Rusty Wheels, Tale of a Wannabe Pegasus
I dream of speed in my first conscious moments of life. Dad is sitting down, holding me in his lap, reading about the Wonderbolts and their amazing stunts and tricks, his gray horn tracing glittering figures in the air as he nuzzles into my mane. I was 4 then, the world was bright and wondrous.
“They did the Buccaneer Blaze and rescued the hostages. They were heroes! They saved the day and raced off into the sunset, waiting for another call to rescue.” He booped me gently, causing me to sneeze and coo in delight. He nuzzled and cuddled me before his pipbuck starts beeping. “Looks like I gotta go kiddo. Duty calls.” He sets me down and shrugs on his utility barding. Looking up at dad, I swore to be a hero like him and the Wonderbolts. When I was 6 he died in the reactor, to radiation and attacks from a crazy pony who had held several hostage, including my uncle Security Sweep. I still remember the day so vividly, Uncle showing up with red eyes, covered in bruises and cuts and smelling… funny.
“Gale. I… We… need to talk. Your dad he...” He sobs and rubs his eyes. “He was a hero Gale. He saved the whole vault. But he’s not coming back. He died. Too many rads. Too many internal injuries. Damnit! It should have been me. I signed up to protect the stable. He had the safe job...” He pulls me into a tight hug, hooves squeezing me tight as I sit there silently. “Your father is gone. I’m sorry Gale.”
“Gone? Gone gone? He can’t have died!” I mumble softly, shaking. He strokes my mane. I always wondered which I was taking after more in my later years of development. I remember him chuckling somberly when he’s called back to the guard station to retrieve me from a harmless bit of troublemaking.
“Just like your dad at that age… But we had the best fun doing stuff we weren’t supposed to. C’mon sport. Let’s go home and start on the homework. it’s almost your tenth birthday.” A month before I had gotten my cutiemark after I had raced through the Stable on a rickety cart I had hooked to a surplus steam talisman. It gave me enough speed to loop over a barricade and tackle the Overstallion’s daughter. Mare had I gotten my hide tanned for that! But she was stealing all the chalk and I had deemed it justice. My mark was a sheriff’s badge, except it was rolling, like a wheel. A fast one.
Speed was my special purpose I felt. Tales of the Wonderbolts were held close in my heart. I liked to imagine myself as the steadfast Soarin, as the sweet and speedy Fleethoof. I… Had a heavy crush on Captain Spitfire. I’d blush every time I saw her poster in my room. But we all have quirks right? Anyways. Due to the erm, unorthodox foalhood I had, being raised by two different professions they weren’t sure where exactly to put me. Until I got my cutiemark anyways. A lawkeeping cutiemark demands that I go into lawkeeping. Uncle Sweep was my boss. It was nice? Kinda boring. Not much happens in the stable. So I ran, to and fro all around the stable.
Years passed like this, the gray walls monotonous and boring, getting even more boring and monotonous as they slipped away. To feel more alive I’d run harder, faster, less caring of my surroundings. Soon enough it was my 20th birthday and I was running to the atrium for our celebration of survival. Not, y’know, celebrating my birthday. I’m not special enough for that. No, it was celebrating the day our Stable closed. Still is always a wonderful party. Our ration coupons are doubled for everyone and just a great time. We actually bust out the aging bottles of whiskey one of the first occupants had made those long decades ago.
I was actually quite late to the party, having extended my patrol to a few of the deeper parts of the stable to see if anypony was doing anything nefarious which was never likely, the crazy pony who killed Dad was a reactor technician who had gone mad and wanted to irradiate the whole Stable. Anyways. I was galloping through the halls and up the stairs quicker than I really should have and I guess I slammed into the Overstallion hard enough that I broke a couple of his ribs. I guess it was a huge scandal and he never liked me anyways. So he sent his goon squad into the holding cell I was being kept in after that. They broke my leg, laughed and said that’d teach me to slow down. But they never really released me. I missed the party. They sat around solemnly watching me, Ripsaw frowning in particular. Him and I were friends but he was unspeakably loyal to the orders given. No matter how he hated them.
“So Gale, I- Are you crying? Did they give you any med-x? None at all? Oh for the love of Celestia!” The Overstallion facehoofs and glares at his cronies. “I said make him pay, not torture him until we exile him from the vault! Idiot colts!” His horn glows and he levitates a syringe of Med-x over, injecting it into me. Slowly the world glosses over, becoming warmer and brighter, pain fading. “So, Gale. Galloping Gale. You’ve been an annoyance ever since you were brought on security. My daughter hates your idiot hide and you’ve assaulted me right before the commencement speech. I’m exiling you. I-I mean. Just. Look, the world is habitable again, but it’s still dangerous and tainted so it’s not a death sentence. But we can’t have a pony like you in here.”
The world seems to stop after he finishes. “Exile? Outside?” He nods and I gulp, paling. “W-will you heal my leg?” I gesture to it.
“We’ll set it and give you a cast. I refuse to waste a healing potion on you.” I nod, faintly wondering if he was honest about the surface being livable before my panic attack finally catches up and knocks me out. I’m thankful I wasn’t awake for the bone being set. I’m thankful they let me keep my security pipbuck. Not so thankful they plastered me with bright orange paint.
I woke up outside the Door, incredibly sore. A real life paper note was stapled to my flank.
‘Gale, I’m sorry they had to exile you, Me and Sweep love you and wish you success in your endeavors. I was going to give you these at the party as a birthday gift but y’know, things happened. I’ll miss you and your silly colt crush on Spitfire. From, Ripsaw.’ Love? He loved me? But. That didn’t make any sense! And give me what? I shakily stand up and blink, my uniform feeling much snugger in places it never did before as well as a few new colours being evident. I glance back, eyes widening as I see a set of orange wings sewn into the shoulders. Er, not wings, but embroidery of them. Like huge patches. My cutiemark was sewn into the flanks as well as an underscore of ‘Spitfire Securities’ in safety orange.
“T-the barding from the shop? He knew I was saving req tokens for it!” I tug at the collar of it, feeling the subtle bump of more embroidery. I quickly shuck it and look in the barding. It has a message from Ripsaw again. ‘I love you, you oblivious idiot. May this keep you safe.’ Tears drop silently as I contemplate what could have been. Sure, I had the hots for Spitfire but I definitely swung for both teams. I wish he had told me before now though. I slip the barding back on and hug myself, before struggling onto my hooves and taking the first of many steps away from the vault, through this miserable rocky cave. My EFS had put up an insistent green marker leading away, the objective being ‘Get outside.’ I walked as quick as my broken leg let me, not too terribly fast. Dripping water echoed throughout, my pipbuck lamp the only light left as I followed the marker. My tears had finally stilled as I reached the main stretch of the cavern. There was light streaming in through a dusty, slatted door, broken with bullets and stained with blood but mostly intact. I rested my horned head against it with a thunk, breathing through the pain radiating up from my leg.
Once my mind is stilled I open the door, horn glowing in the stark blackness and ominous rumbling flashes.
New Game Start
Galloping Gale
Strength:4
Perception:6
Endurance:6
Charisma:4
Intelligence:7
Agility:7+1
Luck:6
Traits: Small Frame, Good Natured
Tagged Skills: Guns, Repair, Medicine.
Author's Note
I know this has a lot of pacing problems. Which is, unpleasant. I was going to polish it up more and maybe get started on the second chapter before publishing this but I very recently lost my job and figured the best way to hawk my (admittedly mediocre) writing and my patreon was by linking it publicly. https://www.patreon.com/WindyWords
So there ya go! Honestly you won't be getting much, but you won't be getting anything bad either, so it's a wash either way? Excepting the money at any rate. I'll also do smut, but I have not done so before so if you want that , expect awkwardly written smut.
Rusty Wheels, Tale of a Wannabe Pegasus
Rusty Wheels Chapter 2
I hobble to the door, mind racing at the possibilities outside, broken foreleg slung against my barded chest, gulping and awkwardly rearing up to press on the splintery wooden door. It did not budge. I blink in surprise and press harder, trying to force it open, thinking it had gotten jammed, stars burst in my vision as my hoof busts through the sundered wood, falling against the door and slamming my broken hoof into it as well. Biting down a scream, I retract my hoof. Tears well up in my eyes as I re-examined my approach and sit down to nose my piplight on. I groan in exasperation as I realize it's a pull door. Feeling rather chagrined I bite the handle and pull it open. Finally starting my glorious adventure into this brave new world.
It’s strangely dark outside, and eerily quiet compared to the stable, no lights shining or buzzing. I sit still for a moment to switch my light off, letting my eyes adjust to the dark and hobbling along, wishing dearly they had given me some kind of weapon, keeping a wary eye on my EFS. My eyes widen as they finally adjust to see the blasted landscape and dead, skeletal trees clawing at the clouded night.
“Oh uncle… I wish you could see this.” I mutter as I limp along a dusty road, foreleg pulling tight as I leap a short barrier onto the road, walking past an abandoned rusty cart. I pause for a moment and angle my head into the back, looking for anything I might be able to use, seeing a dusty dented remnant of a long emptied fire extinguisher mounted to it. Horn lighting, quickly looking through the debris inside, sifting desperately uncovering a severely dented box marked with butterflies, and the remains of a tire iron, the end of it rusted into an unusable hunk of metal, though I slip that into the baton loop of my barding, knowing it was better than nothing if it came to it, levitating the box over and opening it, finding shattered bottles and a few syringes of Med-X being the only worthwhile items, my foreleg throbbing and reminding me of the injury, I uncap one and inject it, feeling that cool euphoria fog over the painful ache of my broken leg, ears flicking as I can finally focus.
“I suppose I need some kind of goal right? Find a town, or better yet a doctor. And do what exactly? Just live?” I grumble as I start trotting down the road again, trying to find some silver lining, the spare syringes tucking safely into a pocket, horn dimming. “Maybe I’ll find new friends out here, maybe even a pretty pegasus” I chuckle, a soft grin flashing on my face for a second, starting to feel good as that Med-X covers the pain up with such a delectable fog.
My ears perk as I hear a loud rumbling, the sky flashing along the horizon, lifting my head to the sky as the first hot drops of rain begin to splash down. My ears flattening as I hobble faster, trying to find shelter from the rain. More rumbling booms and flashes strobe across the sky, wind picking up, dead trees creaking. The sky rips open, lighting the way in brief flashes, along the horizon I briefly see a wall, spikes and lighting making sure that silhouette is rather scary, my ears folding back in apprehension. I gulp and keep trotting towards it, my hobbling smoothed by the Med-X and practice.
The lighting flashes quicker, and brighter with every second of the storm, I start to gallop, praying my foreleg doesn’t catch or miss, knowing that would hurt royally even through the painkiller. Feeling that thunder reverberate through my body as I run, dodging broken trailers and potholes, mane slicked down my neck, horn sparking up as I stabilise my injured hoof, drenched in that rain, feeling it trickle past the collar of my barding, finally registering the ‘tick-tick-ticking’ of my Pipbuck. This rain is radioactive!
“Oh buck me sideways and call me a filly… why couldn’t they have given me any Rad-X?!” I whine and keep galloping towards that spiked wall along the horizon, eyes locked to that goal, hoping there’s safety and shelter there for me out of the rain. Reaching ever closer to that silhouetted wall, I’m suddenly blinded, stumbling, woozy as I collapse, feeling impossibly crispy and hot, blinking the starbursts out of my eyes as I try to get back up, tasting blood as my ears ring, hornlight sparking and fading. I clumsily sit for a minute, trying desperately not to pass out as I see a unicorn racing towards me, his horn glaring mightily, lighting striking downwards at him, only sliding to the side and shattering the earth at the last possible moment, vaguely thinking it must be some kind of spell.
“Stay down! My spell took the worst of it but you still got a pretty bad hit from that lightning! I wasn’t close enough yet!” He screams as he approaches, making out the blurry details of his barding, a floppy boony hat pressed firmly to his head, goggles hiding his eyes. Fittingly enough his cutiemark is a lance of lighting crashing down, visible from that bright corona of light from his horn as he stands over me, lighting sliding off a bright dome that fades out of sight, his rifle settling down as he looks me over, stuffing a weak potion into my muzzle, obediently drinking it. Almost immediately the ringing fades away and the spots clear from my eyes, clarity slowly returning, the pain of my foreleg lessening.
A healing potion! This stallion just wasted a potion on me! I blink at him, shocked by the kindness as he pulls me to my hooves and directs me. Automatically following the stallion through the empty patch of storm ravaged road, flinching as the lightning crashes around us, but never hitting close enough to harm, the mysterious stallion groans, his horn lighting brighter every time this happens, both of us soaked to the bone now as we pass through the gates and finally reach my goal. That ominous town on the horizon looks deserted as he practically drags me into a rusty building with a huge lightning rod, passing through the door the sound of the fierce rain tapping against the roof drowns out all but the loudest of the thunder, windows rattling and the walls creaking from the force of the storm.
“You sure picked a terrible time to venture out here! You ponies should know by now to take cover during a storm this time of year! Fucking moondusted runners always risking life unnecessarily.” The stallion scoffs, setting his goggles on his hat and exposing some enchanting orange eyes, my own widening at the almost entrancing shade. “Anyways, I’m Crash, resident weathermare of this shithole. You’re real lucky I was out on the wall looking out for trouble.” Wait, weathermare? I could have sworn she was a stallion!
I tilt my head in confusion and they sigh. “Yeah, I’m a mare. I might look like a stallion but I definitely have the other bits. Fucking newcomers…” She scoffs under her breath. “You are?” She tilts those lantern eyes my direction, noting how her coat is thundercloud gray, and what little of her mane a shock of pure night black.
“I’m uh, Galloping Gale, Stable Security, sorry did you say moondusted runners? What are those? We’re not on the moon somehow or something right?” I blink, mind suddenly backfiring and spouting utter nonsense. She chuckles and inhales through her nose briefly, hopping onto a stool at the bar, letting me finally notice what’s surrounding us, ponies staring curiously, bottles in hoof as they down the beer.
As I hop onto the stool next to her, setting my free hoof on the countertop she laughs again. “You wanna say that again? Stable Security? I’m sorry but there ain’t a Stable in a hundred miles with anypony alive in it. Either you’re a liar or you’re gonna be real valuable to the wrong type of horse, y’got me?” She hardens her gaze for a second and taps a hoof on the bar, quickly getting a bottle set beside her, at which she grimaces and then glares at the bartender, tapping the hoof again as he gulps and straightens a ratty tie, quickly setting another bottle down at her hoof. She finally grins at him and tosses him a bag of something that jingled as it landed in his hoof. Pushing one of the bottles to me I pop the top and set the cap on the table, levitating the bottle up and sniffing curiously, nose wrinkling at the sour stench on beer.
I take a pull off the bottle, trying to appreciate the gift, and not appear ungrateful to the one who saved my life. “Moondusted basically means they live on the moon, figuratively, like, their mind is out of this world, they’re moonmares, or just ditzy as hell and not really paying attention. It’s a figure of speech I use instead of full on calling someone a crazy mule for galloping down an empty road during lighting season. You know, like you.” She takes a deep pull off her bottle, those eyes never leaving mine. I gulp and grin sheepishly, wincing at the pain in my forleg flaring up briefly, considering the Med-X stashed in my barding.
“So who are you, in such pristine barding, carrying nothing but a rusty hunk of steel, claiming to be from a Stable? Like I said, that’s something you shouldn’t tell a single pony around. Personally I don’t care, I make enough caps shielding this little burg from the worst of the storms, and raiders won’t mess with the only town around that can protect them from the storms out of the rift.” I listen and nod, sipping at my beer as she speaks, making a mental note of her warning. I rub my good hoof along the embroidery Ripsaw left on my collar.
“Let’s just say I pissed off my boss and he fired me? Kicked me out of my home and broke my leg, leaving me with nothing but the clothes on my back?” I ask her, ears tilting forward, hoping for approval or more guidance. I close my ocean blue eyes for a moment.
“That’s better for your sake if you keep to that story or just don’t bring up where you’re from anyways. Also I don’t know why you painted youself safety yellow, but be glad you did, I wouldn’t have spotted you if you hadn’t, fool colt, galloping in through that gale. Oh, heh…” She chuckles at having worked my name in like that as I glance at that peeling orange paint, flaking off my fur, cracking in places.
“I hadn’t quite realized it didn’t wash off yet. That was a present from the ov- boss’s boys.” I stumble and slip slightly, getting a warning gaze as she finishes her beer, then she stretches, joints cracking.
“Listen, bunk with me, and when this storm dies down we can discuss what you’re gonna do to pay me back, ok?” Her rough voice rumbles out, hopping down from her chair as she motions for me to follow. “Hey Chop, I’m heading up, you wanna bring that spare foldout up? You still owe me for last week remember?” She motions with a jerk of her head to follow, I watch her flank, internalizing my confusion about the missmash between her body and identity, accepting my new friend as they claim to be. Or at least hoping they’re my friend.
“You look like a Spitfire fancolt with that paint on you, you know.” She remarks as we trot past the bar, and then up some stairs, lighting flashing through shuttered, cracked windows.
I laugh. “You’re actually not wrong, I really admire Spitfire, she was an amazing flier before the war!” My brass coloured tail wags slightly, betraying my love for the topic. “I wish I could have seen her. Or flown beside her somehow.” I smile at her as she opens a door and ushers me inside, shucking off her tattered coat and giving a sigh of relief.
“I swear that damn coat gets heavier each time it rains…” She hangs the drenched jacket on a coat rack stood next to the door. “Now that we’re in private…” She turns and looks at me, staring intently. I gulp nervously. “Welcome to Zapsburg, and the Rift in general. You wanna tell me why the fuck you’re out of that stable? I’m one of 15 ponies who actually know about Stable 07, because very few can travel that way into the Rift.” I cough awkwardly and force a sheepish grin as my foreleg throbs painfully.
“I might have broken the Overstallion’s ribs. And his daughter hated my guts. They exiled me, and I don’t know what I’m doing out here. I was security so I do know how to fight, or detain somepony. Is there anything in particular you want to know? What’s the Rift anyways?” I speak earnestly, locking eyes with her, that square muzzle frowning before relaxing, her head bobbing in a nod at my answers.
“The Rift is what happens when dozens different megaspells detonate underground because a balefire bomb blasted apart the launch silos. It’s incredibly radioactive and full of hostile magic, it ripped a crack through the earth miles wide and deeper than anywhere else, nopony has survived a trip down. Your Stable is right on the edge, I’m surprised you didn’t notice what was behind you. The crack stops a mile or two away from the shore, and where it’s narrowest there’s a bridge some enterprising ghoul set up.” My eyes widen as that report, considering how earthshattering that would have been, glad I never witnessed that event, and gladder still my stable remained intact through that all.
“Oh Princesses… I knew the end was bad but that sounds worse than anything I could have imagined…” I gulp at the mere concept of such a catastrophe. Our conversation interrupted by the bartender barging in with a cot, tossing it down.
“We’re good Crash, right?” He murmurs glancing at the masculine mare who grins and sets it up, her mighty horn flaring once, cot clattering and rattling as it folds open. “Yeah Chop, we’re good, see you in the morning ok?” She nods and glances at me “I’m going to bed, not much else to talk about until after the storm passes. You want help shucking that barding? Can’t imagine it’ll feel good with that cast.”
“I wouldn’t wanna impose more than I have already but it’d be appreciated Crash” My horn flares and I unbuckle my barding, rusty tire iron clanking to the ground as Crash helps me out of the snug barding, her eyes lighting on the embroidered patch on the collar.
“Shit for weapons, but this barding is pretty good, looks like you had at least one pony in your corner before you left.” She tosses it on the chair at her desk, “Wings huh? Guess you really are a wanna-be pegasus.” She pauses, eyeing my body. “You’re… built like a mare. I ain’t one to talk or criticize but I’d have never guessed with that barding. Makes me glad I hauled you in. Get some sleep and we’ll get you to work.” I settle onto the cot as she flops onto her bed, those lantern lit eyes closing, hiding that almost lambent glow, I stare briefly at the Med-X poking out of my pocket, idly wondering if I should, mind racing from the events of the day, eyes clenched shut as I try to work past the memories of that strike of lightning, trembling as I finally realise how close to death I came in my first day in the wasteland, and worried for what my path will hold. Drifting off to dreamlands, imagining flying through the storm that day instead of getting rescued by the odd mare.
“Goodnight Uncle Sweep, Goodnight Rip, I hope you guys stay safe… I wish I could have stayed” I whisper to myself, eyes drifting to my new barding as I start to slumber.
Author's Note
I'm back horses! Not that many read my stories but meh, I decided to get back into writing. I'm so tired of giving up on life so I'm taking something back for once. Much appreciation to my dear friend Hidden, who helped edit and advise me for this new chapter, and a moment of silence for all those precious foals I stole commas from. There were so many...