Fallout Equestria: What We've Lost (Original Version)

by Niveleur

Rating: mature
Tags: Crossover
Length: 1743

A story about a Griffon who had survived the war and The Last Day. He lost it all but continues on for what he's lost.

This is a story I had begun work on at the very beginning of the school year in 2016 out of sheer boredom. The story may never be completed but both versions will be posted and if at all updated.

Set as mature because I have no clue what the fuck I'm going to do with it.

The Wasteland is hell. You can go up and talk to the youngest pony or the most grizzled ghoul and you'll get the same story. What most can't tell you is how gruesome the war itself was. That's where ponies come and ask me. If there's one thing the wasteland has taught me it's this: "Survive"

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-01-21 06:10:01 UTC

Chapter I: "The War"

“There’s a sense of pure fear when you see that green haze engulf an entire city. The only kind of haze that you see when a Balefire bomb detonates. Then you hear the screams when the wind carries them. The screams of the dead and then the screams of the dying. Foals, mares, stallions, you can hear them. Even after the bombs you can still hear them, echoing throughout the ruined cities.”

Artillery shells land close, spraying the trench with dirt, rubble, and bits of gore from the dead. I adjust the helmet on my head with a clawed hand, myself and uniform covered in mud and grime. Machine gun fire from both our side and theirs occasionally picking off anypony that tries to look over their trench at each other. I check the pocket watch; Half past ten, an hour and a half until we go over. I put it away, picking my rifle up from where it lay and chamber a round, shouldering the rifle and looking down the cracked and beaten scope at the Zebra’s trench and picking off the ones that try to gather the wounded or that try to do the same as I until it’s time to go over. The time passes gruelingly slow, and I check the watch again; 11:56. “Ready boys, four minutes until we go over the top! Make damn sure you’ve got plenty of ammo and your gas masks!” The ponies in the battlements drop down to check their gear, ready to go over the top after myself. The four minutes goes by quick. I yell out to the soldiers behind me to gather at the ladders, myself placing my claws on the wooden ladder in front of me. I brought the gold whistle to my beak, blowing into it as hard as I could, letting it go for the chain catch it back around my neck and forcing myself up and out of the trench under the hail of gunfire, spark rifles, snipers, machine guns, and other miscellaneous rifles firing tracers zip across No-Pony’s land like fireflies in a windstorm.

I pulled out my service pistol, waving it in the air and yelling out for the charge, the masses of ponies bursting out over the trench. At this point in the war, trench warfare was the thing, Spark weapons were in their infancy, Vertibucks were only being thought of, and many other Equestrian technologies were only being tested. I never made it to the enemy trench. I was shot by a Zebra’s Anti-Material rifle, the round went into my shoulder and passed through a lung, just barely missing my heart but blowing out my left arm and left wing. As I lay in the mud bleeding out, one of the soldiers in the platoon I led, a unicorn named Woodwind, was unknowingly to me a test subject of the Mk. I Phoenix Talisman. I couldn’t help but watch as she took her knife and cut the talisman out of herself, jamming it into the gaping wound. It kept me alive but didn’t restore the damages done. She died from her wounds, bled to death long before the medics arrived. I was taken to a field hospital near Mane. I spent five weeks in the field hospital and then six months in a military hospital in Canterlot. Some project had been able to give me cybernetic prosthetics and then sent me back out into the field, I fought for the next several years until the end of the war. My name is Brigadier General Astraeus Stonefeather, formerly Royal Gryphonic Military and Royal Equestrian Military. I fought for a nation that wasn’t even my own during the Great War and I would’ve ended up dying for it. I was on Command for the Stalliongrad Military Base when the bombs fell. I saw the haze from the cities of Marescow and Stalliongrad.

Two hundred years. That’s how long I’ve wandered the Wasteland. I saw the radioactive snow and the sweltering heat, the Pink Cloud in Canterlot. I’ve seen it all, even the bodies of my own family.

Chapter II: "The Wasteland"

The wind howls through the rotting frame of the building, the building itself creaking and groaning with every gust. As I sit here I think about everything that’s happened. I’ve thought many thousands of times about cutting this fucking talisman out, but every time I’m swayed not to. It’s almost as though something wants me to keep moving forward, which I listen to. Perhaps one day I’ll die and be reunited with her but as of right now, that’s not going to happen. My thoughts are cut short by errant gunfire and yelling.

What the wind carried was “I’m gonna fuck you up, bitch!”

That snapped me into action. I grab my rifle, the same one that served me the day I “Died” and leap off the building, snapping my wings out and flying to the noise.

I land atop another building that crumbles slightly under my step. I pull out the rifle and slide the bolt on the rifle back, chambering a round. I spot several raiders cornering a mare and her caravan. What once was the rest of her crew lay dead in the street. My first move is to set up the rifle, tuning out the yelling and setting the scope on one of them, slowly squeezing the trigger. The rifle fires and the bullet punches through the raider’s head, spraying out a copious amount of brain and blood. The body crumples to the ground causing the other raiders to look around for the shot. Next round. I chamber the second round, squeezing the trigger again, dropping another one. I chamber the third one, the spent casing bouncing across the roof with several pings. Lining up the shot is easy, the third one drops and skids across the ground. I eject the spent casing and set the safety, slinging it between my wings. Pulling out the pistols I keep on holsters in my duster, I leap off the building and snap my wings back out. I dive and tackling one of the raiders as I hit the ground, putting two 10mm rounds through her head. I swing myself around as the remaining three raiders start firing, several rounds impact the armor plate and a couple hit me in the arm. The three raiders realize too late I wasn’t going to drop so easily as I raise my pistols, putting several rounds into two of the others and then another final round through the head of the third, killing him immediately. Just by her voice alone she’s obviously terrified.

The mare stammers, “Y-y-you h-h-how?”

I dust myself off, holster the pistols, and examine the dents in my armor, not even looking over at the mare as I speak. “Fuckin’ raiders. I suggest you get the hell out of here while you can, The town’s gang will converge on this position soon. Don’t worry about me, worry about yourself.”

The mare responds “O-okay.”

She quickly hitches the cart back up and gallops off. I open my wings and push off into the air and to wherever the wind blows for me.

Chapter III: "Three Months Later"

“Lieutenant Stonefeather? Ah good, you’re awake.”

The doctor says, my eyes fluttering open. “How are you feeling? Your operation went well.” He continues as I slowly regain consciousness.

“W-what? Operation? What the fuck are you talking about?” I respond. My voice is shaky and panicked as I start looking around.

“You were wounded in combat, one of the soldiers in your command was a test subject for the Mark I Phoenix Talisman. She sacrificed herself to save you. Your operation was for mechanical prosthesis for you to return to the field. You’re in the Canterlot Interministry Hospital and I am Doctor Scalpel.” He counters. I lift my left arm, seeing the gunmetal grey appendage. It’s a relatively simple thing, a skeletal design with a talisman provides it with energy for it to move, my mechanical wing was designed in the same general manner. I start to move the talons on the claw, each digit moving exactly as it would. “Doctor, how long have I been out?” I say, the doctor quickly responding, “Six months. Not including the five weeks reported in a field hospital. Don’t worry, two or three weeks of therapy and you’ll be back before you know it.” He then turns and trots off, leaving me to slip back into unconsiousness.

I can feel the wind rushing through my feathers and through my fur, reminding me of a time long past. I was young then. Since I had learned to fly at a very early age I had a lot more freedom than most other Griffons at that point in their lives, usually because they themselves were still learning. It's been three months since my encounter with that mare, I'm pretty sure she's dead. I set down about five hundred feet from the settlement, two other Griffons and a Pegasus soon land behind me.

“Alright guys we’re only here for what we need, you understand?” I say as I turn around, facing the other three. The two Griffons are “Goldie” Goldwing and Butch Grimstone, who everyone calls “Butcher.” The Pegasus is a mare named Cloudy Skies.

“I’ll get ammunition” Butcher drawled.

Cloudy Skies quickly pitches in “I’ll get parts for our guns!”

Goldie soon follows, “I’m getting explosives, if you need anything of the sort, let me know now.”

“Alright, well that leaves me, I’m getting supplies and selling some of our haul. Don’t buy anything you won’t need.” I say as I turn towards the settlement. As the four of us make our way to the main gate, two guards armed with hunting rifles step in our path.

“Now y'all need to check yer iron before we letcha in there, ya hear? We can’t have you runnin’ ‘round causin’ trouble.” One of the guards drone. I open the bolt on my rifle and eject the only round in there, quickly catching the bullet and placing it in a pocket. The others soon follow suit and we’re let through. Everypony goes their separate ways in the lines of shops, leaving me by myself. I soon find the general store and enter, being greeted by an old buck.

“Welcome to Supplies and Such. Name’s Ol’ Brass. So whatcha need?"