I kindly glared back at him with my red eyes. I wasn’t sure if his coat was actually light grey or if instead he was white and looked grey because he was just dirty. I guess that working in a place like this makes washing your coat unnecessary. Why waste water when you will just get dirty again?

“Well, well, well. Look who’s back. If it isn’t my favorite alicorn customer!” The vendor, an old grizzled griffin sitting behind the counter, said with a sarcastic smile. He wore the same old blue waistcoat over the same striped shirt he had last time, only this time it was matched with a green bowtie, instead of a red necktie.

“I’m the only alicorn in this area,” I deadpanned, levitating the two sacks containing my looted items from my back. It had been a long week and I was not in the mood of dealing with this guy and his charming personality any longer than necessary.

“What have you brought me this time?” the vendor asked with feigned disinterest. His acting would have been probably more convincing if his eyes had not lit up at the heavy sound made by the bigger sack once I dropped it on his counter.

“Weapons, drugs, a set of armor,” I listed off while I started pulling out my loot, starting with the chems. Dash, Rage, Buck, Mint-als… The sooner I get rid of this damn stuff, the better it was. I’ve seen the effects of addiction on many unfortunate souls since my time with Unity and it was only with a certain reticence that I kept a few painkillers in my medkit for emergency.

“If you’ve brought me again that crap that raiders wear, you can spare the trouble of pulling it out. Only an idiot with suicide tendencies would buy it,” he grumbled in annoyance, before whistling in surprise when I pulled out a zebra assault rifle. Now I knew I had his full attention.

“The previous owners of this stuff were Red Eye soldiers,” I assured him, setting the automatic weapon on the counter along with a few pistols, a submachine gun and a marksmare rifle.

“Well, this explains the conditions of these weapons. Hey, but this is a set of Talon armor!” he exclaimed with a mix of shock and indignation at the sight of the black armor with a white claw painted on the chest.

“What? She shot first,” I simply said. “As you can see the armor is in good condition. It’s just a bit dirty with blood. And brain.”

“Headshot?” he asked uneasily, visibly disturbed by handling something that had belonged to a now deceased member of his own species.

I scowled inwardly. He didn’t seem to have any problem doing it as long as the stuff was looted from dead ponies. ‘Racist.’

“No. Metal pipe through the eye. I had to improvise,” I explained like I was commenting on the weather. Oh, would you look at that. Pony faces are not the only ones to turn green in disgust.

He put the Talon armor aside and started examining the various firearms. Unfortunately, I had not been able to salvage the other armor due to the messy death of their previous owners. Note to self: grenades tend to tear bodies to pieces.

“Alright. What’s your price?” he asked a few minutes later, putting the scoped rifle back on the counter.

“Four thousand caps,” I said without missing a beat.

The griffon bursted into a short hearty laugh. “Oh, you’re joking, aren’t ya?” he asked once he had calmed down a bit.

“I’m serious,” I replied, showing him my best serious-alicorn face. Which is basically my default face.

“Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Because the price you’re demanding is simply ridiculous. One and five.”

Now it was my turn to snort in amusement. “Not a chance. I risked my life for this stuff. Three thousand and eight hundred.”

“Two thousand caps, and I’m being generous,” he counteroffered, crossing his forearms. “I’m the only one round here willing to buy from you.”

“You mean the only one desperate enough to buy from an alicorn,” I corrected him while looking around. Hey, that spider web in the corner wasn’t there last time. That’s an aesthetic improvement.

The griffin scowled. “Now listen up, you green freak. Anyone else would have simply shot ya on sight the moment you stepped in their shop, so don’t test your luck with me.”

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the guard raise his double barrel shotgun and point it in my general direction. It was probably their standard procedure when dealing with difficult clients. I ignored his blatant intimidation and instead I remained focused on his employer. My shield was able to withstand the direct impact of a rocket, a couple of slugs were a breeze by comparison.

I emitted a short dark chuckle and leaned a bit forward, looming over the griffin. “Strange, a Steel Ranger once told me something similar. Guess who was the only one to come out alive from our animated discussion?” I asked rhethoticaly, flashing him a malevolent smirk.

His feline tail twitched nervously.

I maintained my steely gaze on the vendor for a bit, then I relaxed my posture. “One thousand and eight hundred caps,” I slowly said, much to his surprise, “plus ammo and other supplies worth another thousand.”

His calculative gaze went back and forth a few times from my goods on the counter to the minigun mounted on my combat saddle. He scratched his cheek, causing a few old feathers to fall on the counter.

“Deal,” he finally said.

I inwardly smirked. I knew from my first visit that he had a few crates of ammo for my weapon, but even if I was probably the only possible buyer within several miles, the prize he had demanded for the bullets was obscenely high.

In the end I was fairly satisfied. Along with a half dozen boxes of bullets for my minigun, I also managed to grab five grenades, some medical supplies and several boxes and cans of prewar food.

“Is that all?” he asked, eyeing my now full cap pouch being placed back in my saddlebags, followed by the items I had purchased.

“Yes,” I said, much to his dissatisfaction. Gosh, not for the first time I’m wondering if the old stereotype about the griffins being greedy bastards is actually true.

“Alright then. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you,” he said with a faux smile, which quickly turned into an annoyed scowl. “Now move your oversized green ass outta my shop. You’re scaring my customers,” he said, jerking the thumb of his left claw toward the door.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s no such risk. You don’t have customers,” I replied with a sweet tone before leaving the shop, making sure to slam the door behind me.

I heard the muffled voice of the griffin as he threw me a couple of insults, but I ignored him, enjoying instead the fresh air filling my lungs and washing my nostrils of the stale smell I had been forced to endure inside the emporium.

I took a moment to look around. The Wasteland was full of depressing places, but this probably deserved a place in the top ten. Six houses, a two story saloon and an emporium that fiercely opposed the evil scrubbing syndicate. This was the glorious town of Bitter Dust.

Located in the middle of a small valley at the base of the Macintosh Hills, the small settlement had originally been a refueling station built on the way to the old coal mine of Broken Hoe, but by the time of the firing of the megaspells the place was already abandoned because the mine had been exhausted years before the war against the zebras.

Bitter Dust was now a place where the occasional merchant and traveler could rest for the night and have a drink in the nearby saloon before resuming their journey.

You would expect that a place like this would have long since turned into a flourishing trading hub, were it not for the little detail that less than a day of walking east was the town of Burger Queen. What had once been a popular fast food joint had quickly become a proper settlement after the war due to its strategic position on what remains of the old Highway 19, intercepting most of the traffic of caravans in the region.

At least, that's what I learned from my first and last visit of the town from the unicorn ghoul working as a cleaner at the local saloon. Chatty guy, quite decent to be honest, although he was probably just a few steps shy from turning into a feral. Meh, I can understand him. Being forced to spend two centuries in this cesspool would drive anypony to insanity.

Speaking of the local drunkard factory, a small group of stallions came out of the building right as I was about to pass in front of it.

The six ponies, dressed with an assortment of combat armor and leather clothes, were loudly chatting among each other, occasionally bursting into laughter, but the moment they saw me they fell silent and stared at me with different expressions, ranging from surprise to diffidence, to open hatred in the case of a burly earth pony with an eyepatch over his right eye. The right side of his face was devoid of any fur, instead it was covered with pale scar tissue. I knew the damage caused by a combat spell and judging by his reaction when he saw me, I had the suspicion it wasn’t the first time he met an alicorn.

‘Better ignore them and don’t give them any reason to attack me. The last thing I want is starting a fight,’ I thought, looking straight in front of me in order to not cross their gazes. Just to be safe, I also kept ready my magic to cast my protective shield at the slightest sign of danger.

It seemed to work, as I passed in front of the caravan guards I heard a few of them muttering curses at me, but they didn’t seem to show further signs of hostility.

Once I was far enough, I sighed in relief. All things considered, I was quite satisfied of my visit to Bitter Dust. I had successfully sold all my loot, I had new supplies and most importantly, none of the ponies in town had the brilliant idea of shooting me in the butt.

… What? That’s not a thing to laugh at. A bullet in the butt hurts. A lot. Even if you’re an alicorn with regenerative abilities. Trust me, I know it from direct experience. The thick leather armor that I wore was decent protection against knives and blades in general, but it was almost useless against firearms.

‘I really need to find a body armor that fits my size,’ I thought not for the first time, glancing at my butt. Thanks to my particular biology, the wound had left no trace, not even a scar, but the circular hole in the leather left by the bullet was still there, along with some traces of blood. I sighed. Unfortunately it was easier said than done. It's not easy to find a set of combat armor when you're over two heads taller than the average wastelander.

I guess that by now you’ll be a bit confused by what’s going on. I apologize, as I said, it was a long week and dealing with that asshole of a vendor didn’t exactly help improving my mood.

My name is Aly and I’m a green alicorn. No, the name is not a diminutive for alicorn, I'm not that lazy. My full name is Apocalypse, but Skyla, one of my blue sisters, suggested I use a nickname because according to her I was already ‘a big green scary lady’ even without a name worthy of a herald of the apocalypse.

Eheh, sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Anyway, I’m what you could call a wasteland wanderer, a mare without a real destination or purpose in her life. Sometimes I accept odd jobs from ponies having problems dealing with raiders or hostile mutated fauna, but I’m not a real mercenary. The caps are a nice bonus, but I mostly do it because it makes me feel better helping them getting rid of the monsters that infest the world. Ironic, isn’t it? A monster that kills other monsters.

Maybe there’s also a bit of guilt behind my actions, after what I did when I was part of Unity.

Sometimes I have dreams about my life under the command of the Goddess. Not all of those dreams are good. I’d like to call the bad ones nightmares, but it wouldn’t be right. Nightmares are the result of our imagination, twisted fantasies created by our minds to show us our fears. Mine are not fantasies, but memories of things that I’ve seen or done.

… I don’t really like to talk about that part of my past, especially considering that I wasn’t really the one in control of my actions or even my body.

Luckily that chapter of my life ended a few months ago, when the Destroyer used a balefire bomb to blow up Maripony. Yes, that’s the name that my kind uses to refer to the Light Bringer, aka Miss Toaster Repairpony, aka the Stable Dweller. Or just Littlepip, for short.

When the Goddess died in the explosion, everything changed.

Let me tell you, being a fully self-aware individual can be difficult at times, even scary, but it’s thousands of times better than being a mindless drone, a puppet tied to the will of a creature whose mantra was basically ‘join us or die’, and whose actions had lead to the death of countless ponies, included several of my sisters.

If there’s something that I miss about Unity, however, it is the company provided by the hivemind. Sure, it basically meant no privacy, but it also meant that even when you were alone in the middle of the equestrian wasteland, you still had the minds of several other alicorns keeping you company. I guess that the rest of the world would call us alicorns crazy considering that we constantly heard the voices in our minds. Only that the voices were real. The sad thing is that some of my sisters were driven insane by the sudden silence following the death of the Goddess. Nopony likes being alone. It’s never a good thing to be alone.

I wasn’t nearby the old military base when it happened, but I was still able to hear in my mind the last orders of our creator. The Goddess may have been an egocentric mass of molten flesh, but at least she had the decency to not share with us her blazing death, instead she ordered us to fly away.

The first days following the destruction of the old military base were… confusion, a blurred series of images and stimuli as my body got used to my new situation. I don’t remember much of that period, but what I know for sure was that’s when my life really began.

It didn’t take me long to reach my destination, a parking lot located on the outskirt of the town, littered with the wrecks of several wagons, included some of those used before the war by the pegasi to carry other ponies and goods across the sky.

“I’m back!” I announced when I approached one of the biggest ones, a grey and black skywagon with the faded words ‘Gabby Express Deliveries’ written in yellow on the sides.

In response to my call, three ponies came out from one of the wagons, a purple unicorn mare and two little brown earth ponies. Grape Juice, that was the name of the mare, was a thin pony, so much that I could almost see her ribs through her coat. Her two-year-old foals, a colt and a filly called Root and Violet respectively, were in slightly better conditions, but only because their mother passed them most of her food when they were prisoners. Even after three days, the fur on their necks still showed the signs of the slave collars that they were forced to wear.

The mere thought that there are explosive collars the size for little foals makes me sick.

Speaking of foals, the twins were now looking at me with curiosity while jumping excitedly on their tiny hooves, clearly happy that I was back. They’re still shy around me and so far I’ve heard them speak a few words only with their mother, but I think that they see me as the ‘big green scary lady that kills the mean ponies but is actually nice even if she still looks scary’.

Their mother offered me a little tired smile, obviously relieved to see me again. However, judging by the occasional nervous twitch of her short tail and the way she avoided crossing my gaze, I could clearly tell that my presence still made her nervous.

I’m still not sure if it’s because of my appearance, or for the bad reputation that my kind has across the Wasteland, but I don’t blame her either way. Alicorns tend to have this effect on the other ponies. The fact that she had personally witnessed my fight against the slavers didn’t really help making her more at ease. I’m glad the foals were not looking. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Here, lunch is served,” I said with a little smile, opening my saddlebags and pulling out some of my recently acquired supplies.

The three ponies looked at the food with barely contained enthusiasm before digging in like starved parasprites, just as I expected. Most of the food of the slavers was accidentally destroyed during my raid in their camp, and what little supplies I had with me had barely lasted long enough to reach Bitter Dust. Luckily for us, being an alicorn means that as long as I have access to radiation I don’t have a real need to eat, so I had been more than happy to give them my rations.

While they eat, I pulled out a bottle of Sparkle Cola from my saddlebags and opened it, drinking a long gulp. Aaaah, wonderful radiation. Refreshing yet warm. The taste of carrots in the soft drink wasn’t bad either.

“So? Any news about your friend?” I asked while lying on my belly, both to get more comfortable and to try to put the mare more at ease in my presence. I only partially succeeded, for even this way I was still much taller than her.

The unicorn took a spoonful of beans from her can and swallowed it after barely chewing it. “The ponies I’ve asked said that his caravan passed here last week,” she said with a crestfallen expression.

I sighed and took another swing from my bottle of soda. ‘I would have been more surprised if we had actually met them.’ Her friend, a buck called Double Hit, worked as a guard for a small caravan that operated in this area. The idea of the mare was to meet the caravaniers and join them until they reached the town where her cousin and her family lived. It was a very far fetched and vague plan, but it was the best we could think of after I saved them from those slavers.

“What’s the plan now?”

The unicorn scraped out the last remaining food and put down the now empty can, then she looked at her foals, who were happily eating a few prewar cherry snacks, blissfully unaware of the rest of the world with the typical innocence that only young children can have.

“I- I guess that we’ll have to reach Daisy’s family on our own,” she said with a grimace, looking at the 10mm pistol strapped to her thin waist. The weapon had once belonged to one of the slavers, but instead of selling it like the others, I had instead decided to give it to her. The pistol was easy to use and maintain, yet it was reasonably powerful and the ammo was quite common and relatively cheap, all factors that made it a good choice for somepony with limited experience with firearms.

Not that her new weapon had miraculously turned her into a deadly sniper. I think that radroach would still be laughing, if I had not taught it a bit of education with my hoof.

From what she had told me during the last few days, Grape Juice used to be a cook in the small inn that she ran with her husband until their town was attacked a few months ago by a group of remnants of Red Eye’s army. The only reason the bastards had not sold her and her foals was because apparently they had killed their previous slave tasked with cooking for ‘putting too much salt in the soup’.

The mare got back on her hooves and, with a certain amount of effort, levitated the saddlebag containing their few belongings out of the skywagon. I didn’t miss the fact that she used her teeth instead of her magic to fasten the straps of the saddlebag. No good. “Thank you for everything, miss Apocalypse. I hope I’ll be able to repay you one day.”

I looked at her with a raised brow. “Wait to thank me. We still have a few days of travel before we reach your cousin’s town.” I downed the remaining cola and threw away the bottle.

The unicorn blinked in evident surprise. “What? But, I thought that you only agreed to bring us here...”

I gave her a mildly amused look. “Lady, forgive my bluntness, but I seriously doubt that a half starved unicorn with two little foals and really crappy aiming skills would last longer than a day in the wasteland,” I said, putting the remaining food back in my saddlebags. “I’ll escort you three to your destination, then, and only then, I’ll go back doing… well, whatever I was doing before killing those scumbags.”

The mare simply stared at me speechless for a few seconds with her now teary green eyes, before literally throwing herself at my front hooves and hugging my forelegs. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she cried repeatedly.

“Alright, alright,” I said, gently patting her back with a wing while looking around with a somewhat uncomfortable and embarrassed expression. “Please, don’t hug me in public. I still have a reputation to keep up with those as- asocial meanies, yeah.” I corrected myself at the last moment, mostly for the sake of Root and Violet. It’s not that I have some issue with swearing, but Skyla would not approve if I did it in front of foals. I briefly wondered how my blue sister would react if I did it. ‘She would probably scrunch her muzzle and give me her worst disappointed face.’

Adorable, yet hardly scary. Well, maybe a bit. But mostly adorable.

“Come on, then. We still have several hours of light before it gets dark, better take advantage of it.” I gently grabbed the two little foals with my magic and levitated them on my back, much to their delight. They were still too young to walk for long distances and their mother was in no conditions to carry them. The first time I did it the mare had spent the entire day glancing not so subtly at me with a worried expression, probably afraid that I would fly away with her foals, but by now she had gotten used to it and now her only concern was that they may fall from my back.

It must be a mom thing.

I’ll have to ask her if the job of a mom is being continuously worried. I can’t be sure, I mean, I’m a mare so I too should have my maternal instinct, but I wasn’t technically born and I’ve never been a mother myself.

… Right?

I suddenly felt a strong twinge of pain in my head as soon as the thought crossed my mind. I have to be careful, thinking about the time before my transformation always leaves me with a mild headache and a few confused images lingering in my mind. I blinked a few times and the pain was gone, along with the snippets of memories. I’m not even sure if those memories are mine or if they belong to another pony, but I guess that’s normal when you spend most of your time as part of a hivemind.

I glanced at my small traveling companion. Grape Juice didn’t seem to have noticed anything. Good. There’s no point getting her worried for me, it’s not like she could help me anyway, and she already has enough things to be worried about on her own.

Two of which are now softly snoring on my back, cozily nestled between my feathery wings. Between the relatively abundant meal consumed after days of a forced diet and the gentle rocking of my back as I walked, it’s no wonder they fell asleep almost instantly. It usually took at least an hour.

I turned my head to glance at them, just in time to see Violet give a slight kick in the air, while Root is smiling. Aww, they’re dreaming! So friggin’ cute.

“Miss Aly?” Grape Juice suddenly called to me, breaking the silence. Hmm, she’s using my nickname now. I guess she’s finally at ease in my presence.

“Yes?” I asked, looking down at her.

“I know I already said it before, but… thank you. For everything.” Her smile was completely genuine, devoid of any traces of fear or even just nervosism.

I smile back. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve never asked you, why are you doing this? Why are you helping us?”

In the fucked up nightmarish place that was once known as the reign of Equestria, such a simple question is more complicated than expected.

The wasteland is a cruel place, where the real currency are not caps but blood, and the most common language is violence. A place where heroes die while trying to save strangers, whose most common reaction is not to mourn the death of their unexpected saviour, but to thank the Fate that someone else died instead of them. A place where ponies turn into monsters to escape their miserable existences, only to bring misery to others, fueling a vicious cycle.

This has to change.

There are ponies that think that you need a hero to save the world. I can agree with them… to a certain degree at least. After all, it’s thanks to a hero I’m here now. Like many others in the Wasteland, I admire Littlepip for what she did and I respect her sacrifices.

A lot of ponies however miss the true meaning of what she did. A hero is supposed to inspire others to take action against the injustices and help at making the difference. It’s not something easy and it can be dangerous, but waiting for someone else to risk their lives to solve a problem when instead you have the power to do it by yourself is simply an insult to all those who suffer and die for the betterment of this world.

I could have joined the Followers of the Apocalypse like many of my sisters did, helping Velvet Remedy and her friends rebuild Equestria from its own ashes. Tempting, but I knew it wasn’t my call. I decided instead to wander the wasteland to find who I really am and what my purpose is, helping those in need that I met during my journey.

I did some unpleasant things in the past, things that may not have been right but were necessary, and I spared other ponies the horror of being responsible by doing them myself. Everypony has a role, no matter how big or small. The world needs teachers that teach little fillies how to read, just like it needs Applejack Rangers to protect a settlement from the Hellhounds.

I like to think that if everyone did their little part in everyday life, the world would no longer need heroes.

“I’m just doing my part to make the world a better place,” I replied honestly after having spent a few moments collecting my thoughts. “If you have the power to help those in need, then you should do it, or you would just spit on the graves of the countless heroes of the Wasteland.”

“That’s… that’s really noble,” she said, surprised. “The world needs more ponies sharing your philosophy.” Is that a hint of admiration that I’m hearing? Maybe. I just gave her a shrug in response.

“What will you do next?” Wow, she’s really chatty now. Not that I mind, to be honest. Ponies are social creatures by nature, and alicorns even more, probably due to our telepathic abilities. I don’t have big issues traveling alone, but after three days spent with barely a conversation her change of attitude was welcomed.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I’ll keep wandering, I guess. I still have a lot of places to see, bad guys to kill, and questions to solve.” Like where the fuck did I come from before I emerged from that vat of chemicals and molten flesh in Maripony. “And I have a lot of questions.”

She noticed my suddenly sour mood and fell silent. For a bit the only noise was that of our hooves on the old asphalt of the street, but after a few minutes she spoke again. “I’d like to know more about you. How you turned into the mare you’re now after…”

“After Unity?” I offered. Grape Juice nodded hesitantly, knowing it wasn’t a pleasant subject. Details about the horrors behind the origin of the Maripony alicorns were starting to spread across the wasteland, mostly thanks to DJ PON3 and his radio. “It’s a long story,” I said, looking at the distant outline of the Macintosh Hills standing in the horizon.

“Well, as you said, we still have a long way to go.”

Clever mare.

Her friendly expression slowly dropped, probably fearing that she’d just hit a sore spot. “Unless you’re don’t want to talk about your past.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” I reassure her. “As long as we don’t speak about Unity.”

I took a few moments to think, collecting my thoughts.

“It all started a few months ago, when the skies were still closed and the sun was still hidden…”

Author's Note

Since I read Fallout: Equestria a couple years ago, I've always desired to write my own side story, but without success. The concept of this story dates back to the first time I saw the first trailer for Fallout 4, but it was just a few months ago that I finally managed to transform the idea in words.