Fallout Equestria : Northern Exposure

by Aponymetic

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Adventure, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 9512

As two cities fight for supremacy on this unforgiving land,an adventurer has problems of his own.

The northern wastes are hardly forgiving... one might wonder, why anypony would choose to live on these frigid lands? But lo and behold... the wastelanders hunger' knows no bounds... not one, but two citites sucessfully sprouted among the northlands: Stalliongrad, as a phoenix revived from the ruins of its former self by a rag-tag group of zebra outcasts, and Hoofsburg, a small ghost town refurbished by the NCR in order to properly explore the coal mine nearby.

These two cities vie for control over the resources of these frigid lands, however, an unlikely adventurer's fate might tip off the delicate balance between these two powers...

(rated T for teen due to swearing and violence.)

Published 2012-08-20 02:04:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-20 02:04:02 UTC

Doghouse

The bulky being paced around the cell for the thousandth time... though his body was locked down and restrained, his mouth and mind were not…

“I say” He spoke, even though there was nobody there to hear. ”its time for another recapitulation. It all began around three weeks ago, when…”

“Again with that?” A feminine voice chirped from his metallic collar. “You keep going on, and on, and on every freaking day… there’s no damn audience, just you and me… who already know that story from top to bottom.”

“Shushhh…” The diamond dog voiced back. “I’ve told you already about the importance of keeping track of current events, especially on a confusing cesspool of turd, ice, radiation and nutcases that is the wasteland.”

“If you’re so smart, how the heck you ended up here?” A slight tone of frustration could be picked up on the voice, as if it were obligatorily resigned to a task it didn’t liked the slightest bit. “You know… no matter how much you recall events, the outcome remains all the same.”

The prisoner merely stopped in front of one of the walls of his cell, his scrawny dark fur and tired amber eyes were a sign that time and nature had taken its toll on him… not to mention the current events that led to his imprisonment.

“That’s hardly the point.” He spoke, stopping to yawn loudly. “A being who doesn’t bother enough to keep track of its past doesn’t have much of a future .The key to remain up to date with your surroundings and have a limpid view of your current situation is the frequent recapitulation of key events.” The creature barked to nobody in particular. “I’m talking to myself, you only listen because you desire to.”

“Hardly.” The voice talked back. “I strictly do it because that’s my job, as if I didn’t have anything better to do…”

“On a cranky mood today, aren’t we?” The diamond dog slyly remarked. “So, anyway… I was minding my own business, being a new arrival on these parts and all… when THESE people” And he pointed to the collar. “Launched a concussive blast with their technological thingamajig and disobligingly relocated me to this cramped quarters for no apparent reason but to…”

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake!” The voice from within the collar interrupted. “Before this, you were just a homeless bum, a loner wandering the northern wastes with no purpose or motive… we gave you a home, an opportunity to help us help yourself.”

“No purpose? I have a purpose, and a noble one… you know it, lady…”

“A quest doomed to failure, I know it way too much.” Her voice stung. “Don’t you think we’ve been using our scanners to look for them as well? Let me tell you, our network of informants is way more robust than yours, and yet, I am speaking with the only one subject we could find around these parts... not even hellhounds brave this edge of the world.”

“Not that you crew is doing too well… the Steel Rangers used to be a force to be reckoned in the past…” The diamond dog smiled ironically. “Nowadays, after you guys got your ass handed over on the Ponave, you’re just a bunch of hiding cowards…”

“We are just suffering a minor setback, that’s it.” The collar angrily snapped. “In no time we’ll roll back into our former glory.”

“It’s okay…” The diamond dog sat on the bare floor, smiling like a foal that just got a birthday gift. “I would too hide in the deepest, coldest hole that I could find if I were bitch-slapped by none other than the new cocksucking republic…”

“You brought this on yourself…” She voiced back, and one second later, a continuous current of electricity flowed from the device, sending the prisoner rolling on the floor on a fit of pain, making his teeth clack wildly , his body stiffen up and detracting all his conscious thoughts towards the feeling of pain.

After a while, the stunning effect of the electric shock has passed and the creature slowly regained his train of thought. He knew they wouldn’t risk killing him, but that didn’t impede them from controlling him through pain.

“So, moving on…” He slowly continued “I woke up on this scumhole, just to find that I’ve been not only trapped here against my will, but deprived of my stuff… having been left only a loincloth and this blasted collar, a leash that is combined to a torture device, though the worst of it is having to hear the lady behind it, a scribe gal designated to oversee me… she’s been nagging me straight for a week, and since she wouldn’t tell her name to a “lowly subject” , I’ve been addressing her as “the jailor”, which happens to be quite appropriate, since…”

“It’s fortunate that I’ve learned to dismiss such trash-talking from my previous experience with others of your ilk…” She cleared her throat. “If you were only a tad cooperative, dirtbag, you would be able to see what we’re actually doing here… we are helping you.”

The diamond dog rose from the floor and pointed his finger to one of the walls of his cubic prison, it didn’t mattered to which wall he pointed, the rangers had everything monitored. “First, if you’re going to speak to me, lady, get my damn name right… it’s FLEA-bag, not dirtbag, deuchebag, or scumbag.” Then, the creature pointed a second finger. “And secondly, you expect people to be in their jolly moods after you guys not only catch them against their will, but lock them up into a stupid 4x4 cubicle of metalic walls? For serious?” Fleabag snarled loudly. “Knowing you steel rangers and all of the shiny technological wonders you guys keep bagging for yourselves, I would expect something cooler, at very least… stasis chambers or cryogenic tubes… why do you guys get cheap on me?” And he angrily waved his fist to one of the walls. “I want to be left on suspended animation! I want to be fed through osmosis! I want to have those little rubber tubes sticking from me while my body floats through a rich nutrient solution! Anything would be better than this, being left without anything to do but eat and poop, for a whole week…”

“You think you’ve got it bad, buddy?” The jailor’s voice once again filled the prison. “You’ve been given a home and spare time to boot for a week, while I have to monitor you FOR THE WHOLE DAMN TIME! You have no idea; I can only take a break while you’re sleeping… I can’t afford to take my eyes off you for a second if I want to be eligible for that promotion.”

“I’m flattered, really…” The diamond dog sarcastically remarked. “But why would you have to go through all the pain to certify that I am taking my meals regularly?”

“Of course, to keep your mutt-addled brain out of harm’s reach…” The jailor explained. “And to keep you from getting too potty-mouthed.”

“Not much around here that can harm me, you guys pretty much rounded every sharp corner, placed protection over every wall socket and locked up the drugs cabinet…” Fleabag resumed walking through his minuscule containment cell. “The only thing that could really kill me is your temper combined with this collar of yours.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many subjects engage on self-destructive behavior after they learn of their fate, which is why it is protocol to leave them on a probative period of one week to let them get used to their surroundings and with us.” She quickly replied. “And about the collar, think of it as just another protective measure… I am sure that one as familiarized with the wasteland such as you already recognized it from somewhere…”

Fleabag gazed at one of the reflective walls and slowly caressed his own neck… it took a while for him to get used to the new accessory, and getting used to the lady on the other side of it was a much more challenging task… yet, he knew where the device came from.

“It is one of those slave collars used by slaver folks, I’ve heard about them…” The canine lowered his eyes to the shiny gleaming leash… a silver collar that strapped him to the jailor’s will. “It has been said that they have explosives inbuilt into them, and the owner can rig them to blow the slave to smithereens if he disobeys… though I am pretty sure that the default collars are unable to send an electrical discharge like mine…”

“It’s because they have been customized to fit our needs. We couldn’t afford losing valuable subjects and collateral propriety damage by blowing them up in the instant they displease us.” The jailor retorted. “We’ve removed the explosives from the collars, adding a shock Taser instead… so we can properly deal with the subjects on a both educating and entertaining fashion. Plus, as a safety precaution, there’s a second feature on the collar, just you don’t get funny ideas if you somehow disable the Taser: a syringe that can administer butt load doses of sleeping powder, a powerful narcotic which ought to buck your senses straight to the moon without doing harm.”

“So, if I get everything right, you guys meant everything so that I wouldn’t get hurt…” Fleabag shook his head distrustfully. “Why?”

“As I’ve said already, you are the only uninfected subject we ever located. Gathering data about you might be the key to developing a cure to the condition that afflicts the hellhounds…”

“You don’t expect me to believe all this bullshit, do you?” Fleabag said as he sat back against a wall. “I know about you steel rangers. I know that you guys couldn’t care less about helping the wasteland… all you do is hoard technology and live your “shining knight who is morally above than the rest of us” delusions… the agenda of “charity” and “selfless” helping is done by that load of stinking anarchists, the followers…” The diamond dog focused his gaze at the empty ceiling. “The way I see, you want to keep me to gather data in order to get an edge while fighting the hellhounds, find their weakness and cripple them or somehow turn them to your cause… so you can get your hooves on their tech.”

“Believe what you wish, fact is that you can’t really do squat about it…” The jailor spoke from the collar. “You’re into a contention cell, three levels down into a bunker which is deep underground, and also, your equipment is impounded and you are monitored 24-7, there’s not a thing you can do without me knowing about It, plus the collar and the fact that there is a whole squadron of power-armored paladins close by, ready to mop up anything that might be a threat to us… in essence, you’re all bark and no bite.” And she laughed for several minutes. “Trust me; everything will be better if you act cooperatively during the whole thing.”

“Not like I have other choice than being your guinea pig, do I?” Fleabag lazily slouched on the floor. “It is just that doing nothing is killing me, right now...”

“Don’t fret… tomorrow you will complete your one-week probative period, thanks goodness… we already have a lifetime worth of footage showing a fully grown diamond dog itching his scrotum” And she sighed heavily. “Then you will earn your keep by performing special tasks designed to… well, analyze your capabilities and catalogue your behavior, everything destined to feed our database.”

“Let me guess…” And the diamond dog held his chin, thoughtfully. “You’ll be perching over my neck the whole damn time to make sure I do as you ask, do you?”

“As if you weren’t used to it already…”The jailor chirped back. “Somepony has to make sure that you don’t screw up, and you better do not. I need this promotion badly…it is bad enough that I spent a whole year searching for a promising specimen, and the best we could get our hooves on was, well… you.”

“I usually cause that impression on most people” The prisoner laid on the floor and waved his paw in a dismissing gesture. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a full day tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep. Wake me up then, will ya?”

“Just don’t over-strain yourself before the assignments” The voice on the collar spoke. “Its sure as hell most of them won’t be a walk on a sandy beach.”

A few bugs and...

“Rise and shine, my little subject...” The jailor cheerfully greeted through the collar’s radio. “Today we begin our true work down here.”

The diamond dog stretched his arms, still a bit groggy… he got used to sleeping into the cold floor, but it was still as uncomfortable as ever… not that he got much luxury into his cell… just four walls, a ceiling and a funnel-shaped furniture that he was instructed to use as urinal… apart from that, there was just a small ventilation hole into one of the walls… it was so little that not even a rat could crawl through it.

“So, whatcha’ have for me, girl?” Fleabag stretched his arms. “First day of work, looking forward to get over with this and leave this stupid place forever.”

“Yes, I am sure you are…” She retorted, displeased as ever. “Just chug your breakfast and we can get on with it.”

And as soon as she spoke, one of the blocks from the ceiling opened, giving space to a tube that dropped some meat onto the floor, just like it did before every time that they wished to feed Fleabag.

“Breakfast?” The diamond dog approached the small stack of meat. “It’s not like I can discern time down her, for all I know, might be afternoon, or even evening… why I’d take your word for it?”

“You don’t have to, really, it doesn’t matter the slightest…” The jailor answered. “Just eat it.”

“Another thing that had been bothering me…” The diamond dog eyed the food suspiciously. “Why do I have to eat it with my paws? Can’t I have a plate, a fork and knife? I believe that this propagates undeserved stereotypes toward my race.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that one…” She voiced. “When you were all by yourself, on the wastes, did you happen to use a fork, knife and plate to eat your meals?”

“That’s not the point here, what I mean is that…”

“Quit yapping and eat your damn meal already!” The jailor angrily snapped. “For Celestia’s sake, you’re insupportably annoying…know that we had a lot of trouble to bring meat to feed you and the others.”

“Fine, fine…” And Fleabag begun to stuff himself. “Others?” He spoke between a bite and another. “You mean there are more freaks down here?”

“Thinking you’re special?” She began. “Not at all. We’ve got quite a few subjects around here, occupying this whole floor… each one assigned to its own scribe.”

“So, you people have been jailing other creatures just for the kicks of it? That’s sick…” The diamond dog chewed on a bone that came along with the meat. “And here I thought that I couldn’t respect the steel rangers even less…”

“If it gives you a sense of comfort, just half a dozen of them are like us, having any sort of sentience… and all of them are war prisoners” The jailor spoke. “Mostly of them, NCR personnel we could hold one during our… hasty departure. Though the great majority of our subjects are mutated animals and ghouls, the bunch of usual threats you’d find on the wastes… except that we can experiment with them and learn from their actions on a controlled environment.”

“Okay, they’re war prisoners, I can tolerate that… probably saw it coming… mindless mutants, okay too… but the thing that bothers me…” Fleabag scratched his chin. “Is that I don’t fill on any of those categories… Why are you keeping me?”

“Can’t you see it?” She asked. “You’re endangered species… we need to learn from you and safeguard you…”

“Except for the whole fact that I never asked for this brand of… protection.” And the diamond dog finished chewing on his food. “There, finished the most important meal of the day, now unleash me…”

“Good, let’s begin…” She voiced, the only door opening and giving passage to the outside.. “Be mindful that I still have control over you through the collar, so just do as I ask you.”

“Never thought about doing anything apart from it…” Fleabag sarcastically remarked, walking out of his prison.

Not that “outside” was much better, just a bigger prison, the lowest floor of a bunker, complete with rusted walls, grime tiles, copper pipes and smog among determined sections.

“At your right, you shall find a locker containing some of your possessions.” The jailor informed. “It is imperative that you take them, they will be useful on the task ahead of you.”

Fleabag just shook his head and walked to the designated locker, a small, rusted green locker… it was unlocked, and inside it, he was able to get his scrap armor and his baseball bat back.

Nothing much to say about the two, the scrap armor being a rough mishmash of leather, fur ,metal rivets, and a cowl, it was custom-made by its owner to fit his own unusual frame without much hindrance, though it was not as protective as its ponycrafted counterpart... at least, it kept him warm. As to the baseball bat, it was a weapon that Fleabag carried with him since the beginning, just an ordinary bat made of oak that was his main weapon…

After a while dressing up on his garb, Fleabag spent a few minutes waving his bat around, just to remind himself of the weight center of the weapon and the correct swing motion to get the most of it.

“Now that you had your fun, we should really get on to running your assignments.” The jailor voiced, interrupting Fleabag’s thoughts.

“Tell me, I am going to need to kill something, haven’t I?” Fleabag smiled wryly.

“It is the bat that gives you the impression, doesn’t it?” She answered. “As a matter of fact, yes, you do… we need to collect data about your fighting style, don’t worry though… I know you spent a whole week locked up, your skills are bound to be a tad rusty, so we will start with something easy enough…”

“What you have in mind for me?” The diamond dog eyed his bat with expectation… he enjoyed the thrill of combat, the adrenaline of the contest between two beings to best one another…

“Nothing much, just eight bloatsprites for you to mop up with that bat of yours… they are probably buzzing around by now… since we already done all the research with those creatures, they are expendable enough to aid on researching you.” The jailor answered to the diamond dog.

“Bloatsprites?” Fleabag’s face contorted to a bemused motion. “Don’t you think I might be a little bit of overkill against those things? I mean, they are hardly a challenge for a competent adventurer.”

“That we shall see… just think of it as a way for us to check your skills in order to properly come up with future tasks.” She voiced through the collar. “Now get on to smacking hapless critters.”

“Right away, miss…” The diamond dog waved his baseball bat ready and dashed through the corridors, longing for the rush of combat once again…

The surroundings consisted of multiple corridors and a few clearings, without any access to the top floors… those might be located at the borders of the area…

And after a while running through the long corridors, the dog finally caught the scent of his prey, a rotten mixture of mold and slime… the creature buzzed around, its disgusting body colored on a sickly green tone, with numerous round protuberances, detachable spines, uneven wings and dark beady eyes placed on an almost random fashion along it… the bloatsprite flied erratically, as if it was confused…

A prime target for a smackdown, Fleabag thought.

He approached the disoriented creature and struck his bat over the mutant’s body, pinning him against the bat and a wall, leaving nothing but a lifeless mass of pus.

“One down, seven to go!” The diamond dog spoke, shaking his bat to clear off the creature’s matter from it. “Told you it was going to be a piece of cake.”

“Don’t get too cocky, you were just lucky.” Fleabag’s jailor voiced. “Now look sharp, there’s more around…”

As an answer to her, two more bloatsprites flanked the diamond dog… he pointed his bat to the one at his left, while keeping his eyes to the one at the right… Fleabag just needed an opportunity to strike a deadly blow at one of them, followed by a defensive stance in order to stand up to the second one.

He propelled himself to the right, flinging his bat right onto the bloatfly’s direction… only to strike through the air, the actual creature having dodged the attack… the diamond dog was caught on his own wild swing through the place where the creature had been previously, giving the mutants an opening…

The two bloatsprites screeched and launched their spines at the intruder, one of them striking Fleabag’s right arm, while the second projectile tore through his thigh, the pain sending the diamond dog on a frenzy…

He recovered from the failed swing and struck the nearest mutant on an upright strike, sending the pus-filled ball flying away, proceeding to the second bloatsprite almost instantly.

As the insect fired a second spine, Fleabag whirled his own body downwards; escaping the projectile… he reached out to the mutant and struck the squishy critter in a savage vertical swing, crumbling to the floor afterwards.

Still aching a bit from the bloatsprites’ attack, he raised to his own feet… the closest critter was dead, while the one which was sent upwards was scrambling on the floor… the mutant had crash-landed, since Fleabag’s attack had crippled one of his wings, leaving the other one unable to sustain the bloatsprite’s body.

The diamond dog wasted no time on smacking the harmless mutant.

“Not too shabby, heh…” He voiced, letting out a loud groan while attempting to remove the spines struck into his body. “Those caught me off-guard; just you know…you’re distracting me”

“Excuses, excuses…” She harshly retorted. “One ought to put the blame on ANYTHING but him… you see now what happens to those who are overconfident cunts…”

“It’s just a slight wound… I’ll walk over it.” Fleabag discarded the retrieved spines. “five pests left…”

“You may suck at fighting, but your math is flawless…” The jailor dryly remarked “Perhaps there is hope for you, after all…”

“Shut your bucking piehole… you’re supposed to keep me out of harm’s way, not to be a beacon for those things…” The diamond dog whispered angrily. “Just keep it down…”

“Okay, okay… I’ll toss you a bone and lower the volume…” She whispered back. “Happy now?”

Instead of retorting the jailor’s banter, Fleabag focused on the task at hand. It was bad as it was; even without the jailor to nag him… a week of forced vacation had left him almost lethargic… he was supposed to be able to wipe critters like that without any problem.

Heading into the eastern corridor and going forward as long as he could, Fleabag eventually hit a continuous wall that cordoned the whole area, the border of the current floor. He changed his course to the north, in order to scout his surroundings.

“Cold, ice freezing cold…” The jailor spoke softly. “I assumed you were good at this…”

As the canine neared the northeastern corner, his eyes were able to make out three more bloatsprites, floating around a stair set that led to the upper section.

Bingo, the diamond thought with his buttons… he only needed to wipe out the pests before.

There was no use on sneaking, since the combined sensorial perception of three bloatsprites could easily pick up a target as big as him, Fleabag knew that much well.

Instead, he favored a blunt approach: yelling like a maniac and brandishing his bat menacingly.

That attracted the mutants’ attention rather quickly, and soon enough they begun to launch their sharp spines toward the diamond dog.

Due to the distance, he easily dodged the first wave of projectiles, taking advantage of the idle period that the bloatsprites needed before firing again…

He closed the gap just in time to catch the nearest mutant sprouting a fresh spine, which he never had the opportunity to use.

While Fleabag was busy disposing of that particular mutant, the other two launched their pronged projectiles upon him. The one aimed at the diamond dog’ leg ended up into the protective piece of leather armor placed over said limb, causing no harm… however, the second spine carved a grim wound between his neck and right shoulder.

“Fucker!” Fleabag angrily mumbled. “That’s my swinging arm!” He raised the left arm and grabbed the closest bloatsprite, constraining the squishy critter between his digits… no matter how desperately it contorted to escape from the diamond dog’s grip, it was to no avail… his sheer force eventually overwhelmed the plumb body, shattering it and covering Fleabag with a coat of pus.

Wiping off the fluid from his eyes, a nearby buzz reminded him about the third mutant… the bloatsprite used the interval to fly closer to the hound, preparing to fire its spine at point-blank.

The bloatsprite had hesitated… the diamond dog had not.

Using both of his hands to swing the bat, he bashed the flying mutant, sending it away with great speed before finding a rather hardy wall on its path…

Fleabag shook off most of the pus and spent a good chunk of time retrieving the spine.

“Not bad, not bad at all…” The jailor commented. “You seem particularly able to overcome disadvantageous situations and turn them to your favor… a trait much appreciated.”

“Why?” He questioned, the wound aching in a world of pain. “So you can toss bigger creatures on me with a conscience discharge?” The prisoner sneered. “That’s not very nice of you, but then again… I shouldn’t expect anything nice from you, on the first place…”

“Just so you know, the feeling is mutual.” She rambled “Your overall performance is borderline regular at best, deadbeat.”

Paying no heed to her, Fleabag climbed the stairs… sure, they led to the upper floor, but a metallic door was blocking the path.

“No way, Jose…” The bane of his life began its ceaseless prattling again. “Do you seriously believe we were stupid enough to not have that covered? That’s rather gullible of you, Fleabag… now go back down; there are still two pests around.”

The diamond dog gave a good glance to the door before leaving: He had seen a few doors like that on his previous incursions, from the looks of it, this one underwent repair recently, as if something or someone broke it, during or before the period when the steel rangers moved in… sure, it was sturdy… impervious to any melee weapon and most firearms, although… an well-placed explosive powerful enough could quake the area, damaging the hinges supporting the door from the other side, while a melee weapon hitting the door after that could wobble the already damaged hinges out of place, making it possible for one to simply pull it and gain passage.

However, it was unlikely that the steel rangers would supply their subjects with explosives, was it? The canine asked himself. After all, they ought to have learned something after witnessing how well did that worked out for the NCR and its prisoners…

Besides, there was the collar to keep him on check, plus a whole retinue of steel rangers right behind that wall…

“Fuck it…” Fleabag grumbled, deciding it was best to complete the task at hand… he walked away from the door and resumed the hunt.

It wasn’t long until he stumbled on the last pair of mutants… not like they had anywhere to go. Now that he was already used to the surroundings, these ones weren’t much of a hassle: The diamond dog dashed onwards, using his feet to bounce on a nearby wall , getting enough momentum to shatter apart the nearest bloatsprite on a vicious blow, followed by a quick charge at the second one, disorienting the critter and allowing the diamond dog to trample it beneath his paws.

“Very well…you seem to have gotten the hang of it.” She complemented as Fleabag busied himself shaking off the pus… it was a nightmare! Foul-smelling and of a viscous consistence, it cling to his fur… “I guess that’s enough for today… not so bad, eh?”

The diamond dog was only half-heartedly listening, his attention at a big, circular-shaped door along the wall, around two feet from him… much alike the door that gave passage to his room.

Chances are, that was another subject’s cell as well…

Shoving such thoughts aside, he turned his attention back to the jailor. “So, what now?” He croaked a bit from the pain. “I just… go back to my cell?”

“Actually, you don’t even need to…” The jailor answered him. “All subjects need to be treated properly so we can maximize their performance… meaning that your wounds will be treated and you will be properly groomed by the assigned caretakers… that treatment, a good night of sleep and two days of rest ought to make you brand new again.”

“You mean that there are ponies that will bathe me?” Fleabag blushed heavily at the thought of that… a hot bath and several hooves rubbing him all over… “I… never asked for that.”

“Too bad you’ll be too busy being knocked out to actually enjoy it…” She voiced. “Just a safety measure…”

“Oh…” And the diamond dog regained his composure. “And what about these two days before giving me a new assignment? Do I really need to wait that long? This was quite… refreshing.”

“You’ll need those two days in order to be fit…” The jailor retorted. “Besides, it’s…”

“Protocol… yeah; your hooves are constrained in said regard.” He completed. “I don’t get it… why do I have to rot for two entire days?”

“We need some time to clean your mess, and your wounds need a few days to heal properly… also, there are other subjects needing assignments besides you…”

“Speaking of that… how well I did? I know that I didn’t exactly aced the whole thing, but you ought to give me a few points for…”

The diamond dog couldn’t utter any other word after that, as a strange, irresistible wave of numbness and dormancy struck his neck, quickly spreading to the rest of his body as the sleeping powder traveled through his blood, knocking out the diamond dog.

“I’d say that the best word to classify your performance today would be adequate.”

When shrooms are not enough.

When shrooms are not enough.

Fleabag took several gulps from the plastic bottle, letting the hydrating water stave his thirst. The bottle had been deployed to his cell just a while ago, even thought his last meal had been around two hours ago… she wanted him to be on his top form for today’s assignment, most certainly.

“I hope you find everything up to your expectations…” The jailor sneered. “It’s not every day we have the opportunity to accommodate visitors, especially one as sophisticated as you…”

“Cut the bullshit, will you?” The diamond dog fumed as he tossed aside them empty plastic bottle. “I’m sick of you talking crap on my ears… just set me free.”

“Oh, but we have so much to learn from you, Fleabag…” She couldn’t just shut up, could she? “While on the wasteland your skills would be wasted on lost causes, here… you can actually contribute with our efforts, you are aiding us on getting a trot closer to saving the wasteland.”

“As if I even asked for that on the very fucking place…” Fleabag retorted. “Aid you on your moronic, past-lived delusions of renewal… you people should really let go the past.” And the diamond dog sighed. “If you really wish to progress, know that the wasteland isn’t supposed to be saved… it is what we make of it… the best would be if we adapted to it instead of forcibly fighting nature’s course…” Fleabag voiced, stopping for a moment before continuing. “I mean, that’s the kind of attitude that has spawned the wasteland on the very first place…”

“This is nothing alike the past…” The jailor answered. “We have newfound knowledge that will prevent us from treading the very same path to disaster… actually, if we garner enough knowledge, we CAN renew the wasteland to an even better shape than it was before the whole accident… we have the technology to, we have the duty to and we sure as heck have the birthright to.”

Fleabag merely nodded his head in disappointment. It was like talking to a door… a door that was strapped to his neck.

“But moving on…” She continued. “We have an awful lot to do today…”

“More senseless killing, I take it?” Fleabag voiced on an unamused tone. “Not like you actually have any other pretenses for keeping me here than setting me up against other beings for fun and profit…”

“I take it that the return to your usual annoyingly inquisitorial personality is a sign that your wounds healed nicely…” She spoke, not giving much attention to the diamond dog’s banter. “Which should be most fortunate for today’s assignment…”

“Give me names; I’ll give you corpses…” Fleabag grumbled.

“While I certainly appreciate your enthusiasm, you aren’t ready yet for that step up on difficulty.” The jailor voiced. “I though about something lighter, like fighting mutants again… bigger, more resilient mutants…”

“Whenever… you name’em: albino molerats, saberseals, timberwolves, if ya got any… anything, except…”

“You’ve being sent to kill a pack of radhogs.” She bluntly answered.

The diamond’s dog face contorted into a scowl of fury. “NO! Anything, except…” And he slouched to the ground, raising his eyes to the ceiling, his gaze burning straight through the walls. “You evil, soulless, irremediable bitch! I can forgive anything you might do to me, but forcing me to kill radhogs? Fuzzy-wuddly-cuddly radhogs who never did anything bad to anypony? What did they ever done to you?” And his resolve only got fiercer. “You’re a sick, deranged, demented bastard mare with no hope whatsoever of redemption… picking on poor little radhogs…”

“That was unexpected…” The jailor’s voice faltered. “What’s the deal with you and radhogs, anyway?”

“Not that’s any of your business, but I have dreams.” Fleabag harshly retorted. “Dreams of someday retiring of this whole madness, taming some radhogs and setting up a small little farm with them to hunt for truffles…”

“How touching…” She untruthfully remarked. “Too bad you’re being sent to kill a few of them, whether you like it or not…”

Fleabag gruffly eyeballed his collar. “Just send me in then, I’ll sit through the whole damn thing.” He whispered softly to the device. “It’s not like you can really force me to fight after all… just shock me all day long, and since I’m too “valuable” for your escalade through the steel rangers’ hierarchy to be preliminary disposed of, you’ll never kill me.”

“You forget that you’ll have to fend off against the radhogs or you’ll die all the same, Fleabag…” She cackled a bit. “You cannot fight it.”

“We’ll see about that… no radhog would attack a target as bulky as me. They may be mutants, but they aren’t stupid…” The diamond dog replied in turn. “And last time I checked, the steel rangers weren’t able to directly change animal behavior. By the way, how did you guys got your hooves on radhogs? They aren’t exactly common on this corner of the world.”

“We brought our own brood of them before setting shop on this region, along with anything we could gather from our tactical withdrawal from the Ponave, years ago…” She answered swiftly. “And about that little theory of yours… you /assume/ that we’re speaking about ordinary radhogs here, when in reality…” A hint of pride could be picked up from her voice. “You see, a few weeks ago we successfully stormed a raider lair… the whole incursion yielded a decent amount of loot, although it also yielded more chems than we could ever want… and since we don’t really make use of those…”

Fleabag almost choked. “You sick, perverted, depraved abomination of nature and all that is good! You drugged them, don’t you? Blasted drugged them radhogs and now you’re sending the poor piggies to their own death!”

“Pretty much… you’ll see how much more aggressive they get when fed on chems… we originally had a dozen of them, until they begun fighting over for the “baptized” food.” She chuckled. “The five remaining survivors will prove to be a fine match for your abilities.”

The diamond dog just gazed to the ground; wordlessly… he couldn’t find any other way out other than poaching the radhogs… Fleabag furrowed his brow in annoyance. “You will pay for this… I’ll put you down on my list.”

“Seeing how you are chained down, that’s quite a hollow promise, don’t you think?” She sneered back at him. “But thanks for your concern with me anyway… let’s get on with business.”

As she completed the sentence, the cell door opened yet again.

Trying to shrug away his discomfort, Fleabag made his way to the locker that contained his gear.

Inside, he picked up his bat, his old armor, and this time, his customized mooisin neighant rifle along with a box of bullets.

“This time, we desire to see to what extent you’re actually proficient on the use of firearms.” The jailor explained. “The bat is merely a precaution, in the event you’re stupid enough to squander all the bullets.”

“What if I refuse to comply?” He growled. “I’ve put on more than enough of my share of patience down here…”

“Death is also a viable option…” She answered. “Not like it would be much different on the surface… the northern wastes are hardly forgiving.”

“You could just have done some old-fashioned Q&A with me, but noooo… you had to pull out the whole evil-dungeon-mastermind-esque kind of act…” The diamond dog grumbled as he slowly walked his way along the corridors. “No consideration whatsoever…”

“Some of us do have accuracy quotas to fill, and the research value of knowing your favorite color, or what’s your preferred tune is almost nil… besides, I don’t trust you the slightest.” The jailor retorted.

“Good to know” He barked back at his captor. “So I’ll feel way less guilty when I jailbreak my own ass away from here.”

“Keep dreaming…” The jailor hissed.

Hardly amused with his whole predicament, Fleabag cocked his reinforced rifle ready. The weapon’s structure had been reinforced with an additional layer of iron… without it, the feeble weapon would certainly break apart or jam, due to the diamond dog’s sheer size and strength.

It was always like this… most stuff had been made by ponies, for ponies… of course, the hellhounds also crafted their own stuff, but crazed, tortured, trigger-happy mutants aren’t on the best of moods for trading. That’s why he traveled to the north, to get away from those who were nothing but a sad remainder of his race… just a shell of their former selves. Fleabag set out on a search for others, others like him… who retained their sanity.

The diamond dog sighed, stopping a minute to reflect, leaning over his weapon… so far, the whole thing had gone downhill quicker than an ADD-afflicted raider pumped up on dash and caffeine who just saw a fresh vault dweller down there… apart from not being able to find any canine around these parts, tainted or not, he had to deal with hypothermia, crushing climate conditions and the less-than-amicable local fauna… and now, to top everything, being captured by a bunch of wacko fetishists/ hoarders/ egocentric ponies who formed this region’s ranger of steel’ chapter… and they forced him into lab rat duty... at least, he had known the stragglers… yeah, that was the only…

A wave of shock washed through his body at that point, quickly spreading from the device at his neck, flushing away the diamond dog’s conscious thoughts and forcing him to focus on the pungent pain, his limbs being stiffened and locked in place as he lost balance, his rifle shattering onto the floor.

“You aren’t being paid to stick around doing nothing, get to hunting…” Never a break, she was always there to remind him of his current misfortune. “We have a strict timetable here, buddy…”

“I’m not being paid /at all/!” Fleabag grunted, shaking off the stiffness and regaining his feet. “And I have serious complaints about workplace relationship; the PR is going to have to hear me, that’s downstraight harassment…”

“I’ll take my chances with the lawsuits…” She retorted sharply, making the diamond dog growl in displeasure. “Those radhogs aren’t going to drop dead by themselves…”

Knowing better than to give that mare another excuse to taser him, Fleabag pulled his balls together again, picked up his rifle and set out onto the eerie corridors to hunt for the mutants.

He hated every inch of those decrepit, ill-preserved corridors… the artificial calefaction, the suffocating steam that impregnated the air… nothing alike the vast underground galleries of natural tunnels that he so badly missed… the damp air and wind currents that flowed underground…

That’s when he stumbled into one of the radhogs… the creature was fifty paces away from him.

The radhog was barely discernible from a bloated, four legged pile of muscles, only a dark snout and two tusks protuberating from the whole thing… what did they feed those poor radhogs?

Fleabag made a mental note to spend good fifteen minutes on examining anything that the steel rangers would give him to eat or drink. Then, he pondered on what to do… the beast was probably on massive pain from withdrawal, driving it mad… there was no way to restore the nature’s balance other than offing the poor radhog, yes… that was the ponytarian option… put the poor thing out of its misery.

So, he carefully adjusted the neighant to his shoulder, taking his time to aim at the monster…

Three shots were fired, only the last one hitting the intended target… the diamond dog cursed himself for not accounting the bullet drop. It was an amateurish mistake…

As the bullet struck onto the radhog’s massive coat of nervous tissue, the creature squealed on pain, turning to the diamond dog and dashing on a dangerous rage-fueled charge against him.

“Oh shit…” Fleabag muttered under his breath. He knew from experience that radhogs were deceptively swift. He would have enough time for only one attack or to set himself on a proper stand against the beast’s charge. Deciding against the later option, he tried his paw on the neighant for a second time…

The weapon’s kick set the diamond dog out of stance, the fired bullet ricocheting through the empty corridor, missing its mark.

The radhog headbutted his way through Fleabag’s legs, and although the canine tried to hold his ground as best as he could, he lost balance and fell.

Struggling with the physically augmented mutant, the diamond dog was finally able to intrude a closed paw between his body and the abomination’s snout, dazing the radhog.

It gave time for Fleabag to get a grip on his bat, the neighant being left out on the floor, dropped when the mutant charged his way through.

When the radhog tried to use its sharp claws for a new attack, the diamond dog was able to parry them by using his bat. That couldn’t be good for the weapon’s condition, but he had bigger worries at the moment.

As soon as could get an opening from the radhog, Fleabag directed his bat on a semicircular vertical strike, pounding its way upside the creature’s snout and face, knocking it more than a few strides away.

Eyeing the radhog quickly regain its ground, shake away the pain and prepare another charge, the diamond dog just grinned, preparing his own dash to counter the radhog’s one. “That’s all ya got, walking bacon?”

As on a cue, the mutant begun another drug-induced charge, while Fleabag also strode forward, the bat readied for a bloody sideswipe.

The two opponents clashed, the radhog getting the better of it and thrashing apart Fleabag’s left shoulder… the diamond dog shook frantically and used his bat to smack the mutant aside towards a nearby wall.

When the creature thudded against the obstacle, Fleabag attempted to suppress the pain in order to clear up the hostile first… he walked to the downed mutant and unleashed a flurry of strikes until the radhog stopped breathing.

Pain overtake the canine, he sat down to examine the wound: two large gaping injuries… those tusks were deadly, indeed… but hopefully, Fleabag was made of stern stuff as well. The diamond dog shredded a section of fabric from his armor in order to create a makeshift tourniquet… that should hold up for at least today…

“And that sets a new record.” The jailor made herself heard through the collar. “Breaking both shoulders on the same week… we ought to have a trophy or something for that kind of achievement.”

“Shut up!” Fleabag gruffly retorted, picking up his neighant and manually feeding four bullets into it. “If I die, so does your prospects of promotion.”

“They may, on immediate terms… however, I can always find out a more promising subject if you don’t fit the bill.” She voiced. “Don’t ever think for a moment you’re irreplaceable. While no steel ranger is authorized to outright dispose of uncooperative subjects, we can always leave you locked up and leave you not to run assignments… a while doing that and you’ll beg like a child for a chance to stretch those furry legs of yours.”

“And here I thought that you liked me…” Fleabag chuckled softly, the wisecracking diverting his focus from the pain. “That’s just I get for getting all dressed up, doing all of your whims and committing myself to make this relationship work out… doesn’t this collar mean anything to you?” After the last line, his laugh echoed boastfully through the corridor.

The jailor didn’t answer him. Something told the diamond dog that he, somehow, might have stepped on a few of her toes… not that she didn’t deserve it…

After two left turns and a right one, the canine spotted another radhog straight ahead. Positioning his neighant over the unharmed shoulder for maximum precision, he used the weapon’s scope to measure the distance and drop correctly this time, when he noticed that it was too far to guarantee a clear shot… he would need to lure the radhog closer.

Still holding his neighant with the right paw, the diamond dog used the left one’s fingers to whistle… a much louder whistle than those paltry ones that were within the digit-less beings’ capacity. Just one of the many advantages of possessing hands, he thought.

Predictably, the radhog begun its furious charge towards the source of the cacophony. Fleabag wouldn’t do the same mistake twice… adrenaline poured though his body as he waited until the mutant was within a reasonable range… that’s when he fired.

Two shots, one threading its way into the beast’s cheek and the other one finding its place between the radhog’s eyes.

Noticing on where he wounded the monster, Fleabag walked away from the radhog’s path, allowing the blinded mutant to charge past him on his reckless strike… which was eventually stopped by a wall.

The diamond dog simply approached the dazed mutant and made short work of it by smacking its skull with the bat.

“Hmm?” The jailor mumbled, seeming almost extraneous from Fleabag’s current progress. “Ah, you killed another one… keep it up.” She half-heartedly commented.

“What?” The diamond dog raised his eyebrows. “No insults? No witty remarks? No snide comments about my propensity of getting hurt? What have you done to my original jailor? Is she ever coming back? I sure hope that she doesn’t…”

“Are you ten or something?” She sighed. “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

“Granted that yours is much more satisfying than mine, has way more perks and flexible working hours…” Fleabag muttered under his breath.

“I’ve heard that. I suggest you keep those kind of comments to yourself, unless you happen to find shock therapy something enjoyable…”

Not having a proper comeback that wouldn’t lead to a one-sided electric beating, the canine merely reloaded two bullets into the neighant and begun pacing through the area again.

Fleabag noticed that the area was too big for that kind of exercise… the steel rangers could do all kind of combat simulations down there… thinking about it, the diamond dog thought they did that, indeed…seemed logical. He shouldn’t be surprised if he were to be put against one or more steel rangers on the future… when a loud crack followed by a series of shrieks and squeals could be heard through the area. Another radhog nearby…

Using his keen hearing senses to track down the sound to its source, Fleabag strode past a number of corridors and turns before finding the radhog…

It was already dead… something had caught it before. Deep wounds and claw scratches could be easily made out on the carcass. This radhog had fell victim to one of its own: a bigger, meaner and, quite likely, much more drugged radhog.

That wasn’t a good omen. Fleabag drew some breath and followed after a small trail of blood droplets… at least the victim didn’t go down without taking a piece of its attacker.

About ten minutes later, he stumbled into said monster: An extremely bulky creature with sickly, ragged brown fur, bloodshot eyes and a menacing complexion… this particular radhog easily towered over another one, a regular one… the bigger mutant thrashed around the smaller radhog’s corpse like it was a ragdoll.

“Heck, I’m impressed…” The jailor whispered, as if to not denounce Fleabag’s position “That alpha did as many kills as you and is on a better shape… I’m half-tempted to eschew you and take him as my subject instead…”

“He won’t look so smug when he’s dead…” Fleabag grimly voiced. “To think that cuddly little radhogs can turn out onto those… things. What did you feed them, anyway? Ghoul scabs?”

“Still wishing for a farm of those?”She chuckled. “All the bacon you can eat…”

The jailor’s words fell on deaf ears; Fleabag was too busy setting his rifle to pay attention to her retorts. He only had one chance to get it right instantly… The diamond dog shuddered at the thought of having to wrestle that giant radhog on close-quarters combat. Although he was bigger than the mutant, the radhog, thanks to his diet, surely was more resilient and well-built…

Two bullets drummed into the alpha radhog’s hide, small trickles of blood following afterwards… however… the creature didn’t even finch. Fleabag stared terrified at the that mounding pile of roids snarling angrily at him… his drug diet made the fucker almost impervious to pain!

The beast scratched the floor, piercing the diamond dog with its devilish eyes.

“Run…”

Fleabag was caught up on a strange, fear-induced kind of trance… he couldn’t stray his gaze from the alpha…

“RUN!” The jailor shouted, bringing the canine to its senses.He deftly scampered away, the mutant hot on his trail… he couldn’t overrun that trampling behemoth, so Fleabag came up with a plan: he decided to stall the radhog until it lost the diamond dog’s trail, then, shoot him from afar whenever he could get some distance… repeat ad infinitum until the monster is dead.

And so, Fleabag took multiple sharp turns, baffling the mutant and opening a gap… once the radhog’s cacophony died out, the canine took an alternative route to land behind the alpha, tracking him via its smell.

It seemed like the radhog was trying to the same, but without much success… a downer for being so pumped up on drugs. Fleabag chuckled at the beast worthlessly sniffing the floor, unable to focus on a single strain of smell… The canine set his neighant for a new attack…

Blang, another shot fired… this one scraping over the alpha’s back, nicking off the outer layer of his sickly fur… the beast once again lurched itself against Fleabag on a mad chase, and again, he was able to shake off the radhog from his tail.

I can’t keep going on like this forever, Fleabag thought. So far, the only thing he achieved was pissing off the radhog even further. He spent a few minutes considering his options, when a loud snarl brought his focus back: the prey became the hunter!

The canine had time to unload a couple of shots, staggering the radhog while it was halfway on its charge, giving Fleabag a window of opportunity for tactical retreat.

A few twists and turns later, his escape came to a halt: Fleabag bumped into a dead end. And to top that, the radhog was closing on his position, grunting wildly… the diamond dog cursed the resilient mutant, whoever came up with this facility’s layout, the steel rangers, his luck and a lot of other things… when said mutant entered Fleabag’s field of vision, the alpha’s eyes hungered… those devious eyes hungered for the diamond dog’s blood.

“So, this is it…” She voiced eerily “It was a pleasure working with you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Fleabag grumbled. “Besides, I’m not done yet…” He positioned his neighant. If he was going down, he’d go down fighting that fucking thing.

As the canine desperately squashed the trigger, only empty clicks came as response… he had forgotten to reload.

As out on sheer panic,he began to load bullets as fast as he could, while the radhog charged into a seemingly helpless prey. The diamond dog was able to chamber a bullet, then a second… but just as when he attempted to aim, the mutant trampled through him, its maws clashing upon fleabag’s feet.

Hearing his rifle and several bullets clattering into the floor, the downed canine reached out for his bat… he didn’t had much time until the radhog started making its way upwards.

Unleashing a swift kick with his unharmed feet, he was able to divert the radhog’s attention enough to pull out the wounded feet. The beast lunged for another bite, but Fleabag was ready now. He shoved the bat into the alpha’s maw.

The mutant’s strength crushed the weapon as if it was a toothpick, numerous barbs lodging themselves along the roof of his mouth, making the creature squeal madly with pain.

Fleabag blindly groped around the floor behind him in search for his rifle, while his eyes were busy keeping the mutant in check. When his paw finally met with the weapon, the canine pulled it and aimed the neighant point-blank directly at the alpha’s gaping maw…

One shot did the job, the bullet piercing straight from the wounded mouth’ roof to the radhog’s brain, offing the abomination almost instantly.

It was over now; Fleabag released a sigh of relief before kicking the heavy body off from him.

The canine was very debilitated… that radhog did gave him a run for his caps… and that was only the beginning… just the earlier assignments… one thing he knew for sure: he could gladly live his entire life without seeing another radhog again.

“Quite a hardly-attained victory… those seem to be your specialty.” The jailor sneered. “And I hope that you learned a thing or two about radhogs today… I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn vegetarian after this.”

“You wish…” He grunted. “At least, I was able to do it… I really understand the need for a couple of days’ rest now.”

“I told you were going to learn quickly enough. Anyways…” And she paused for a few minutes before continuing. “Good job… I never had doubts about you being capable to fulfill the job.”

“Yes… thanks, I guess…” The diamond dog smiled wearily, his body aching with searing pain. “Now, what about you flush me on some sleeping powder? My foot is hurting like a sonofabitch…”

“Good thing our doctors are used to treating injuries from foolhardy subjects… just hold on for a second there…”

And, for the first time, Fleabag actually welcomed the feeling brought by the sleeping powder, the pain quickly dimming into nothingness as his conscience went into submission. Just another day down there…