“Gooood morning, ponies of the wasteland!” blared a way too awake for 7:30 in the morning DJ-Pon3. “Just how are my favorite listeners? Good? That’s good. I figured today was as good as any to start with a wake-up call, so here it is! Now, some tunes.” After rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I sit up in my makeshift bed/booth. I knew I was too awake already to go back to sleep, so I figured to make the most of my time. Sliding out of bed and trotting to the bathroom of the Pony Joe’s I had taken residence in, I take note of all of the soreness and stretch. Pushing open the door I immediately note the rancid smell, almost like it was of vomit and alcohol.

Oh yeah, that was me wasn't it? I didn’t want to recall the events of the night before, realizing it was probably just me drowning my sorrows in booze again.

The sinks were all cracked or chipped. After washing my face and hooves I glanced in the mirror and realize just how much of a wreck I was. It was really a miracle I had made it this far in the wasteland. My usually deep blue mane was covered in puke, blood, dirt, and several substances I couldn’t even name. Due to my height I had to rear up and use my fore-hooves to hold the sink and get a look at my coat. The once vibrant orange was now a dirty brown. Scars traveled down my sides, long and still fairly fresh leaving small trails of blood in their wake.

“OI! We knows you're in there pretty mare!” A voice I recognized but wasn't sure where from sounded. “Jus’ come on out an’ we won’ hurt ya’!”

After trotting over to my stash I gathered what consisted of my belongings. A jet black, tight fitting recon suit was quickly shoved on, it would provide at least a little stealth in the early morning. My favorite weapon in the whole world was holstered to my right foreleg. It’s short barrel ending in a long thick suppressor, while the dark receiver and grip rest beautifully behind it. It looks small and weak, but from the right angle it is deadly, it could chamber special rounds for all situations.Finally I shrugged into my saddlebags, and placed the random junk that might be worth caps inside.

“C’mon mare, we asked nicely didn’ we?” Another voice called. This could perhaps be more difficult than I initially thought.

“Just give us what we came for and we won’t bother you any longer.” A much more gruff and proper speaking voice bellowed. The leader I assumed. I had no clue what he was talking about, maybe all that alcohol wasn’t such a great idea.

Without truly thinking about what to do, I climbed the service ladder to the roof to get a better view of what was going on outside. I approached the ledge to realize I was outnumbered, about twenty to one. I knew this was going to go very south very quickly if I didn’t comply. Climbing quietly back inside, I stash everything under a hollowed out space under a tile. After taking anything they might want of course, in hopes of bartering. Taking slow steps as not to alarm them I creep toward the front entrance.

“See tha’ wasn’ so hard, was i’?” I couldn't understand why it was so difficult to say ‘t’ for these ponies.

I played my cards carefully and gave them a quizzical look. The seeming to be leader just shook his head while’tsk’ing

“We just want the thousand caps you owe us. Unless of course you don’t have them, then we’ll have to ‘hehe’ work something out” I really hoped it was not sex he was implying, but it’s the wasteland, who isn’t implying sex? I pull out my chalkboard and write something simple.

“Work?”

It isn’t that I can’t talk, I just don’t. The only pony i ever spoke to was my mom and she is long dead. There isn’t a real reason, but I feel it sticks to the whole ominous, stealthy thing I have going on.

He let out an almost sad sigh and turned his head away. “I’ll take you to the boss then, but remember, if you need any… relief, i’m your buck.” Simply rolling my eyes I start to follow him when his goons turn toward me with objects covered in red, that obviously wasn’t paint, and give crooked grins. I just knew that this wouldn’t end well.

The first to swing was a skinny buck, barely older than a colt, but he knew where to swing. I wasn’t used to being so bare, so my reaction was too slow, and he caught me right in the knee. Each of my legs buckled under the pain but I stood my ground. The next two were almost perfectly in sync. One went for my legs again while the other swung at my neck. I could only dodge one, so I ducked my head. I hit the ground hard chin first, I heard a crack in my mouth. That wasn’t good.

There was a sharp crack to my head, that sent searing pain through my horn. It was just close enough that it would hurt, but not damage me permanently. These ponies knew what they were doing, I hoped that this work would be quick and easy. But since when was the wasteland so kind?

The burlap bag over my head felt un-necessary, as i was already blind with pain. Suddenly I was being dragged through the dirt. Toward what I assumed could only be hard labor and pain. I had a thought about then. I had survived this long to be captured by a gang of, who? Raiders, slavers, mercenaries? I had no clue, but I was so tired of being alone, I almost didn’t mind.

____________________________________________________________________________

Skill Note:

Level1:

S: 3

P: 2

E: 2

C:4

I: 6

A: 9

L: 2

Author's Note

I figured I would at least start a story. I hoped you liked the prologue. If you did please say so, any feedback at all is appreciated. I should hopefully get out another chapter this week. It will be plenty longer than this, I didn’t want to put my heart into something no-one would like.

Also I would like to thank Kkat for giving us this world to throw our ideas into.