Tales of STT, Stable of Death
STT. It stands for Stable-Tec Technologies. Perhaps the dumbest name in history, but stable-tec wasn't known for its brilliant ideas. Nowadays we just call it the ST Tavern, built on the remains of a stabletech manufacturing facility. It's just a nice tavern situated in between three minor trade routes. A perfect place to take refuge for the night against raids or other dangers. A few ponies had taken up living near the tavern just due to convenience and trade potential, regulars of the place.
The bar was headed by a old stallion with bad eyesight, coke-bottle glasses perched on his face. A few staff served customers and took care of things, including a young bright eyed colt. Despite the place's age he kept it nice, metal walls of the STT were easy to clean and impossible to penetrate.
Many considered the place invincible as long as the doors could be sealed in time, threats already inside those dual vault-like doors were the only real concern. Most they handled with ease, random drunkards the staff had to shoo away or a pony that refused to pay. One stallion named Witness was the exception, he always sat at the end of the bar alone and never seemed to pay. Most of the staff were uncomfortable around him... but in his own way he seemed to add to the place’s feel of security.
It wasn't till a large group of raiders got their eyes on the place that it's rumor of invincibility was put to the test. Two raiders had snuck inside along with a shipment of whiskey. They quickly took two of the staff hostage and prevented the taverns doors from sealing shut against the rest of their gang. It happened fast. Yelling and screaming followed by gunshots from outside. Crazed raiders poured into the tavern tieing up everypony they could get their hooves on. This didn't sit well with the lone stallion at the bar.
His eyes never left the drink in front of him. "You fools need to leave..." Witness stated in a calm voice. He didn't even turn toward them when he spoke. The raiders laughed and one of them knocked him to the ground. His response was impressive, shooting the first raider before he even hit the ground.
The others were taking defensive positions when their leader walked in, it was clear who was in charge. He was all smiles and oozed charisma that the other raiders lacked. The patrons watched as Witness got back up, and trained a hidden pistol on the leader. They expected a firefight, or an amazing display of skill from Witness.
*KCHOOOOW* Was heard through the tavern as the leader twitched his neck and a massive double barrel shotgun sprang from a mount on his back, shooting the recovering Witness in the face. There was silence, and death. It felt wrong, he was dead just like that. The many ponies in the bar were shocked and stared at the laughing leader. "OH come on now! Get back up! This place was suppose to be invincible! It didn't take me 5 minutes to plan this and take over."
He continued laughing and sat down at one of the main tables. He barked a few orders at the gang and they seemed more than content to obey. "Empty their pockets and keep what ya find! Just leave them alive, and unharmed." he yelled out. It was an odd request but clearly the raiders had heard this before. Soon everypony was tied up, the spoils and caps all spread through the gang. Many of the staff and patrons were forced to sit at the table with the leader as he began to chat with his captives. The bastard loved to talk. Even raiders it seemed could have "social butterflies" as it were, but this was worse. He never stopped, and listening to him go on for hour after hour about everything under the cloud layer... it was just torture. They were not hostages... they were new victims to talk to and torment, meanwhile his gang got the caps. It was a bizarre dynamic that only a group of raiders could develop.
Eventually he grew tired of the ponies silence, especially after telling them of all the other places that made their setup look like a joke. He stared at them and yawned with annoyance. "Come on... Why are you all so quiet? Isn't this a tavern! Ponies don't come here without some sort of entertainment! What's this place do for fun?" He asked the Barkeep who was tied up behind the bar.
"Umm... We... tell stories." He started to say but was cut off by one of the staff at the table "It's an contest we do. We tell Stable-tec stories, most of the caravans get their more advanced goods from ponies that explore the remains of stables. It's dangerous but always makes for a great story.... even if they aren't true! If the story is good enough ya get a free drink for the entertainment".
One of the other staff seemed to chime in on this "Yea... Like the one run entirely by mares! Darn thing even had the genetic equipment to make stallions unnecessary! I would love to find that one!" he said with a snicker.
One of the mares seemed annoyed, giving him a glance "Those are crap, the best ones always have the stable left completely dead with no clue as to what happened! Like that one with strange empty cocoons everywhere but not a bone or sign of life anywhere inside." She said seeming to forget their current predicament but was soon reminded by a *KCHOU* of the leaders gun firing into the air. All the ponies froze in place and stared terrified at the leader.
"You are kidding me? You call those Stables? Anypony can come up with a crappy tale of dumb ponies in a tin can underground. Let me tell you a story... Of the wastes most terrifying Stable."
"Everyone knows stabletech was batpony shit crazy. Setting up insane scenarios just to test what cultures could survive underground, they knew those stables were doomed to fail. Sure some pop open with survivors... but most are dead. Tombs waiting to be found and unleash their horrors upon the wastes." He pauses to pour himself a drink from a strange canister he had behind his back.
"Social experiments, science experiments, medical experiments... none of those compare to the Stable I am about to tell you about. The door had a “3” on it... the rest was melted away by... something. Its experiment wasn't some innocent test gone wrong, it was a control group. Rather than designing it to let them live... it was built to kill everypony inside it." He took another sip from his glass seeming to wince in the process.
"Every year the place would get more dangerous. Systems built to mimic failure and increase the hazards inside the stable. It was meant to run for ten years, just ten. Each year becoming more and more deadly. Built in a sulfur cavern it's system had excellent resources to produce sulfuric acid. That was the first year, systems seemingly malfunctioned and different rooms would randomly leak the stuff. Stable-tec built the place to withstand it though... and the next year... the automated turrets. Then the temperature..." He sighs thinking about it..
"It was a death trap, perfectly built to kill. But after ten years the place kept improving itself, every year getting more deadly. Once it finally did get found, the place was uninhabitable to any form of life. Couldn't even get twenty yards into the place before explorers ended up dieing to something. The turrets fired randomly at all times, the ceiling constantly leaked acid, even the air was toxic. And that isn't even beginning to mention the scalding temperature of the air." He shook his head taking another sip.
"Yet none of that is what made it truly terrifying."
"THE DAMN PONIES INSIDE IT WERE STILL THRIVING!" He said loudly to emphasize the shock of it. "Those fools at stable-tec had supplied the place with genetic research, and magic theories regarding physiology. They recruited the strongest and most resilient earth and crystal ponies to take part in its experiment. Hoping they would be able to adapt and survive for 10 years. But no... they managed it for 200 years. The things in that stable were no longer ponies, they were abominations of immense strength and resilience. Their coats were like metal, drinking acids that would kill other ponies. Even basic doors inside threatened to slam shut with hundreds of pounds of force unless they held them open. Those turrets? Like a cool rain"
"The wasteland is a joke to them. It had nothing to offer, no threats or challenges. Beyond the walls of their stable the world felt muted, numbing, even normal food was tasteless to them. Only one pony ever left that stable..."
He finished his story with a leading pause, leaving the feeling as if there was more to say. He lifted his cup back to his mouth and then his expression seemed to shift. With a slow motion the leader stared deadfaced at the staff of the bar as he poured his drink onto the table. It erupted into a pillar of smoke and filled the air with an unmistakable odor of acid eating away. "AND THAT WOULD BE ME!" he bellowed at the occupants of the room.
Two of the patrons nearly went pale as the drink began to sizzle through the table. Even the floor was damaged by the acid. Yet none of the raiders seemed to flinch, and oddly enough even seemed to be laughing at the captive ponies.
"Hows that for a ghost story of a vault! You fools wouldn't know a good story if it hit ya in the horn." He took an identical glass from the floor and drinks from it, also revealing a lead thermos with a hazard symbol on it in his other hoof. It was clear he had done a quick switch, making it only appears to be acid he was drinking.
The raiders shot their guns into the roof laughing in horrifying glee. He idly tossed the acid thermos at the barkeep knocking him and his thick glasses to the floor with a clatter as he grabbed the nearest tied up captive in a drunken hug! "Totally had ya didn't I! You know... that story was passed down from the last leader of our gang, dumb stallion didn't admit to it being false though. So I shot him in the head to find out. Idiot, never claim to be invincible if ya not! Always somepony willing to test it" He said with glee.
Eventually things calmed down and the raiders had to sleep, at least some of them in shifts. Others were busy fortifying the front and really making it cozy for themselves. The rest of the captives were taken upstairs and locked in a room. Meanwhile the leader had taken an unfortunate pony with a blue mane as his "bed buddy" into the back room.
The big guy was pretty content with himself. It was a great location to set up and take over, barely a gun in the place. It was a wonder how they defended it before this. But his glee was cut short part way into the night. There was yelling and two screams along with machine-gun fire. Before he could even get out the door something slammed into him and pinned him against the metal reinforced back wall. "WHAT THE FUCK! WHO the... barkeep?" he said looking into the thick familiar coke-bottle glasses.
It was him, but something was different. Back when the thermos of acid was thrown at him, some of it had apparently splashed his face. What it left behind was the unmistakable sheen of metallic fur. He spoke with his old raspy voice just one sentence.
"Some stories are best left untold."
The floor suddenly let out a CRUNCHING sound as he began to press against it with his back hooves. The wall dented with a creak of metal bending where it NEVER should have. But worst of all... was the sound of every bone breaking between the wall and the hooves of the old pony. Shattering as forces never imagined by stabletech were unleashed in a slow and dreadful way into the body of the raider leader.
The next day the bar reopened as if nothing happened. There was even a new lone pony with a blue mane sitting uncomfortably at the end of the bar staring into his drink. All of the captives had been upstairs when the raiders apparently left. Even offering free drinks the next day due to an apparent influx of caps.
