Fallout Equestria: No Place Like Home

by The Infernal Queen

Rating: mature
Tags: Crossover, Death, Human, Anthro, Drama, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Self Insert, Profanity, Adventure, Violence
Length: 15153

Cassandra is trapped in the post-apocalyptic city of Vanhoover as a Two-Leg. She just wants to go home, but fate has a whole lot more in store for her.

Vanhoover: the forgotten city. Isolated in the far reaches of Equestria, well away from the War, it is full of its own mysterious secrets, such as the Two-Legs, those strange ponies that walk on only two legs, with hands instead of forehooves. The Dawn, led by a unicorn no one has ever seen, who controls the various slavers and bandits of the area like her own personal playtoys. And then there's Cassandra... that is, me. I'm stuck here, here in this wasteland, and all I want is to go home. But it'll be a long road.

Published 2018-02-18 15:00:07 UTC
Last updated 2018-02-25 17:39:06 UTC

Chapter 1

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s brought joy to so many people across the world, forging new bonds of friendship and hope for so many people. Fans of it have come together to create gorgeous fanart and thrilling fanfiction; you name it and I’ve read it.

I’ve always wanted to visit Equestria. What brony or pegasister hasn’t? You’d get to see all kinds of magic. You could soar in the sky with Rainbow Dash, rolling around on clouds like they were pillowy carpets. Or observe the stars with Twilight Sparkle, or even bake cupcakes with Pinkie Pie. Hell, I’d happily have moved there if I could, so long as my family and my boyfriend could come along.

But of course I couldn’t, because it’s not real. No matter how much I might enjoy daydreaming about it, or writing stories about it, or just lying in bed thinking about it at night, it’s not real, and I’d never fool myself into thinking otherwise.

Or so that’s what I thought, until the day of April 1st, 2018. Yes, April Fool’s Day. The irony is not lost on me. I found out that day that Equestria was very much real, and I was going to get my wish. But not the way I wanted, oh definitely not.

My name is Cassandra. I’m thirty-one, from Vancouver, Washington. I’m writing this down in the hopes that people, ponies and humans alike, will remember my story. So they’ll know what happened to me, so my family and boyfriend won’t be left wondering where I went or what I experienced. I’m writing this just before… well, I don’t want to give away spoilers. So take a seat and pour yourself a drink; this is going to take a while.

~*~

My story began with me awakening on a hard surface to the sound of a fan-voiced Fluttershy asking me to wake up. This in and of itself was not unusual; my boyfriend and I sleep on the floor in the room we rent from our roommate, because we don’t have room for a bed on top of everything else. But what was unusual was the complete darkness; I couldn’t see a damned thing other than the faint glow of my phone’s screen. This was odd because I work a swing shift starting in the late afternoon, so I stay awake at night and sleep during the day. No matter how many blinds we cover there’d always be plenty of light when I awake.

I groped blindly for my phone to turn off the alarm, then yawned and rolled over to go back to sleep. I kept multiple alarms so I knew I had at least another twenty minutes before I had to get up, and I was too groggy to care about the darkness. Only when I rolled over my shoulders--at least I thought it was my shoulders--ached fiercely as though I’d just banged them on a wall. I groaned and sat up to rub at them, only to slam my head directly into something solid and metallic directly above me, filling my vision with stars.

Thoroughly confused and awake at this point, I became aware of other weird sensations, like how my legs were hanging off the bed--hanging off a bed I shouldn’t have been on. I was warm all over, even though my blanket was missing and I was nude. And my whole face felt weird, like my nose had swollen. I raised my hand to my face to rub the bruise only to accidentally slap myself when I ran into my nose and mouth a lot further in front of my face than they should have been.

I muttered a brief curse as I tried to sit up, more slowly this time so I didn’t bruise my head again. “Harold!” I shouted, calling for my boyfriend. No answer.

I cursed again, and reached for my phone, turning on its flashlight. The beam was weaker, weaker than it should have been, but it was enough to illuminate my legs and other hand.

Enough to see fur all over me.

I shrieked and dropped my phone. It clattered with a clang to the metal floor, spilling out of its case. “What the hell?!” I demanded as I backpedaled only to slam into the wall behind me. “Oww…” I groaned as I banged my head yet again.

“Okay, okay, Cassie, calm down,” I told myself. “This is probably just a really weird dream. Yeah. A dream. Right.”

Well I knew how to test that. I’d done a fair bit of experimenting with lucid dreaming when I was younger, and even though I fell out of practice I can still recognize when I’m dreaming about half the time during the dream. The easiest way is to try reading something. In a dream, words on a page won’t stay the same from second to second; they twist and churn like the readout of a slot machine.

I slipped out of the bed onto the floor, trying not to notice how the floor wasn’t nearly as cold on my feet as it should have been, and trying especially not to notice how my feet made little clop-clop noises. It was just a dream. Just an intense dream.

I grabbed my phone and opened up my reader app to the story I’d been reading last night. I stared at the words on the screen, daring them to move.

They didn’t budge.

I looked away from the screen for a few seconds, then looked again. Nope. Still the same. Not even an iota of difference.

“Damn it,” I said. “Damn it. Damn it!” In frustration I hurled my phone back onto the bed. It landed on the pillow with a soft flump.

Bereft of the phone, I was plunged back into total darkness. I could hear a slight mechanical rattling somewhere nearby, and a faint hum of machinery. Apart from that, it was a dead silence. Dead creepy silence.

I shivered. “Okay let’s get some light in here,” I mumbled, reaching for the phone. I found it after some fumbling and turned on its light, shining it around. It was so weak I couldn’t perceive much detail around me other than more metal on the floor and what might’ve been bunk beds. I shook it, trying to get it to be brighter, but no dice. A look at the battery meter showed that wasn’t the problem; it was at full charge.

“Stupid thing,” I grumbled as I searched mostly blind for some sort of light fixture. After some stumbling I located a wall and followed it to an oversized lever-like switch. “Please work,” I said as I flipped it.

Lights bloomed, bathing the room in a harsh glow. Even though I was ready for it I still had to cringe and cover my eyes for a few moments until I could blink the spots away.

The room was made of metal, with a surprisingly high ceiling, at least a clear ten to fifteen feet above me, full of cylindrical fluorescents. Bunk beds made of some sort of steel lined the room all around me. Each bunk bed had a set of lockers between it, lined with name tags. Everything apart from the bunk I’d been laying on was covered in a thick layer of dust. Surprisingly this didn’t seem to bother my nose, which was really weird because I could smell everything: the musty odor of the place, of slightly damp pillows and mattresses, and what were probably uniforms in the lockers. I should’ve been sneezing all over the place thanks to my allergies.

I took a look at one of the lockers to read the names. Names like Water Pump, and Clarifier. Pony names.

“Right, okay,” I said as I started to tremble. “I’m in some kind of barracks or something, made for ponies. I’ve been turned into a fucking anthro pony or something. I’ve got hooves, a tail, and...” I looked over my shoulder, finally spotting what I’d suspected I’d rolled onto earlier. “And I’ve got wings for Christ’s sake!”

I had to sit down. I slipped back onto the bunk I’d woken up on, forced into a stooped, bent over posture just to fit. “This isn’t a dream. This is real. Jesus Christ.” I set the phone down and put my face into my hands. My overly large, boxy muzzle of a face. Ugh. “What the fuck is going on here?” I mumbled. “This doesn’t make any sense! How the hell is this even happening?”

I spent a few more moments like that, just freaking out. Trying to get it all out of my system. But it wasn’t easy. I could feel the fur on my skin as I held my face. It was soft, luxurious, but it was still fur. Which a human being is not supposed to have. My wings--my wings!--started to flutter, banging against the metal walls of the bunk. Nausea gripped my stomach. Everything seemed to close in around me. I had to get up!

I leapt out of the bunk and onto my feet. Hooves. Whatever. Immediately my muscles unclenched a little as some--not all but some--of the panic left my system. “That was weird,” I said. I’m not claustrophobic at all, not really. I’m scared of being trapped but that’s a different thing altogether. I should’ve been just fine with the bunk, unless… I touched one of my wings, feeling the feathers. “Oh. Duh. Pegasus. Great, just great.”

I let out a huge sigh. The panic was fading; I guess I could only take so much shock before I started getting past it, at least a little bit. Or maybe this was just the eye of the storm. Whatever, I’d take it. I needed to see what I looked like, so I made for the ladies bathroom. Or would that be mares?

Inside I found about toilet stalls and a row of sinks down one side, and a set of open showers on the other. Everything was designed just a touch weirdly; I saw fewer handles and a lot more foot pedals. Even the showers had several little faucets on the walls in addition to the ones overhead.

I approached the mirrors over the sinks. I had to stoop down to get a proper look at my face since they were set a lot lower than any human other than a little kid would find comfortable. What I saw left my mouth hanging open.

At first glance it was like I was a human with an odd skin tone. Same overall body shape, with hands with four fingers and a thumb, with forward facing knees that led to flattened out feet. But then you notice the fur--or hair, really, because horses don’t have fur, even if it felt like fur. It covered me from head to toe, a pleasant bluish lilac that was actually quite nice looking. The hair on my head was in the exact same hairstyle I’d had as a human, very short but feminine, colored a pale pink with a large white stripe running down the middle. My tail was short and smooth.

My face did have a muzzle, but it wasn’t quite as boxy as I first thought. It was more smooth, smaller, still horse-like but not super long, maybe three inches out from where a human face would end. My eyes weren’t quite as large as I was afraid they would be. They were definitely larger, maybe twice the size of human eyes, but they were still shaped like human eyes, colored a dark amber, almost brown. My feet were hoof-like, but shaped like a human foot, with it split into a forward section and a rear section, such that the front was like one big toe and the back the heel. My wings, or what I could see of them since they refused to move, were the same color as my coat but with a lighter color near the tips, edging almost towards white.

My cutie mark was hard to see; I had to contort myself oddly to see it in the low mirror. It was a sun on the horizon of a grassy area, with what looked like a bullet cracking it apart, a pair of ghostly wings spread in its wake. My face twisted in confusing as I examined it. “What the hell is this?” I said. I couldn’t make any sense out of it. Sure, the open wings made some sense, maybe even the bullet, but why the sun?

While I was pondering that mystery, I studied myself a little closer. My body was, bizarrely, in perfect shape. Healthy body weight, plenty of lean muscle, even my teeth were shiny and white, though I noted with interest that they hadn’t changed at all from my human teeth, meaning I still had sharp canines and such. Which meant my diet as a pony or anthro pony… hupony? Whatever I was, my dietary needs were probably identical to a human’s needs. But why was I so healthy? I wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of physical condition before. Another mystery to solve.

I tried to move my wings again. They didn’t want to cooperate; I just kept shrugging my shoulders over and over. Growling in frustration, I took a deep breath to calm myself.When I tried again, this time just trying to move them like I would any other limb, they spread out, flapped a little, and withdrew, just like I wanted. At their full wingspan they extended just a little further than my outstretched arms. At rest they laid along my back reaching just to my hips.

“Alright,” I said when I finished playing around with my newest limbs. “Now what?”

I snorted--a rather horsey sort of snort that was a little disturbing--and tilted my head to the side. “Now, Cassie,” I grumbled at myself, “maybe you should get some clothes!”

If I could find any clothes that is. I didn’t hold out much hope that there would be human shaped clothes amongst all the pony stuff. And there wasn’t; all the uniforms were for a completely different body shape and far too small besides, even the men’s. Stallions. Ugh that’s going to drive me nuts.

But I did at least learn something from the uniforms: they had patches bearing a picture of what looked like a large V overlaying a sideways H, with the words “Vanhoover Wastewater” curled over the top and bottom. “Oh, Vanhoover, huh?” I said as I dropped the uniform to the floor. “Naturally. Of course I end up in Vanhoover, because I live in Vancouver. Thanks universe, we get the joke. Care to let me in on what’s going on now?”

Of course I didn’t get any kind of response, but I wasn’t expecting one. At least I was able to read everything I saw; if I’d had to deal with a language barrier on top of everything else I was just going to scream.

I hadn’t found what I needed anyway; none of these clothes would fit nor were there any sewing supplies or anything else I could use to maybe cobble one of them into something. Still I could at least do something with them, so I picked a couple up and tied them around me like a set of underwear. You know, just in case I ran into anyone.

“Where is everyone anyway?” I said as I made for the door. The huge amount of dust was… highly concerning. Everything looked as if it had just been cleaned up and then left to rot, which was an implication I did not care for. I should’ve seen someone around, somewhere. Maybe this room just wasn’t used anymore. At least that’s what I was hoping, because the alternatives were bad. Very bad. Like I didn’t even want to think about them bad.

I opened the door to find a pitch black corridor; the light spilling out the door only lit a small section. I rolled my eyes, went back to grab my phone, and used its light to find the corridor light switch. The lights flooded on, revealing the same kind of metal lining all the floors and walls; I was more than a little surprised I hadn’t seen any wood yet. Surprised and disturbed. It was more bad signs, and the possibility I was most afraid of popped back up in my head only for me to slap it down again.

I walked down the short corridor, stopping to poke my head into each door I saw on the way; I saw what looked like the bedroom for the head of the facility, judging by the nameplate on the door reading “Foremare Soft Sand.” There was an office for the foremare that I would search later, and a commissary lined with tables and benches and a smaller side kitchen. Like the barracks everything was coated in dust, but the rumble in my stomach made me head for the kitchen to poke inside a fridge.

Then I spotted a poster and froze. My body shook in fright as I started shaking my head saying “No, no, no please no please no please no,” over and over, but the poster didn’t change. It was a poster of Fluttershy. A Fluttershy with wrinkles under her eyes and grey in her mane. A pair of dark colored red eyed zebra flanked her as she looked on with an expression of sorrow. Words over her head read “War? Fear? Death? We must do better!” Below were the words “Ministry of Peace.”

“No!” I declared. I ran back to the office and poked my head in. Sure enough, there on the desk was a small, blocky computer terminal, complete with glowing green screen. “No!” I fled to the bathroom inside the barracks, only to see a pair of first aid kits colored bright yellow and decked with pink butterflies. “No, god damn it!” I shrieked.

I wasn’t just in Equestria. I was in Fallout Equestria. A post-apocalyptic wasteland, full of raiders and bandits and slavers and mutated monsters all aiming to kill me or rape me or eat me or all three at once. A place I didn’t think I had a hope in hell of surviving, even if I was in perfect health. I might be an American but I’ve never touched a gun in my life. I’m a total peacenik; other than maybe one time I’ve never even punched anybody! I didn’t know how to properly defend myself, or to hunt for resources, or to make campfires or do anything that would be useful in this situation. Not that I had any tools anyway; all I had were a pair of uniforms meant for a different species tied around my body.

All I really had was my health, a pair of wings I hadn’t the first clue how to use beyond basic flapping, and my mind. A well-read mind, one that knew everything about the general setting, that had read Fallout Equestria over and over. But that was it. No weapons. No food. No water.

I was going to die.

I sank along the wall to the floor, burying my face in my hands as I started to cry. Wet, messy tears streamed down my face, staining my coat. My sobs echoed in the bathroom as everything--the transformation, the sudden arrival, the depth of just how fucking screwed I was--hit me at once. “No, please,” I said over and over as I wept. “I don’t want to die…”

I don’t know how long I sat there crying, until my tears were spent. My throat burned as it was run raw, burning till I could barely stand it. My hands were covered in snot and wet tears. I just wanted to keep crying, or lay down in bed and sleep away til this all went away, til I could wake up at home and Harold would be there and he’d hold me and tell me it was all just an awful nightmare and I’d be safe and the worst I’d have to worry about was how late I’d be at work cleaning up that night.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be a fucking anthro pony. I just wanted to go home. Please! Just let me go home.

But of course, all the wishing in the world wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I had to get up eventually. Get right back on that horse and… wait, that’s a bad metaphor.

I had to get up. I had to at least try to survive. Even if I was depressed and miserable, I wasn’t going to just keel over and give up. I’ve had some dark moments in my life. Times where all I wanted to do, or at least thought I wanted, was to die. I’d even tried it a couple of times. But each time I seriously contemplated it or even attempted it, I backed out, because I never really wanted to die. I just wanted whatever pain I was experiencing to stop.

This was just another one of those times. I could get through this. I had to. Harold needs me. My family needs me. If I was going to get out of this and get home, I’d have to find the way. Something brought me here. That something could possibly take me back.

And I was going to find it.

With that decision I nodded to myself and struggled to my feet. I went to the sink to wash up, very happy to see water actually pouring out when I turned on the faucet, even if it was bone-chillingly cold. If I could find something to bottle it with, I could at least have plenty to drink. I cleaned myself up and wiped off anything remaining on another of the useless uniforms, then made my way back to the commissary. First up, I had to find something to eat.

I wasn’t sure what to expect to find in the fridges, since I didn’t know how long it had been since the balefire bombs had decimated Equestria. For all I knew it had been only a few decades; the place certainly looked preserved enough, with plenty of power. Even the fridge was humming as I opened it, its light switching on to reveal… nothing. Not a scrap, not even leftover mold.

I sighed and checked the other fridges only to find them equally bare. A search of the cabinets proved equally fruitless until finally in one last little corner I discovered a single lonely box of Sugar Apple Bombs cereal, coated in dust.

I scowled at it, looking it over to check the ingredients, because I didn’t want to eat hay or something else awful mixed in it. Only there was no ingredients list. Not even nutritional facts. Obviously pre-War Equestria didn’t have proper food label regulations. Figured.

Still, without any other option I went ahead and opened it, finding the cereal inside sealed in plastic just like I would with a box of Cheerios. I popped the bag open, took a handful, and chewed. Despite being stale it actually tasted pretty good, kinda like frosted bran flakes mixed with apple pieces. I took a seat on a bench and kept eating till I’d had my fill.

That done, I set it aside and went back to searching the place. Out the other door in the commissary I could see a hallway leading to a pair of double doors likely leading to one part of the actual facility; those doors looked surprisingly dust free, unlike the rest of the place. I left those for later, and returned to the corridor, following it till it led to a staircase that descended into darkness, where I could hear humming and drips of water. Probably the generator room.

Leaving that for later too, I went back to the foremare’s office to poke around, only to freeze again. I hadn’t seen it the first time I looked in, but there was a table in the sitting in the corner next to the bookshelves, arrayed with stuff. Neatly ordered stuff, set in little rows, little boxes next to larger boxes, what looked like a satchel backpack, a pile of clothes atop of something that might’ve been armor, some sort of bulky weird device I didn’t recognize at first glance, and a note.

I stepped over to read the note. It was oddly written, with lots of random color changes and looping swirls, and a few letters here or there were pasted out of a magazine or a book; it took me several tries to read it properly thanks to all the mess.

Well Hello There, Cassie! Took you long enough; I was starting to get bored.

You’ve probably figured out by now that you’re not on Earth anymore, and if not, surprise! I hope you got all your crying out of the way; you really should stop that you know. After all you got your wish! You’re in Equestria! Be happy! Your life is about to be a whole lot more interesting. And you’d better keep it that way.

But I’m not without mercy, so here’s some supplies to get you started. It’d be too boring if you couldn’t even make it past the first day! There’s a full list in the backpack. You should feel blessed; I even gave you a Pipbuck!

Ta-ta now. Try not to die too quickly; I’d hate to feel cheated. Good luck, because you’ll need it!

P.S. Go east.

I stared at the note, reading it over and over again. On the one hand, this really took a load off my mind; I mean having a Pipbuck was a major advantage gained. But on the other hand… try not to be boring? Keep it interesting? Who the hell wrote this? Was it supposed to be Discord?

I didn’t buy that for a second. I knew what happened to Discord in the FOE universe: he was locked up in a starmetal cage in the depths of a research laboratory in Hoofington, completely helpless.

So whoever or whatever brought me here was either trying to make me think it was Discord, to keep me guessing. And why me, anyway? What was so special about me, over any number of other fans of pony? Why the hell would I have become so healthy? Why turn me into an anthro? Why not just dump me as a human with the Pipbuck and nothing else?

Too much of this didn’t add up, and I had zero answers and no way to find any yet. So I tried to put those questions aside and picked up the backpack. I looked inside and grabbed the list of supplies right on top, scanning it. I had a nine millimeter pistol, four magazines with ten rounds of ammo each, travel clothes and armor plus helmet, three days worth of water and food, a small box of about five healing bandages, and a couple of books. I looked through them briefly; one was about gun use and maintenance while the other was about lockpicking and safecracking. Both Equestrian of course, so not all the information would be useful. Oh, and a knife.

That was it. Nothing else. I actually felt a little disappointed; I’d been hoping for something a little more powerful than a pistol, maybe some real medical supplies. But still this was loads better than nothing.

I set the satchel down and grabbed up the clothes. They were simple, just a khaki-brown t-shirt with little slits for my wings, a pair of khaki cargo pants with a hole for my tail, and a set of underwear, but as I slipped them on they felt like fabric from the gods. There was even a pair of steel toed boots, made of solid, strong leather.

The “armor” was actually just a kevlar vest to slip over the shirt and some gloves. No leg protection of any kind. The helmet wasn’t much better; it looked like a standard issue World War II U.S. Army helmet, although for some reason it bore my cutie mark. At least the vest had a few pockets to stick bullets or other things in? It was paltry protection, barely adequate.

After slipping it all on I withdrew the pistol, examining it carefully. It looked… strange. I was expecting something designed for Equestrians, with a mouthpiece and tongue trigger, but instead it looked more or less like a standard pistol you’d find at any gun store in the U.S.A., but with an oddly elongated stock, larger trigger, and no trigger guard, though there was a large button to one side of the stock that was probably the safety. The stock had weird scratch marks and cracks all over it, as though it had been hastily modified for use with hands.

I picked out a magazine from the little boxes of ammo and slid it in with a satisfying click. I took a moment to try aiming it, peering down the sights at the wall. It felt a little awkward; even though I was holding it in both hands I was still sure my stance had to be wrong, and didn’t want to waste any ammo on practice shots. Assuming I could even work up the courage to actually fire it at anyone; the very thought made the Sugar Apple Bombs in my stomach churn and threaten to pay me another visit.

So I put it in the holster on the vest, and picked up the Pipbuck. It was smaller than I expected, more streamlined and colored in shades of orange and amber rather than being plain metal casing. A proud little label near the bottom of the screen read, “Pipbuck 3000 ME” with a bright little pony smiley face next to it. Must’ve been a newer model. Hopefully it would be able to read my anatomy correctly.

After some fumbling I managed to slip it around my left wrist; it closed automatically, sealing tight in just the right way to be comfortable without feeling like I was clapped in irons. The screen lit up immediately in shades of dark orange; I started when lines of orange colored words appeared right in front of my eyes.

Congratulations on your purchase of the Pipbuck 3000 ME, now with multispecies support! Your Pipbuck will automatically configure itself for your use; please wait patiently until it has fully loaded.

More lines shot across my vision, mentioning various subsystems like inventory booting to 100%. After several moments of this it finally chimed once, with a last line of text proclaiming it was ready for use.

I looked down at the screen to see a health screen with a little pony stretched out like a human beaming at me; apparently I had no injuries or issues. Big shocker. The Geiger counter wasn’t clicking at all, which was a relief; I was a little afraid I’d been soaking in radiation this whole time. There was no E.F.S. though, at least not active yet.

I fiddled with the buttons, switching it around to various screens, noting with relief that apart from a few differences in terms it seemed all but identical to the Pipboys I’d used in playing Fallout 3 or New Vegas. Hopefully it would work the same way.

I kept an eye on the inventory screen as I put on the backpack, noting with amusement it showed a general carrying capacity going up. Finally as I messed around I figured out how to turn on the E.F.S.

The display leapt up in front of me at once, showing a compass in the low center of my field of vision, shifting no matter where I looked to indicate whether I was looking north or south or wherever. I didn’t see any bars, red or orange. I did see a little location tag though: “Vanhoover Wastewater.”

I messed around some more with the Pipbuck to find the mapping function, bringing up a map of city and surrounding area. I peered at it with great interest, trying to see if anything looked familiar, but it didn’t, unsurprisingly.

Vanhoover straddled a large river running criss cross east and west through its center. To the east and north lay mountains; another large line (probably the rail line) snaked through the city center to the southeast, with offshoots passing around the city and over to the west. The entire southwest of the map was all coastline, though I did note a small island just off the coast.

Beyond that the rest of the map was mostly incomprehensible without any location tags; though I did note my current location lay in the north east, probably about ten miles from the city’s edge if I understood the scale on the map right.

I spent some more time messing with the Pipbuck until I was satisfied I understood it well enough to use without having to think about it, especially S.A.T.S, which thankfully relied on a mental command. Then I swept anything left on that table into my satchel, leaving it to the Pipbuck to organize things. I made sure to get my phone as well, turning it off to save battery. I had no way of knowing when or even if I could recharge it, so I didn’t want to use it at all unless I had no other choice. I also picked out the book on gun use and skimmed it briefly, so I could at least understand how to aim and turn the safety on and off.

I turned my attention to the rest of the office, searching through desks and anything else that looked suspicious. I found very little of actual use, apart from a bottle of whiskey and a couple packs of cigarettes in one drawer, which I took. I didn’t drink or smoke but I could barter it for useful things from people who did.

I decided to try the terminal. I hadn’t the first clue how to hack it, but it turned out I could connect my Pipbuck to it, so maybe that could help me. I withdrew the little dongle from the Pipbuck casing and plugged it into the slot next to the terminal’s power button.

Unfortunately that seemed to do jack all. The terminal continued to sit there on a simple password prompt. I had to type something to get it to the password findy screen thing but I just didn’t know what. In frustration I smacked the terminal. The force dislodged a piece of paper I hadn’t noticed that was taped to it; on it was written a single word: “Hope.”

I typed that in and sure enough it worked, giving me access. The terminal was filled with logs: shift reports, chemical usage, supply tallies, nothing interesting until near the very end of the message list:

Finally locked the place up today. Can’t believe the M.A.S. of all things is shutting us down. Can’t that stupid unicorn understand we need this wastewater plant? Vanhoover only has two; you can’t run the whole population on one plant. We’ll be swimming in shit faster than you can say “oh crap!” But no, apparently we’re “out of date.” We need remodeling or some shit like that. This place has been running for over fifty years just fine on this equipment. We don’t need some brand-spanking new line of filtering talismans and other shiny toys the M.A.S. likes to wave around like it’s their dick. They even have me sealing the place up like a tomb. It’s like they don’t even expect to get started on remodeling before the zebras kill us all. And that scares the fuck outta me.

I’m gonna hand in my resignation. Fuck this; I don’t want to put up with it. I’ve got a ticket for Stable 44 and I’m aimin’ to use it. My wife’s got one too, so at least she’ll be safe. Now just to get one for our kid.

“Huh,” I said. “No wonder this place is abandoned.” That’d explain the lack of food too. And the lack of bodies. Wonder what she meant by “locking it up like a tomb” though. Maybe there was some kind of high tech lock on the front doors; it’d explain why this place was untouched.

The terminal had confirmed one other thing for me. Between its dates and the Pipbuck’s date I determined I was about two hundred years after the War, or in other words right around the time the Fallout Equestria story was supposed to take place. Maybe Littlepip was out there right now, emerging from Stable 2. Or not. I had no way of knowing either way.

I took a peek at the final message, only to feel a frisson of fear trickle down my spine. It was just a single sentence.

They’re coming for you, Cassie. Run.

“Oh no,” I said. I leapt up from the terminal, my eyes glued to my E.F.S. I didn’t see any bars though, but I decided I didn’t want to take the chance. I fled the office, heading back to the barracks to look through the first aid kits real quick, finding a weird bottle shaped like a turkey baster full of purple goop in one and a single syringe labeled “Med-X” in the other. I shoved those in my satchel and made for the front doors.

Only to suddenly see several bars pop up, directly in front of me. Red bars.

Shit.

Not seeing any other option, I headed for my only other way out, trying to stay quiet as I made my way quickly to the stairs leading down to the power room. I was hoping and praying there was some other way out down there, a tunnel or something. Buildings like this always have tunnels in Fallout, right?

Well, no. I emerged downstairs into a fairly massive room filled with generators lining the center in neat rows and a series of massive water pumps along the walls. I followed it all the way to the end, just to find a dead end wall with a mop bucket with matching handle laying on its side.

I scanned desperately for a door I’d missed, a hatch in the floor, anything even as I watched the red bars making their way through the corridor above towards the stairs. Demented laughter rang and echoed alongside the clinking of metal chains. “Where are you, you big bitch?” called a growling male voice. “We know you’re heeeere!”

“Yeah!” agreed a nasty sounding mare with another repeat of that sinister laugh. “Stop hidin’ so we can slaughter your ass!”

The voices rang clear as the party of ponies made their way downstairs. I counted six red bars, six people ready to kill me. I leapt for cover, hiding behind the nearest generator before they could spot me. Once crouched, I withdrew my pistol and poked my head out just enough to see them approaching. I withdrew my head and decided to call out, “Wait! I don’t want to fight you!”

I heard a few of them snicker at that, causing a chill to run down my spine. “Oh that’s fine!” answered the stallion I’d heard before. “Just come on out and we’ll make it nice and quick.”

Like a friggin idiot I said, “Really?” before I could think about it. As if I wanted them to kill me!

They burst into guffaws, and I heard one fall over on the floor. “No, not really!” answered the stallion with a sickeningly cruel twist to his words. “All we need’s your head! I’m gonna take my time with you. I ain’t ever killed a Two-Leg before. Lookin’ real forward to carvin’ you up!”

That chill transformed into a whole body freeze, the only warmth being a trickle down my leg. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. They didn’t just want to kill me. They wanted to torture me and then kill me. Images flashed through my head, of shotguns blowing off my legs, knives carving up my wings, a rusty saw shearing its way through my neck...

“Blade,” said another male voice, this one whiny and slow. “Are we sure we want to do this? Two-Legs are huge and really dangerous! This isn’t worth the caps!”

“Damn it Pumice, for the last fuckin’ time shut your mouth,” answered Blade. “We’re doin’ it, okay?”

The first mare giggled, joined by a second who said with a deep voice like a rusty chainsaw, “Yeah Pummy, stop being such a pussy or I’ll kill you myself.”

I heard a deep smack of something against flesh and the impact of something falling to the floor. “Whoops!” laughed the first mare.

“Alright, enough fuckin’ around,” Blade said. “Spread out and find that Two-Leg. She’s here somewhere.”

“No please no please no please no,” I repeated over and over like a mantra as I crouched there, still frozen. I needed to act, I needed to do something! Cassie, I yelled at myself in my thoughts, you need to move! Fight back! Do something!

But I couldn’t. I was too scared. I wasn’t strong enough for this. I just wanted to be somewhere, anywhere other than right here, with six people ready to shoot my face off.

I’d stopped paying attention to my E.F.S. Frantically I looked back at it, trying to guess where they were, in case my body felt like actually moving. Then I saw it. A sawed-off twenty-gauge shotgun coated in a maroon-colored aura floated into view, followed by its owner, a scarred unicorn mare with a filthy rust colored coat, wearing random bits of leather studded with spikes. “Ah hah!” she squealed in delight when she spotted me, baring rotted lumps of teeth in a feral grin. “Found you!”

A spark of self-preservation helped me raise my pistol up to point at her face, not that I had to raise it all that far. Ponies were freakin’ short. She chortled. “Oh please, look at you! You’re so scared you’re pissing yourself! Put the gun down.”

“No,” I answered in a stutter. “P-please, go a-away. I d-don’t want to f-fight you.”

She let out a little chuckle of glee. “Sucks to be you then! Hold still!”

Time slowed to a crawl. Fire first, Cassie! I saw the twin barrels of the shotgun move towards me, slowly taking aim. God damn it, do something! Shoot her! I saw the trigger twitch as she readied to fire. Do it or you’re dead! DO IT!

I closed my eyes and fired three times.

The recoil almost knocked the pistol clear out of my hands. I flinched at the loud noise, and the even louder boom of the shotgun firing. Something sprayed onto my face as something else clunked off the generator.

I opened my eyes. The mare had collapsed in a heap, twitching in death throes as blood and gore seeped from the bullet wounds in her throat and chest. The spray had been her blood; it had spread all over me. The thunk were little bits of concrete where the buckshot had penetrated the floor.

I should’ve been panicking. I should’ve been scared out of my mind. I should’ve been stunned in horror at the violence I’d just caused. I should’ve been puking at the sight, at the wet, warm sensation of the blood trickling down my cheek. But I did none of those things.

A calm descended over me. There were five left. Kill or be killed. I didn’t have time for feelings.

I stood, my pistol at the ready. I looked down the room towards the stairs, spotting several of the remaining ponies galloping my way. One of them who I presumed was Blade judging from the lengthy makeshift sword floating in his magic grip, screamed, “There she is! Kill her!”

I took aim at the closest one, an earth pony stallion with an automatic pistol. As I dropped into S.A.T.S. he fired several shots my way. All but one flew past, the remaining punching me in the chest as it impacted my armored vest. I set up four shots to the head, pulping his face with my precisely aimed bullets. He collapsed in the middle of his run, skidding along his face till his body stopped at my feet. Two down.

I spotted another mare aiming a pump-action shotgun at me. I ducked behind another generator as she fired, the buckshot pinging off the metal. She fired two more shots, then I heard an odd click and she started cursing up a storm. I popped up over the generator, trying to take aim with S.A.T.S. only to see the spell needed recharging. I fired anyway, but two of my shots went wide and the third blew through her hair as she ducked out of sight.

As I fumbled for another magazine, a stallion came around the corner, barreling at me with a rusty fire axe. He swung wildly at my stomach as I tried to block, catching the blade of the axe on my Pipbuck. I shoved it away and rolled on the floor till I could leap to my feet, but he came at me again, knocking me over and raising his axe to strike. In desperation I slapped him in the jaw with my pistol, knocking him for a loop. The pistol flew out of my hand, to land somewhere out of sight.

As he brought the axe around again I reached out and grabbed the handle, twisting as hard as I could, hearing a nasty crack as I broke a few of his teeth. As it slipped from his mouth he made to grab for it, but I thrust my leg up in a kick straight to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. I rolled to my feet successfully this time and brought the axe down into his neck. Three down.

As I withdrew the axe another shot from Miss Pump-Action blew past my face, just barely missing me. I dropped low, racing as fast as I could in the awkward position around the generators, trying to get to her flank while she fired away. When I heard the gun click as it jammed on her again I broke cover and raced straight for her, kicking the shotgun out of her grasp and landing another kick to her face. She recovered quickly though, whirling around to land a two-hoof buck square into my stomach. I doubled over as she followed up with a punch to the face, breaking my nose. Blood streamed from my nostrils as I tried to recover, swinging wildly with the axe. I ended up dropping it instead as she leapt onto me, pummeling my face. Screeching in pain I wrapped an arm around her neck and rolled over, pinning her to the floor. I grabbed her head and smashed it hard against the floor till I heard a satisfying crack and she laid still. Four dead.

“That was my sister you fucking bitch!” Blade howled as his sword sliced into my left leg. I howled, flaring my wings, managing to beat him away with them long enough to get to my feet, if shakily. I grabbed the fallen axe and brought it up just in time to stop a death blow to my chest. He struck at me furiously with far more skill than Axe Pony had shown, and it was all I could do to stave off his blows, desperately blocking even as he backed me up against the nearest generator. “You’re dead, asshole!” he bellowed as he finally managed to knock the axe from my grip with a slice across my knuckles.

My wings flew open again and this time I tried flapping them in a last ditch effort to fly. I rose into the air above him as the force of his strike sent the sword plunging directly into the generator, unleashing a torrent of sparks. The lights flickered as I, unable to control my flight at all, flipped over and crashed to the floor. I shook my head to clear the stars and pulled out my knife. Blade was so busy trying to wrench his sword from the ruined generator that he didn’t react in time to stop me from tackling him. I drove the knife messily into his back as he screamed, “Damn it Pumice, help me!” I pulled it out and plunged it into his throat for good measure. He choked on his own blood. Five down.

I scrambled to my feet, stumbling on the injured leg, and turned my attention to the final pony across the room. Said pony was fallen over on his ass at the foot of the stairs. The little stallion wasn’t as filthy as the others, nor was he dressed up in spikes. He wore simple brown leather barding over his ash coat, with a mane of white cascading around his shoulders. He had a sawed-off shotgun floating beside him in the grip of a cornflower blue aura. It shook and shuddered in his grip as he tried to aim it at me. He fired, but the shot went way wide. I came within striking distance as he struggled to load new shells. I calmly kicked the shotgun away, pushed him over, and readied the knife to strike.

“Wait, please! I surrender! Please don’t kill me!” he screamed as he threw his hooves up in a pitiful attempt to block my blow.

I halted in mid-strike. The words cut through the emotionless calm I’d been wrapped in. “W-what?” I stuttered.

“Please, I don’t want to die!” the stallion stammered as he cringed away from me, a puddle of piss spreading out from under him. “I didn’t want to come; it was Blade’s idea! He made me!”

I lowered the knife. It shook in my grasp as I stared down at him. “Okay,” I said. “I won’t kill you.”

He sighed in relief, though tears continued to pour down his cheek. “Oh thank you thank you!”

“Who are you anyway?” I asked as I glared down at him, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. “Why’d you guys try to kill me?”

“My name is Pumice,” he said. He withdrew a piece of paper from his saddlebags, floating it up to me in his shaky magic. “I-it was a contract from the Dawn. They told Blade you’d gone rogue, offered five thousand caps for your head.”

“The Dawn?” I said as I took the paper. I tried to read it, but the words blurred in front of me. I was coming off my battle high or whatever it had been, losing focus. “Who… who are the Dawn?”

His mouth twisted into a frown as he stared up at me. “You mean, you don’t know?”

“No I don’t fucking know!” I snapped, raising the knife again without thinking. I was losing it. I needed to sit down, to fall down, to cry, to do something, anything other than deal with this little shit. “I wouldn’t ask if I did you stupid fuck!”

He screamed, drawing his hooves around himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

I clenched my teeth, squeezing the knife handle in my hand. ”Look, Pumice, right?” He nodded. “Pick up your gun and get out of here.”

“W-what?” he answered. “Y-you’re letting me go?”

“Yes, now go!” I brought the knife forward. “Go, damn it!”

He let out a yelp and grabbed the shotgun in his magic as he stumbled to his feet. “Okay, okay, I’m going!” he shouted as he made his way up the stairs. I watched him go till he left my sight, then I watched his bar on my E.F.S. till it vanished.

The instant it was gone I collapsed, falling over in a heap. The knife dropped out of my hands, clattering to the floor. Any remaining sense of calm I’d had evaporated. The pain of my injuries, the blood on my clothes, the scent of gore and death that I had been ignoring all flooded in. I bent over and vomited, spilling all the cereal into a puddle at my feet. Even after I’d thrown up everything in my stomach I kept heaving, dry heaves that did little but hurt my throat.

“Jesus Christ,” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “What’ve I done?”

I’d never hurt anyone on purpose before, not physically at least. It just wasn’t in my nature. Even if I had a short temper, even if I could be an angry little shithead at times, I couldn’t hurt another person. But I just had. Five people--ponies yes but still people--dead at my hands. By gun and axe, by hands and knife I’d taken the light of their souls from their eyes. More than that, I’d been prepared to gut a sixth one as he cowered in at my feet. Disarmed, shaking in fear, and still I was ready to stab him if he even looked at me funny.

“They were trying to kill me,” I tried to remind myself. “I had to. I had to do it.”

The reality of my situation hit me again, the sheer fucked-up nature of it all. This was reality. Reality where I had just taken the life of five people, and would probably have to take the lives of a lot more if I wanted to get home. There was no way around it.

“I spared one,” I told myself. “That matters, right?”

Did it? I couldn’t know. Maybe my kindness would be rewarded. Maybe it’d bite me in the ass. But it was the right thing to do.

Kill or be killed doesn’t mean you always have to kill. I made a promise to myself then, to remember that. Even if I had to do this again, kill more people to survive, I wouldn’t kill if I didn’t have to. Not a single soul would die by my hands unless there was no other choice.

Or else I’d lose my own.

Footnote: Level Up
New Perk: Super Educated:
Thanks to your extensive knowledge of My Little Pony and Fallout Equestria, you gain three skill points per level instead of two, and you gain extra skill points when reading books or magazines.
Quest Perk Added: Two-Leg:
The weapons of the Wasteland were not made for hands. You have ninety percent less accuracy and fire rate when using any firearm or magical energy weapon not explicitly modified for your use. This does not include the majority of melee weapons, but does include specialty ones such as power hooves.

Author's Note

Hello, all of you who've read this far! Thank you so much for reading. So this is my new story, and yes, it's a self-insert. I'm going to go into the details for why here in this blog post, but don't worry: my story self won't be running into Littlepip or Blackjack or anyone else; this is its own separate adventure. I'm intending to update this story once a week, every Sunday at about 0600 GMT -8. I have a lot of free time to write and I'm eager to use it, so enjoy the ride! And thanks again. :twilightsmile:

Chapter 2

Survival. A word whose meaning is simply the act of continuing to exist and live. And yet I’d never truly understood it before. To me it was a word on a page, important only in books or the stories of other people. I never had to worry about it. I always had enough food and shelter. I had free access to medical care and dental care as a child. I was educated in advanced placement programs. I was protected from harm. In short, I was a product of civilization. I developed the beliefs I did about non-violence and coexistence because I had the opportunity. I became a peaceful, timid person because life had never forced me to be otherwise, because even in my worst moments, I had a way out.

True survival isn’t like that. Strip away the veneer of civilization, the trappings of easy food and water, of safety, and even the most peaceful of people can become cold blooded killers. It can take someone who spends all her time reading and thinking and turn her into a warrior. It gives her a simple choice: fight or die. Kill or be killed. Feelings are a luxury, hesitation is lethal.

I was only just beginning to understand that. Life was a harsh teacher, survival the harshest of all. And there would be many more lessons in the days to come. Lessons I had to learn, if I wanted to survive.

~*~

I struggled to my feet, gripping the nearby metal bannister of the stairs as support. My left leg wobbled weakly under my weight, growing weaker by the second as the sword wound continued to bleed. My Pipbuck, which I had been paying little attention to, beeped insistently, the screen flashing with medical warnings. I’d taken more damage in the battle than I’d realized, and the act of standing left me light-headed. I almost slipped in the pool of vomit and blood I’d left around me as I limped towards the nearest wall, where I could see a small janitor’s corner with sinks and hoses. I leaned against the wall as I activated the sink, turning the hose on my injuries to wash away the blood. The water was freezing cold, stinging me like a cloud of biting insects, especially fierce on the leg wound.

The wound continued to bleed even after I’d washed it clean. “Damn it,” I muttered, grimacing as I brought up my Pipbuck to sort through my bag. I managed to find the magical bandages, pulling out the box and withdrawing one. I had to flop onto the floor again to apply it, taking the opportunity to examine the wound closely before doing so. While I was no doctor, I’d trained in first aid several times over my life, and had accumulated enough bits of medical knowledge here and there to know that this cut was deep indeed, and even with regular treatment would take weeks to heal. Fortunately I had magic on my side. The bandage was larger than I’d expected, more like a roll of gauze than the little Band-Aid I’d been picturing. I wrapped it around the wound and sealed it tight. The magic immediately went to work to stop the bleeding.

I paged through my inventory to find the healing potion, which was indeed the weird turkey baster bottle thing I’d found earlier. I examined it carefully, noting that the squeeze bulb was formed of two parts, one an easy to bite off stopper and the other tougher and more rigid, probably to help earth ponies and pegasi hold it in their mouths as they drank it. Clever design but it was damned awkward to use with hands. I tried repeatedly to break the stopper without biting it but it just couldn’t be done. Finally I gave it, biting it off, scowling at the harsh taste of the rubber, and bent my neck back to drink. Though the goop was thick in appearance it flowed just like water, with a taste like honey mixed with a hint of apples. It didn’t take long to swallow, and even as it worked its way down I could feel the magic going to work, a full body tingle that tickled a little.

With my injuries dealt with I took the time to at least try to wash the blood out of my clothes. I discovered a nasty welt on my chest under where my armor had stopped a bullet. It reminded me a lot of similar welts I’d taken the one time I’d played paintball. Even as I examined it though it faded before my eyes. “Weird,” I muttered.

Unfortunately, while I could get my clothes at least clean in a sense, it was already too late to prevent the blood from staining. And worse I already had several holes. I hoped I could find some kind of sewing kit somewhere so I could fix them. I didn’t want to lose the only clothes I’d found so far that I could actually wear.

“Now what?” I asked myself as I stood. My eyes drifted across the room to the closest fallen corpse, that of the mare with the pump-action shotgun. The sight made my stomach churn. Right. Looting time. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Funny how that idea was always so much easier in video games. Here in reality it felt like I was just stealing. From the dead. That I’d killed...

I took in a deep breath, let it out, and forced myself to move. As I grew close I saw the pool of blood around her head where I’d shattered her skull against the ground. I tried not to look at that as I rummaged through the bag she had strapped to one side, taking everything she had and dumping it into my backpack; I could count it later. I retrieved her shotgun as well. The damned thing was in such poor condition that I’d actually left a small dent in the barrel where I’d kicked it, but I shoved it in my pack anyway, marveling at how it could hold the long weapon. My bag must’ve been enchanted for more space or something.

I went around and scavenged the other corpses, collecting some scattered parts of leather and metal from their armor and their belongings (in one case shoved into their tail, which was utterly filthy.) I also made sure to retrieve my fallen pistol and knife, as well as my helmet. I’d lost it during the battle at some point and hadn’t even noticed. I made sure to use the chin strap this time.

In all I’d found a meager collection of thirty bottlecaps, a small assortment of ammo, none of which fit my pistol, and several useless guns, along with a scattering of chems. The only usable weapon was the fire axe, as the sword, stuck in the ruined generator, was a lost cause. At least the axe had better reach than my knife, even if it was in poor condition. I’d found a holster on Blade’s body for his sword, and with a little bit of creative tying to my pants and vest it served as a makeshift belt for the axe.

I’d also found a screwdriver and a few bobby pins, the requisite Wasteland lockpicking kit, which I tucked away in a vest pocket. Combined with the book on lockpicking it might even let me get into a few things before I inevitably broke all my pins.

With all my looting complete, I headed for the stairs. I hesitated at the first step. I sighed, and turned to face the room again, looking pensively at the bodies I’d left behind. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding a hand to my heart. “I’m sorry I killed you. I didn’t want to! I really didn’t. But, well, you didn’t exactly give me a choice.” I held up my other hand, giving a small wave. A few tears dripped down my cheek. “Please, forgive me. Rest in peace.”

I barreled up the stairs, taking them two at a time just so I could get away faster. Faster, so I didn’t break down again. So I didn’t lose myself in sorrow and shame.

It was only at the top that I finally remembered the contract paper Pumice had given me. I retrieved it from my pack, where I’d crumpled it up earlier. I unfolded it, smoothed it out best I could, and read:

Official Angel’s Rest Bounty Contract

Name: Open Wings

Race: Two-Leg Pegasus

Description: Approximately six feet tall, lilac coat, pink and white mane, with a cutie mark of a bullet flanked by two spread wings.

Desired Status: Dead

Special Instructions: Return with the head as proof to Boundless Sky, Two-Leg Pegasus of the Dawn in Angel’s Rest.

Risk Factor: Moderate

Reward: 5,000 bottlecaps

My lips curled in an expression that was half amusement, half scorn. “Well it’s straight to the point I guess,” I said. “Not exactly the most accurate thing though. My name isn’t Open Wings, and they completely forgot the sun part of my cutie mark.” I snorted that horsey snort and stuffed it back into my pack.

At least I had a name for what I was now: Two-Leg. I remembered that Blade and the others had been calling me that just before we fought. It was short and simple, I supposed, easy to remember. Judging by this Boundless Sky, I wasn’t the only one either, which left me feeling simultaneously relieved and scared. On the one hand, having others like me around meant I’d stand out a little bit less, but on the other hand this one really wanted me dead for… some reason. “What was it Pumice said? I’d gone rogue? Rogue how?” I threw up my hands in disbelief. “Last thing I remember before waking up here was falling asleep in my bedroom!”

I shook my head and sighed. I wasn’t going to get any answers standing around here. Besides, if the reward was anything to go by, Blade’s little group probably weren’t the only ones after my head. Staying here in the wastewater plant would be akin to suicide, and I’d already wasted way too much time as it was. So after taking a brief trip to the barracks bathroom to wash my hands (and wishing I could take a steaming hot shower) I made for the commissary doors.

Blade’s group had left them flung open, and I emerged into a much more massive room, laid out like a factory floor. I spotted puddles of water here and there, as shafts of wan light poured through small holes in the ceiling. Massive hulks of machinery, rusted and useless, loomed around me, casting deep shadows. Wrecks of automated defenses hung from the ceiling here and there, all long dead. On the far wall was a large set of thick, steel-plated double doors, curled in on themselves and covered with scorch marks. Bits of metal were scattered everywhere around them, suggesting they’d been blown open, and recently at that.

I wondered to myself who might’ve been responsible as I made my way towards them. It couldn’t have been Blade’s group. The sort of explosives needed to blow this kind of door open were well beyond the meager weapons they’d carried. Maybe it was done by whatever had brought me to Equestria?

I emerged from the treatment plant into daylight. Pale daylight, with grey skies completely covered by clouds, but daylight all the same. The sight had my wings twitching. A part of me was eager to see just what they could do in that sky. But I resisted the temptation, and took in my surroundings. I was in a large industrial park, judging by the wreckage of brick and concrete buildings scattered throughout the area. The treatment plant was by far the most intact, like the last person standing in a free-for-all brawl. The ground all around was cracked pavement, broken by twisted little brown weeds. A chain link fence surrounded most of the building, topped by razor wire. I scanned it till I found a large hole cut through the fence, and made my way towards it, emerging onto the remnants of a road.

I scanned the area with my E.F.S., keeping a close watch out for any bars, red or orange. Nothing showed though. “Okay, what was it that note said? Go east?” It wasn’t like I had any other ideas, so I turned till my compass showed more or less due east along the road, and started walking.

As I walked, I kept one eye on my surroundings and the rest of my attention on my thoughts. I often lose myself in my head and this walk was no different. I needed to figure out a plan, a set of goals. Overall goal was to get home, of course, but there were a lot of steps before I could achieve that. “Right, so, what do I need? I need supplies. I’ve only got so much food and water, and this dinky gun isn’t going to go very far. I need information. I don’t know anything about Vanhoover because it never showed up in any of the stories I read, and I really want to know why this Dawn group wants to kill me. And I need friends.”

I chuckled to myself as I strode past a bombed out factory. A few red bars had appeared on my E.F.S., but they were just a few bloatsprites, the result of parasprites being mutated by taint. They were keeping their distance, so I left them alone. “Friends would be nice. I’d at least have someone else to talk to.” Or rather, somepony, but I refused to say that aloud. I have standards, damn it. “So I need to find a town. Hopefully one that won’t shoot me on sight.” I blew out a noisy sigh, my ears flattening against my head. (I still wasn’t used to that.) “God I wish I was home already.”

The buildings around me were slowly shifting from industrial to commercial. I spotted a small row of ruined shops in a little strip mall, with the closest being what I at first thought was a gas station. It was a small square building that squatted out in a concrete lot, with a pair of what looked like gas pumps, spaced out enough that two large cars--or rather, carriages--could fit side by side. The building itself was in better shape than others around it, its walls only cracked in places, rather than full of holes. A dirty, half-collapsed sign hanging overhead proudly proclaimed, “Eastside Charging Station #13: powered by Hippocampus Energy!”

I stopped walking, considering for a moment whether or not to check it out. Then my stomach let out a large rumble, making the decision for me. Between the fight, the time I spent searching the wastewater plant, and my injuries, I was hungry. I would’ve thought the thought of food would just turn my stomach, but nope. Hunger called to me. “Guess it’s time for a break,” I said.

I stepped gingerly around the scattered bits of gravel and broken glass surrounding the station’s entrance, and pushed open the door hanging halfway off its hinges. The inside was dark, lit only by a few hanging lamps that flickered on and off. The front was divided between a cashier’s counter and several sets of shelves, almost all of which were completely empty. I spotted a few things--a can of Cram here, a box of cereal there--all of which I shoved into my backpack without thinking too much about it. Behind the cashier’s desk, besides the dust and crumbled pieces of ceiling littering the floor I discovered a small safe, as well as several doors to a back storage area, a bathroom, and an office.

My stomach growled at me, reminding me that I should eat before I loot. I entered the office, which was sparse, just a small room barely larger than a broom closet, with a desk complete with terminal, a chair, and a small shelf full of decaying and/or burnt books and files. I brushed off the chair and flopped into it, grateful to be off my feet. I took off my backpack and set it on the desk, opening it up and using my Pipbuck to bring out my rations. It was time to see if Equestrian Army MREs were any good.

The MRE I picked out was basically a foil package containing several smaller pouches, each labeled as an entree or side dish or what have you, just like the MREs I’d gotten from the Air Force when I was in ROTC in high school. They were even self-heating, probably because of magic because they didn’t need any water or separate heater. The entree I’d chosen proclaimed it was a “fried broccoli omelette” which sounded weird, but I was willing to try it. I didn’t have any eating utensils, so I had to prop the package open and eat it by hand. It tasted… strange, but not terrible. Mostly bland actually. It needed some salt. As I ate it I wondered how the ponies ate from these pouches. Did they have some kind of feed bag they could put them in, or--

The cold touch of a gun barrel kissed my temple. “Don’t move,” growled a deep baritone voice, course like an old singer had lost their magic throat to years of cigarette smoke.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I cursed myself for not paying attention to my E.F.S. I should’ve known better than to get lost in my own head. I looked up from my food to see a cloak-wearing unicorn stallion standing before me, his brownish coat patchy and dry, with skin showing. Dead, burnt looking skin that looked like it was sloughing off in places. His mane was a patchy mess, with lots of little blonde strands, most of which were frayed and disintegrating. His eyes held a faint cherry red glow as he glared at me, raising a boxy pistol-like device that was probably a magical laser pistol to point right at my head. Not just a unicorn, but a ghoul, then. I looked to my side to see my own pistol pressed against my head, and even as I looked I could feel the fire axe press its blade up into my back, right at the base of my wings. He even had my knife out of its vest pocket, floating up to my throat.

Well I was well and truly fucked. “Uh, hi there?” I said, dropping the pouch of food and raising my hands.

I heard the pistol slide cock as the knife point dug into my throat, making me wince. “I said not to move, fool!” the ghoul said. He bared his teeth, or rather the sharp, jagged remains of his teeth. “Or do you wish to die?”

“Sorry,” I squeaked. I kept my hands where they were, trying not to move a muscle. “Are you going to kill me?”

He raised the fleshy remains of one eyebrow. “That depends on you, Two-Leg. Answer my questions to my satisfaction, and I will let you leave here alive.”

Uh-oh. That could be a problem, if this guy thought I was with the Dawn. “Uh, right, sure, can do,” I said with a nervous giggle. “Whatcha want to know?”

His eyes narrowed. “Firstly, where is the rest of your unit? You Two-Legs never travel without an escort.”

My face scrunched up in confusion. “Unit? What unit?”

Before I could blink he slapped me across the face with a forehoof, filling my vision with stars. “Wrong answer.” Yeah, no shit asshole. “I will ask again. Where is your unit?”

“Ow,” I groaned. I wanted badly to rub my cheek where he’d struck it, but I didn’t dare move. “Look, I dunno who you think I am, but I don’t have a unit, oka--”

Slap! He hit the other side of my face this time. The knife dug into my throat some more, this time eliciting a few drops of blood. “You are testing my patience, Two-Leg. I will ask one more time. Where. Is. Your. Unit?”

I sneered, growling, “I don’t have one! I’m by myself, okay?! Jesus.”

He raised his forehoof as if to strike for a third time, then let it drop. “I see.” He stepped further inside the office and shut the door, keeping his eyes firmly locked on me. “That is unfortunate for you. We will have plenty of privacy, then.”

Oh I did not like the sound of that. The few warning bells in my head that weren’t already ringing up a storm went off, clamoring for attention. “Privacy? For what?” I asked without thinking.

His glare softened, the slightest of grins tugging at his rotten lips. “Information about the Dawn’s leadership, of course. I need it. You have it. You will give it to me, or die. Understand?”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I said, I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t know anything about the Dawn, okay?”

“Oh I think you do know,” he replied. The knife floated away from my throat to press against my cheek, the blade laid ready to rend it open. “You just need a little… persuasion.”

“Stop!” I screamed. “I don’t know anything! I swear, okay?! I just woke up a couple of hours ago in a fucking wastewater plant for Christ’s sake!”

Once again his forehoof smashed into my face, this time square into my nose. It shattered under the force of his blow, blood running freely. “Your resistance is pointless, Two-Leg. You have the information I need. You must, because you are a Two-Leg, and Two-Legs are the Dawn’s children.”

“Stop hitting me, god damn it!” I roared. I was this close to saying “fuck it” and start attacking, no matter how many guns he had pointed at me. “Please, listen to me. My name is Cassandra, and I’m not a Two-Leg or whatever the fuck I’m a human being and I just woke up as this a couple hours ago and have already had like six ponies try to kill me and now you show up and I just want to go home!”

He let out a hoarse laugh that might have once been charming before his ghoulification. “Truly, this is the best lie you can offer? Your ridiculous stories only bring you more pain.” He readied to strike again.

“I can prove it!” I cried just before his forehoof slammed into me for a fourth time. “I can prove it, I promise.”

He halted in mid-strike, lowering his hoof to the floor. “Oh? Can you now?” He let out another little chuckle. “Very well. But if this is a trick…”

I shook my head rapidly. “It’s not a trick.” My hands dropped towards my backpack, only to feel the axe press further into my back. Right. No moving. “You’re with the Steel Rangers, right?” I asked. The Steel Rangers were a set of elite fighters that, before the bombs fell, served the Ministry of Wartime Technology using powered armor. Like the Brotherhood of Steel, their equivalent in the Fallout games, they were technology hoarders, and one of only two factions in the Equestrian Wasteland likely to be using magical energy weapons such as his laser pistol. The other was the Enclave, but since they were all pegasi I figured I could rule that out.

He stared at me for several long moments, his eyes gone completely cold, filling me with fright. Just as I was afraid he’d shoot me and be done with it, he answered, “...I was. What of it?”

“In my backpack, there’s a device. Something you’ve probably never seen before.” I pointedly looked at the backpack sitting on the desk. “It’s a small thin rectangular prism, in a purple and pink case. One side looks like glass.”

Looking somewhat intrigued, his magic poked into my backpack, seeking out my phone. Soon enough he brought it out. “Is this it?”

“Yes,” I said, fighting the urge to nod. “Right now it’s off. There’s a small pink button on one side, above a slightly larger button. Press and hold the small button for several seconds; that’ll turn it on.”

He frowned at me. “If this is some attempt to call for help, you will die long before they arrive.”

“I know that,” I said. “I promise you this isn’t a trick. Please, just switch it on.”

He sighed, and did so. The screen lit up immediately with the manufacturer's logo, the animated gif spinning in full color as the phone slowly booted up. The instant he saw the color his eyes bulged like saucers. “What is this?” he demanded, his voice trembling slightly.

A fragile little flame of relief ignited within me. “It’s called a smartphone. It’s something very common where I’m from. It has a lot of functions, like a miniature computer in your pocket.”

“But, so small?” he gasped, his attention fully on my phone. “And in color? Stable-Tec only ever produced a few full-color terminals. Not even their most advanced Pipbucks had color screens, and those were all far larger than this.”

I started to smile. “Exactly. That’s because it’s not from your world.” I saw the phone finish booting. “I have more proof than just the phone itself, if you’ll let me show you--”

I cut myself off when I saw his glare. The knife moved back to my throat. “Do not think me a fool, Two-Leg. You will instruct me in its use.”

What smile I had slipped away, replaced with a pained grimace. “Okay then. Do you see the screen, how it shows the time? You need to press on the screen from bottom to top to unlock it.”

He let out a snort of disbelief, but he did so. It took him several tries to get it right, but he finally opened it up to my app list. He held it up so I could see it better. “What now?”

“You see that little icon in the bottom right, that looks like a camera? Touch it. It’ll open up the phone’s camera function.”

I heard him mutter something to himself as he did as I instructed. The screen went dark for a moment, then lit up again, showing the view of the camera. His eyes bulged again, larger this time, as he moved it around. “This is unbelievable!” he said. “How is this possible?”

“It’s just technology,” I answered, my voice dripping with smug satisfaction. If he thought that was impressive… “It can hold a lot of pictures too. If you scroll--that is, press on the screen from right to left, you’ll view the pictures it already has. I have pictures of myself on there.”

He scrolled, calling up the first picture, and his jaw actually fell open so wide I was afraid it would fall off. The picture he called up was of me, standing in my kitchen, holding a birthday cake with thirty-one lit candles while smiling at the camera. As I stared at it, a rush of emotions flooded me in rapid succession: fear, sadness, depression, anger. That was me. That was what I was supposed to look like, a human being, with normal brown hair, pale skin, real feet, real hands. No wings, no weird colored coat covering me from head to toe. Just plain, simple human.

Tears fell from my eyes. I wanted to be me again, damn it. I wanted to be human again. My whole body was wrong and awful and not supposed to be like this, and seeing that picture threw it all into stark relief all over again. I want to be me again.

I want to go home.

“This is really you?” inquired the ghoul, shattering my reverie.

I nodded, and this time he didn’t immediately react with one of the weapons. “Yeah, that’s me. That’s what I should look like.”

He lowered the phone, setting it on the desk. He then stared deep into my eyes. “What are you?”

“I told you, I’m a human being, or I’m supposed to be anyway.” His eyes narrowed, and I hastily added, “We’re bipeds. Primates. We’re not like ponies. We evolved from a shared ancestor with other primates like chimpanzees and gorillas. We’re from a different world; we call it Earth.”

He bit his lip, thinking things over. “How did you get here, then?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine, buddy. I haven’t a clue.”

“Truly?”

I nodded again. “Yeah. Like I said, I woke up in the wastewater plant down the road, no idea how I got there or why I’m… this. Just a bunch of stuff waiting for me: that backpack, this Pipbuck on my arm, my gun. Then a bunch of ponies tried to kill me, I killed them instead, walked outside, sat down here to eat, then you showed up. That’s it.” I turned my eyes to his, trying to plead with them. “Please, I’m not a threat to you. I didn’t even know you were here. I don’t know what you want to know. Let me go.”

For a moment, as the weapons started to lower, it seemed like I’d make it out of there. Then they suddenly rose again. “I am impressed, Two-Leg.” He held up the phone in his magic. “This almost convinced me. But you made one fatal mistake. If you are from another world, how could you possibly know what the Steel Rangers are?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. What was I going to tell him now? Oh hey guess what your whole world is just a video game mixed with a little girl’s cartoon! Even if I could prove that--and I couldn’t because all I had on my phone was a copy of Project Horizons--it would be a huge mistake. An absolutely massive, ruin everything forever mistake. I’ve read enough science fiction to know that you don’t mess with the timeline unless you really want to screw things up. If I told this guy his whole world was fictional on mine, and if he actually believed me, what would that do to the future of the Equestrian Wasteland? Good lord, what would I do if I accidentally ran across an alicorn? Or Watcher? Anything I say at this point could drastically alter future events, and almost certainly for the worse. I couldn’t risk the future. I couldn’t risk Gardens. I had too much of a responsibility streak in me to do that, even for my own sake.

I heard him cough in impatience, drawing me back to reality. So I stared at him, right in his glowy ghoul eyes, and said, “I can’t tell you that.”

His return gaze was all cold steel. “You cannot? Or you will not?”

“Both.” I lowered my gaze to the floor, bracing myself for more pain. “Punch me all you want, but I can’t and won’t tell you. All I’ll say is what I’ve already said: I don’t know what you want to know.”

For several moments, as I sat there cringing, I heard no reply. No nothing, in fact, until the tinny sounds of my phone playing a video caught my ear. I looked up to see him holding the phone in his magic. It was playing a little video I’d had my boyfriend film on my birthday, of me with our cat. Nothing special, just talking with her, playing with her. A normal, everyday life thing, at least in a world of civilization. Not so much in post-apocalyptica.

“What is this creature?” he asked, his voice a total one-eighty in tone. Almost as if he had a trace of actual warmth to him.

“My cat,” I said, with a small smile. “Her name is Neufchatel. She’s kind of a little shit at times, but I love her anyway.”

The video stopped. His magic twitched once on the screen, then he held it up, showing another picture. “And this?”

The smiling visage of my boyfriend greeted me, the little bearded cutie making my heart ache. “That’s my boyfriend Harold. We’ve been dating for almost five years.”

“I see,” he said in a whisper. He heaved a massive sigh, and the weapons lowered. He set mine onto the desk alongside my phone, and put his laser pistol into a holster on his leg. “Please accept my apologies. It appears I was… in error.”

Oh thank God. I barely managed to restrain the impulse to do a little happy dance. “Hey it’s… it’s okay. You had no way of knowing.” Wait, was I really just going to forgive him? Just like that? Of course I was. Because I wasn’t stupid enough to hold a grudge. This guy could still turn around and kill me. Or take all my stuff, and leave me with nothing. I didn’t want to antagonize him any further.

He turned away from me, opening the door. “I will take my leave. Excuse me.”

I didn’t say a word as he started to leave. As if I wanted him to do anything else. That’s right, just go. Go and leave me alone. Alone. In the Wasteland. With no friends.

Ah hell.

“Wait!” I cried, holding out my hand as I leapt from my chair. “Don’t go, please.”

He halted, turning to look over his shoulder. “Why?”

I held up my hands to him in a pleading gesture. Damn but he was short. I really had to crane my neck to look into his eyes. “Look, I know it’s not really my business, but… you’re alone out here, right? Just like me?”

He blew out a raspy sigh, spinning around to face me directly. “You are suggesting we work together.”

I flashed him a thumbs up. “Why not? We could both use a friend, right? I mean I know I could.”

He cocked his head, his ears going flat in a gesture that was honestly a little cute, even if he was a ghoul. “Even after I attacked you, and held you hostage, you would trust me?”

I threw my hands up. “You see anyone else around?” I cringed, lowering my arms and holding one hand to my busted nose. “Okay yeah, this hurts, but whatever, I forgive you. Like I said, whatever’s going on with you isn’t my business, but you’re alone. I’m alone. We could both use help, at least till we get to the next town. You know?”

The ghoul smiled. Not a smirk, or a sneer of satisfaction, but a genuine smile. Who knew? “You are… an interesting mare, Cassandra. Very well. I will travel with you.”

“Awesome,” I grinned. I held out my hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took it and shook it. “What’s your name, by the way?”

His smile slipped away. Too bad. It actually looked good on him. “... call me Lonely Dreamer.”

“Can do, Lonely,” I said.

Footnote: Fifty percent to next level.
Companion Perk: Lonely Shadow. While Lonely Dreamer is your companion, you gain an extra twenty percent to all stealth checks.

Author's Note

Sorry for the late post; I had to deal with some stuff last night that kept me from getting to finish this till this morning. This chapter ended up shorter than I expected. We'll likely see a much longer one next week. Till then, take care, and thanks for reading!:twilightsmile: