Fallout Equestria: Spiral

by Changeling X

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Original Character, Adventure, Crossover, Sex, Tragedy
Length: 10861

Bitter Hops' adventures in the Wasteland

A Fallout: Equestria Fan Fiction.

Bitter Hops' life is turned upside down when the Stable he lived in is attacked. Sold as a slave, he has to make sense of this new world he's exposed to, maybe make friends... and maybe, just maybe, escape.

Warning: I'm not kidding about the 'Dark' tag, so don't hate me if you really can't take it. Forewarned is forearmed, after all.

Published 2012-08-22 02:34:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-28 21:53:39 UTC

Chapter 1

Content Warning

~o/Fallout Equestria: Spiral\o~

By Changeling X

The name is Bitter Hops.

If you are wondering why I am called that, you would have to ask my mother, Single Malt, who had the forethought to name her little colt something that oddly enough would end up being his calling. How she knew what to call me, I will never understand.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My dad, whom I do not remember, was a technician and repairman and altogether do-gooder at the Stable.

Long story short, he died. Messily.

It happens, or so they told my mom and I. Something about the dangers of the solid waste disposal engines, a talisman and inappropriate use of magic on my dad's part.

Oh, didn't I mention it? He was a unicorn. But I didn't inherit the horn. Mom wasn't a unicorn either, nor a pegasus, although she swore that her great, great, great-something had been one and given that none of the generations that followed produced a single feather, I am inclined to disagree.

Tough luck for me, given what was going to happen. Wings are useful if you jump out of a building.

So, my life at the Stable was fatherless and my mom, doing justice to her name, made the best damned whiskey you could EVER taste in that place. I know because I stole a couple of bottles when I was younger and... okay, I stole a lot of them, but don't think I'm an alcoholic.

I like to drink the good stuff. A lot. So, I do. But only the good stuff.

Anyway, my mom never touched the stuff she made after dad was recycled. Don't know exactly why, but another colt once told me my dad had been drinking when he had misused his magic.

That colt and I never spoke to each other again and I was suspended from school for a whole week, but still returned two weeks before he did.

School was boring. I'll say it now. It was designed more for the unicorns in the Stable than for earth ponies like me. We learned a bit of Geography, and why Princess Celestia was so pretty and Princess Luna so sexy.

The last two we learned by ourselves, by the way.

They had pictures of the pretty princesses in the books and well, we were young and had wild imaginations. Typical colts and fillies for my Stable.

I've met some ponies from other Stables that would call us perverts... and then I've met others that make me blush. Not that many, but there are some crazy Stables out there.

One thing I can say about the school is that the sports section was pretty decent as well. It had around four teams of both colt and filly hockey players of varying ages and it was fun as hay to play. It had sports for pegasi (nopony played those) and sports for unicorns (I tried playing, turns out you really need magic) but the hockey was so popular that the scheduled games were always packed.

There were bets going on and if you were in the wrong area of the Stable with the wrong colors... well, it was a touchy subject.

Besides that the only class I enjoyed was baking, and as fate would have it, as I was reading a book on yeast... you know, the stuff you use for bread... I hit a reference to brewing. Turns out there's a lot of things you can use to brew and soon, reading on those and learning that there are such things as hops which you use to brew beer, I was experimenting with all sorts of drinks. But the beer... the beer is what I excelled at.

So I made my first brew and took it with me to one of the several parties my friends from the hockey team had organized and when we tasted the beer... bam! Cutie Mark! A Hop pod. I was so proud I ran up to my mom to tell her the story and I got grounded for drinking at my age and even worse, giving beer to my friends.

The years passed and I did well in sports and cooking, not so well in other classes.

Since I'm a big pony, I tried to get a job in security after graduation. Got kicked out soon after. Not because I wasn't good at it but- okay, it was because I was crap at it.

Seriously. Idiot robs a store... and we're supposed to detain them nicely? Ha! What a joke. No wonder we got our asses handed back to us.

I'm by no means a violent pony... or I wasn't, other than in hockey, but I also wasn't stupid. Anypony that broke the law knew that they could kick security flank around.

They had rules and regulations for absolutely everything. You couldn't say 'stop!' without filling out a form. Much less throw a baton at somepony's head. The paperwork for that one was so long that I simply quit and didn't even finish it.

You can call it laziness, I call it what it is: better use of my time.

My next job was at a bakery. Got kicked out shortly after trying to date the owner's daughter.

My next job was at a repair shop. Got a nice upgrade to my PipBuck! But guess what? My hooves are not designed for computers and such. So, I had to go. It was a shame though, because I honestly had fun and learned a bit, but it was not to be.

I went back to baking. For the other bakery, and it was awesome. I was born to bake! Cakes, bread, cupcakes, muffins, brownies, you name it, I bake it. I learned a bit of cooking as well, but I wasn't half as good if there wasn't an oven at hoof. I offered the owner to make our own brand of brew for the bakery to sell and he agreed... and it was as if the world was in my hooves.

Anyway, the beer and the bread sold well and soon I had more responsibilities. It was ironic, in a way, that the day of my greatest achievement was the day that shit got real.

~o/FoE\o~

I watched the door to the bakery open and in trotted who else but my bitter rival, Heavenly Flanks.

Okay, that's not really her name but it should be.

It really should be.

Her actual name is Black Quill and by Celestia she has a beautiful flank. But a sour personality. She is what a mare should be, nice flank (have I mentioned that?), black mane with purple highlights, stunning green eyes. Those eyes... I had seen her laughing with her friends once and they stole my heart. It was as if there was nothing in the Stable but those green eyes of hers, merry and so compassionate. Until she looked my way, of course, and then they were as hard as jade.

Her coat is a dark, tanned brown, and her horn is slightly more pointy than the average mare. Just like my mother, her parents had been struck by Celestia-granted providence and named her aptly enough, given that the cutie mark that decorated that flank of hers was, yes, a black quill with inlaid golden decorations, crossed with a black feather. She was the daughter of Molten Compass, the owner of the bakery across the street. And she hated my guts. But her fillyfriends loved my beer.

“I want two six-packs, Bitter, and no chatting,” she practically growled at me.

“Sure!” I said, walking to the back and picking one six pack before going back and picking another. “Hey, guess what? I got a promotion!”

“Didn't I say no chatting?” Quill snorted. “I really don't care, Bitter. Just sell me the beer so I can get the hay out of here.”

“Touchy...” I muttered, but her glare was enough to make me shut up and process the payment.

I'll be straight with you, my imaginary listener, I am no slouch when it comes to a fight. I kick flank. But there is something about certain mares giving you the look. If you're a stallion you know what I'm talking about. It's not their size. It's their everything that cows you as if you were a little colt caught while stealing a cookie.

I will never understand it, but what I do understand from later talks with other hardened warriors is that it is not a phenomenon limited to myself. Just about all stallions get that. Well... except Candy Stripes, I think, but that guy is bad news.

“Here you go, thank you for shopping at–”

“Spare me, Bitter,” she muttered, her horn glowing as she levitated both six-packs. She turned away without a word of thanks and trotted out. I think she would have galloped had decorum not demanded a certain amount of, well, decorum.

In case you are wondering, no, I am not particularly smart, but the education system in my Stable was top-notch. We had very brainy ponies teaching very brainy ponies. Legend has it that most of the residents that came into the Stable when the bombs fell were ex-students of Celestia's School for gifted unicorns that had been moved out of Canterlot into a more secure location.

I think that's BS, but well, it could be true, I guess. Education-wise I cannot complain even if we tend to talk like pompous dicks at times. And from what I learned from history books we pretty much behaved like students anyway. Plenty of drinks, parties, studying, sex... it was a miracle that we hadn't ended up flooding the place a couple of times, with how often repairponies got drunk, but, somehow it worked.

I am of average intelligence but my vocabulary is a result of constant drilling and insistence on nuances that are really not that important in the grand scheme of things.

Especially for a baker. Who, I ask you, wants to establish dialogue with a baker that talks like he's smarter than you? Answer? Nopony. Because, hey, I'm a baker, not a scientist! The only reason I know how to do simple calculus was because I was forced to study up to that level before I found my calling: beer. Or the making of, rather. I have, since, happily forgotten just about everything past simple math.

I did discover something though. You know how your teachers constantly tell you that they are teaching you life skills that will serve you well in the future? It's BS. With all due respect to whatever remains of the buffalo. The Wasteland has as much use for Calculus as I have for malignant cancer.

But, back to that flank.

I almost cringed when the door slammed behind Black Quill, but that was how our conversations usually went. Me trying to chat her up, her ignoring me, getting what she wanted, intimidating me and practically galloping out of the shop.

I sighed and looked down at the computer terminal. Her Pipbuck ID was still there I could- no. I sighed again and completed the transaction before punching the keys that erased her ID.

Yeah, Pipbucks can let you locate whoever you want, if you really want to. Or at least the ones from Engineering can. Like mine. But there was more you could do if you had a channel open from a transaction.

Stealing bits was one use, the other use, which I had been tempted to do in more than one occasion, was to have access to tap into her Pipbuck and listen in to conversations. The shit that is not technically going to get you arrested (the paperwork is a bitch) but will guarantee true hatred for the rest of your days if caught.

Was it worth it? No. It wasn't. That filly might not have liked me, but I was damned to Tartarus and back if I was going to be a douche about being rejected and take advantage of stuff like that. It's not that I'm a paragon of morality, you understand, but let's just say that everypony deserves better than that crap.

Anyway, soon after none other than Black Quill's best friend, Smoking Hot, walked in. I'm not joking, that was her name. She had a bright red ember and some flames and smoke as her cutie mark. She was cute, but she had a big gap in her front teeth that made her whistle a bit when she talked. She was also extremely nice and I will break the legs of whoever dares laugh at her.

“Hey, Hops!” She said, smiling at me with those slightly parted pearly whites. “Guess what? We're having a party tonight at my place! How about you join us?”

I smiled, I would love to go but... “Won't Quill be there? You know she doesn't like me much.”

She gave me an amused look. “Sure she doesn't. And yes, she will, be there but don't worry it's a big one! Chances are you two won't see each other at all unless you decide to look for one another.”

I chuckled. “Sure, why not? At what time?”

“In a couple of hours, just drop by as soon as you close shop, okay?” she said, turning around and trotting out the door.

“Will do!” I called after her.

Things went well after that. I was happy and perky and looking forward to accidentally seeing Black Quill. I know, I sound like a stalker but... well, I just wanted to talk to her. I was kicked out by her dad when I asked her out and then I did the jerk thing of blaming her for it. Go me.

I had tried to apologize, but really, I don't blame her. She deserved better from me. Shaking my head at the dark thoughts I surreptitiously took a sip of whiskey. Mama's brand. The best.

~o/FoE\o~

The party was already in full swing by the time I stopped by with four saddlebags full of beer bottles. Several ponies had left their rooms open and there was a constant flow of visitors going from room to room, hanging out in the corridor or even lying down and chatting.

I was an instant sensation. Never attend a party without bringing drinks.

Soon enough I was divested of my charges and, beer in hoof, was walking among the guests, bumping hooves with some of them and even glaring at old hockey rivals. All in good fun, of course.

After looking around I finally saw her. She was amiably chatting with another stallion. That wouldn't do.

I took a step towards her and the whole place shook.

I stopped. What the hay?

Another quake. Slowly the music died and the ponies in the party looked at each other nervously. A muffled bang, followed by a third quake. It was then that we realized it wasn't just an earthquake.

The alarms suddenly blared all around us and the whole Stable lit up, bright as day.

“What the hay is happening?!” somepony shouted.

“They must have finally filled out the paper forms for turning on the sirens!”

“They need to fill out a form for that?!”

“No you idiot, they turn them on and then fill the form!”

It was then that I noticed the screams and sound of gunfire. My brief attempt at joining security had familiarized me with the weapons I would never get to use. And guns sounded like that. At least in the videos.

PLEASE PROCEED TO THE CLOSEST SECURE AREA. An automated voice spoke up, repeating it's monotone message over and over.

“What's that?! Where is it?” A unicorn mare asked, looking around at all of us.

A little buzz made me look down at my PipBuck where a little map indicating where I should go appeared. Oddly enough it was the stadium.

“Everypony!” I shouted, raising my voice as much as I could. “We should all go to the Apple Stadium! It's the closest secure area!”

“But I'm a Sweetkicker fan!”

“Shut up and move!” another pony shouted.

Thus the migration started. It was pathetic, really. But book smarts doesn't equal common sense. And our life-style was so care-free that it was a wonder anyone even felt anxious... until the head of the unicorn next to me exploded in a splash of blood.

The whole group collapsed into panic, ponies were pushing each other and trying to escape by whatever means possible. Another crack and another pony was at my hooves, bleeding to death. Keeping my head down, I pushed my way through the panicking ponies, stealing a glance behind to see a group of gritty and violent-looking ponies in some sort of armor making their way through the halls and shooting down whoever was in front of them.

More bullets and shouts. I stumbled and fell, looking back to see that I had tripped on one of Quill's friends. She was not breathing and half her head was–

I looked away and stood up, bumping head first into Black Quill's chest. She staggered back and looked at me fearfully. “Where's Smoking?”

I shook my head. “Gone! Come on! We need to get out of here too!”

Her eyes teared up. “But... she–”

Another bullet flew through the air and clipped her left ear.

“Remember to leave some alive!” a voice I didn't recognize shouted. “We can make good money out of them!”

Gritting my teeth, I turned to look at Quill. “Quill, you need to run... try and get to the secure area, I'll distract them.”

She looked at me for a moment before turning tail and running away.

I did not know whether to feel hurt or not. She was just scared, right?

Shaking my head, I stepped around one of the doors connecting the rooms and looked around. My eyes quickly settled on a hockey stick lying on the floor and I picked it up with my mouth.

I pressed myself against the wall and waited. I heard them chuckle, I heard them pick up something and the unmistakable sound of a bottle being opened.

“Damn, this is good beer!”

I gritted my teeth. Somehow them sampling my beer made me feel... dirty. I know, it's stupid, but things were spiraling out of control very quickly and I latched to whatever could feed my anger.

I heard somepony stepping towards the door I was hiding behind. I tried to steady my breath.

Another step.

I braced myself.

When he stepped into the room, I closed my eyes and swung with all my might. There was a clang, and my mouth stung with how hard I had swung the hockey stick, it cracked and splintered.

I opened my eyes and looked straight into the golden eye of a griffon who was bigger than I. He was wearing a black and yellow armor, which had absorbed all the damage from my swing. His one visible eye narrowed, the other hidden behind an eyepatch. He did not seem amused.

I heard the ponies behind him chuckle in amusement and the sound of weapons cocking. I was dead.

Suddenly the griffon grabbed me by the throat and picked me up. I tried to struggle... I couldn't breath!

“Hold him a little to the side, boss!” a crazy mare shouted, levitating a shotgun. “I'll blow his head off!”

“Didn't I tell you not to kill everypony?” the griffon growled. He looked at me with a raised brow. “He is strong. He'll make a good slave.”

I tried to spit in his face. Or maybe it was just drool splashing around as I desperately tried to breathe. Either way, he grimaced. The last thing I saw in the Stable was his claw curling up into a fist and flying towards me.

~o/FoE\o~

When I woke up my head hurt. A lot. And the side of my face felt as if a puck had smashed into it. I was lying on a cold, small cage, along with three other ponies.

I shook my head, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. There was smoke coming from a hole on the side of what I knew was a mountain. Several ponies in dirty rags or armor were going in and out, dragging boxes, equipment, and ponies out. “Your Talon was very helpful in reigning them in.”

The griffon snorted. “If you could control your slavers we wouldn't need to put griffons in charge of every single group.” he shook his head, taking some sort of scroll from the pony. “But the contract is complete and we have been paid. I'll take this guy,” he motioned at me and the other two ponies with me. “Is a gift for my son. He'll be staying with Stern's Talon for a while and I thought he could use some ponies for profit.”

The pony chuckled. “Ah, well, I see you chose well, those three appear pretty strong! Well, good luck to your son, Woden, I have to go back and finish cleaning up this place. Maybe I'll find some useful things to sell to Stripes or Red Eye.”

The griffon, Woden, shrugged and turned. “Do as you will, I'll be on my way.”

And just like that, he nudged the double-headed creature to walk. I saw several other griffons take off from several places around the mountain and soon we were on our way, wherever we were going.

~o/FoE\o~

Although history had taught that the land outside the Stable was nothing but a devastated pit, I had never truly understood what that really meant until I got a really good look at everything around me. It was awful. Wherever brittle, gray grass grew, it was surrounded by nothing more than dirt. The clouds rolled over us, but never faded, like the vids would show. I couldn't see any rivers, or any towns.

I could barely comprehend what was happening, I leaned against a corner in my cage and found comfort in the bars keeping the world controlled and tight around me. I had no thought for escape.

It was too much.

There was no twilight, other than a slow darkening of the world and the fact that the griffons landed and started a fire. Some bread, probably loot, was thrown into the cage.

None of us ate.

“Hey!” a griffon growled, banging the bars with his gun. He glared at us. “Eat up, slaves, we don't want you to be too weak when we arrive in Fillydelphia.”

He glared at us some more and then turned around in a huff.

I stared for the longest time at that piece of bread. The griffons chose guard duty and soon whoever wasn't on watch was asleep.

I don't know when I passed out, but I woke up again when the cage lurched. My stomach growled and I finally relented, dragging the piece of bread towards me before throwing it into my mouth. I chewed it and swallowed. It was barely enough to feed me and I eyed the other two pieces hungrily before forcing myself to think of other things.

Where were my mom and Quill now? I gritted my teeth and banged my hoof on the floor of the cage, denting it slightly. If I had only been stronger!

“Hey, we have a live one here!” a griffon chuckled, glancing at me. “It seems you'll do well in the Pit, kid!”

“The Pit?” I asked.

“Yeah, that's where you probably will end up, if Tor is using you for that,” the griffon remarked. “I'd be surprised if he didn't, you're pretty big for a pony, and you seem to be in good shape. Don't you think you'll have a long career?”

“All I want to do is get out of here and find my family and friends,” I grumbled.

The griffon laughed. “Tell you what, if you challenged Specter for your freedom I'm sure he'll let you go if you win in a fight... but if you don't, well, you'll be his pet forever.”

His eyes bore into mine. “Think about it, won't you? I could use the entertainment.” He chuckled as he took flight, letting me drift back into my mind. A challenge? I looked down at the indentation I had made with my hoof. I could... maybe... it beat being a slave, right? What did he have to lose anyway?

The day passed much like the previous one. All three of us simply staring morosely at the landscape. It eventually changed into the remains of a city, with skeletal buildings reaching into the sky like the skeletal claws of a dead griffon. Neither of my partners had eaten anything and so, feeling a bit guilty, but too hungry to care, I stole the bread in front of one of them.

Our little caravan waded into the ruins and followed a trail until we reached several other groups, who were waiting in line to get through the massive gates of a well protected area.

“Hey!” I called, once I saw the griffon from earlier land. “Where the hay are we?”

“Fillydelphia,” he replied. “Your final destination. You'll meet Tor here and he'll decide your fate.”

We were dragged through the gates and barely stopped by the guards, who talked with Woden briefly before letting the lot of us through. I took my first look at Fillydelphia and had to admit, I hated the place.

It stank. Ponies were being dragged out of large wagons, chained together and examined roughly by guards that were more vicious than probably necessary. They were lined up and hosed down, then they were marched further into the camp.

Blaring speakers constantly played messages by an unknown speaker. “We stand on the threshold of a new dawn. With every factory we recover, every mill we rebuild, we move one big step forward towards an Equestria where our children can live in the safety and comfort of modern cities, not grovel in the dilapidated ruins of the past. With the stone and glass and steel forged by these, we can rebuild the homes and towers and lanes of mass transportation that will bestow freedom and prosperity upon generations to come! This, my children, is the very last generation that needs to cringe in caves and scramble for two-hundred-year-old scraps of food.”

I had to give it to him, whoever he was, he sounded very convincing.

We went past the slave area to an encampment consisting mostly of griffons. Passing several tents until we didn't stop until we arrived to an area that had a matching black and yellow motif similar to Woden's armor.

“Tor!” Woden roared.

A tent opened and a griffon, roughly my size walked out of the biggest tent. He wore a similar armor to Woden's, with wicked-looking blades on his wings. He had a mace studded with gems all along the handle strapped to a harness, letting it rest against his hind leg.

“Father!” He smiled. “You are back! How was the mission?”

“As expected,” Woden grumbled. “No challenge at all. It was the worst defended Stable I've had the misfortune of attacking. The overmare killed herself the moment she saw us breach the gates. Didn't even give orders to her underlings.”

So that's what had happened. I didn't even know the name of the Overmare, she had kept to herself and only few ponies ever talked to her. I definitely wasn't going to miss her.

“So, what is this, then?” Tor asked, prowling outside our cage.

“A present,” Woden stated, walking up to stand next to his son. “These are the only ones that actually put up a fight, if you can believe it.”

I couldn't believe it. Only us three? Out of a couple of hundred ponies?

“Only three?” Tor asked, eyes wide.

“Well,” Woden cleared his throat. “The only three that fought and survived.”

Oh well, that made things better. Not.

“So...” Tor sighed. “If you're bringing me these ponies, it means I'm staying at the camp and you're moving on, isn't it?”

“Soon,” Woden nodded. “There is little for us here, but it is the best place for you to hone your skills for now.”

Tor snorted.

I liked my lips, glancing at the griffon that had talked to me earlier. He noticed me looking and nodded slowly.

“H-hey!” I rasped out, my throat suddenly dry.

Both griffons stopped and looked at me with mild interest.

“How about I kick your flank, Tor, and you let me go?”

Woden blinked. Then started laughing.

“Very well,” Tor said, narrowing his eyes. “But when I win, you will pay for your insolence.”

Woden, still chuckling nodded with his head and soon a griffon was opening the gate and dragging me out.

I stretched my sore limbs and glared at Tor, who waited for me with a peculiar look in his face. “Do you require any weapons?” he asked.

I nodded. “I just need a blunt weapon and you'll regret hatching.”

A pair of griffin brought a rack with several blunt weapons. Choosing a quarterstaff, I turned and faced Tor.

It wasn't a hockey stick... but it would do. I narrowed my eyes as he crouched.

All I needed to do was–

I barely saw him move. I tried bringing down the quarterstaff to hit him in the head, but he was too fast for me. Before I knew it I felt my jaw crack up and my teeth bite into the wood and splinters dig into my gums as I received the fastest and hardest uppercut I had felt besides Woden's own punch.

I staggered back, dropping the staff to the floor and spitting blood. I shook my head, but Tor was relentless, spinning around me his elbow connected with the back of my head.

I bent down, but he somehow managed to slide his foreleg around the front of my neck. I felt him slide over me and drag me down with his momentum. My body slammed on the hard floor and I wheezed out as the air was forced out of my lungs.

Tor grabbed my mane and forced my head up just enough so I could look at his face as he grinned and slammed my head onto the floor.

I saw stars.

I felt him raise my head once more, then the air shift as it was brought down again. The world spiraled out of control.

I knew no more.

~o/FoE\o~

I woke up later to yet another headache and strapped, face down, to a table.

A unicorn mare with a light gray coat gave me a look as her horn slowly stopped glowing. “That was pretty stupid. Tor is not somepony you can simply fight with no experience.”

“Well... I had to try...” I croaked. At least I couldn't feel the splinters in my mouth anymore. Had she taken care of it.

She hesitated as she turned to leave. “I- would you like me to cast a small anesthetic spell?”

“I think I'll be okay,” I replied. “The headache should be gone soon...”

“That's not–”

“You heard him,” Tor interrupted, making both of us jump. Well, her, I was strapped to a table. He smirked.“Our brave gladiator doesn't need anything else. You are good to go.”

She bit her lip and looked at me with a pitying expression. “I'm sorry.”

She left before I could ask her what she meant by that.

Tor made sure the entrance to the tent was secured before he started circling me. I strained to see him whenever he was out of sight, but I couldn't move at all. These straps were pretty strong.

I felt one of his claws trace my back. “That was pathetic, pony. I can see you have strength but you are slow and you have no instinct for combat.”

“Did I have a choice?”

“Before you spoke? Yes,” Tor grinned. “I was simply going to send you to the slave camp, like the other two. But you challenged me and showed that if anything, you have courage.”

I gritted my teeth. “Well, thanks.”

His claw traced a route down my back to the base of my tail. He rested his pointy claw just over it. I started to feel very tense. Was he going to rip it out?

“However... you challenged me for your freedom. If you won I would let you go free... but if you lost, you were going to suffer my wrath, am I correct?”

I gulped. What did he have in mind?

His claw suddenly grabbed the base of my tail and pulled it up. I barely managed to suppress a startled yelp.

“I think,” he mused aloud as he climbed on top of the table behind me. “That I need to teach you who owns you... body, mind and soul...”

“Wai–” I started to yell, but he forced a piece of cloth deep into my mouth. It tasted bitter and horrible and it stank. But my thoughts on it were ripped away when he started.

My body tensed as I felt him touch me and probe. I shook my head, trying to dislodge myself from the straps, but they held fast. He took his time and played around, and by Celestia every touch sent fire through my nerves and my mind rebelled at what was happening.

And then he bit my shoulder, growling and I knew what was coming.

I screamed through the gag. I screamed and screamed in pain and shame and horror. I screamed as hope died with each thrust and my sense of self was shattered over and over. I screamed at how my body reacted. I screamed muffled curses and cried until I couldn't take a breath without snot climbing up my nose.

Eventually I just slumped down. Hating him and myself and the Overmare and that bitch, Black Quill.

He didn't stop. And as my mind drifted into limbo, my body reacted once again.

And I could only hate myself even more.

~o/End Chapter 1\o~

Footnote:

Level up!

Lil’Leaguer (Rank 1): Years as the Stable little hockey league MVP have honed your hitting and throwing. With every rank, you gain 5 points of Melee Weapons skill and 5 points of Explosives skill.

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for reading! My thanks also go to Kkat for creating the FoE setting (And the very first FoE epic!) and Somber for Horizons and so many others for expanding it! They, along with a few other authors are true inspirations.

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and that you'll feel like leaving your thoughts on it. Don't be shy, I can take the good and the bad! But I like the good better, tbh.

Chapter 2

~o/Fallout Equestria: Spiral\o~
By Changeling X

I used to think there was nothing more pathetic than a sobbing, full grown stallion. I still felt the same way, even if I was in that particular situation.

This was beyond my comprehension. My world was torn apart, not to mention my body. My whole life felt like a dream up to when I had woken up from Woden's punch. Then the cruel reality of what was really out there had shocked me so much that I had, for the most part, not understood what was really happening.

From getting drunk at a party to a slave caravan. It felt like a joke. But it wasn't and I hadn't even tried to escape. I had just laid there waiting for things to sort themselves out, wishing I was dating Black Quill or that I were back at the bakery making bread and brewing beer. I'm such an idiot.

If that wasn't the bucket of ice water that woke me up from my cozy corner of the imaginary world of ponies where everything is friendship, magic and beer, and getting owned in that fight with Tor didn't give me a hint, what he did later certainly did.

My butt hurt. A lot. I think it might have been bleeding a bit. My withers bore the marks of his claws which had dug into my flesh during his climax; my right shoulder stung from when he had bit down with his beak.

I had finally managed to push out the dirty cloth out of my mouth just before he climaxed inside me for the last time and to my shame I had not yelled at him or screamed in anger. I had bit down and pushed back. I had taken him deeper, without thought, and had cried out when I came too.

Tor had finally gotten tired and left as I lay in a pool of my own shame. My body felt alien to me. Unreal. Oh, the pain was there, reminding me that it was indeed my own, despite my horror and repulsion. I had been raped. Repeatedly. And by the end of it, I had, in essence, asked for more.

Tor had, as an act of mercy, released the straps on the bed and I just curled into a ball of self-loathing. I did not want to touch my own coat. I did not want to smell Tor's scent on myself. I did not want to breathe at all.

Thoughts and questions and recriminations plagued my mind. Why had I reacted that way? What the hay was wrong with me? It was one thing to date another colt and have fun, but another altogether to be raped and enjoy it. My body shook as the thought of what had happened really bore into my brain and exploded in all its glory.

I had been raped! I had never even looked at a colt that way, much less a giant cat-turkey! My mind was a mess but even in that state, the fact that I was making a joke was disturbing. I started smashing my head against the hard surface of the bed.

“Oh, my!” A voice interrupted me.

I looked up, snotty and red-eyed to stare at the unicorn mare from earlier. “You knew,” my voice was barely a whisper. It made me remember the taste of the rag. Ugh.

The mare looked away for a moment before her attention went back to me. Her horn glowed softly and a sponge, dripping with warm water, started cleaning my coat.

I remained silent as she cleaned me. I had to bite down a cry of pain when she cleaned my rear end. She changed sponges and, after asking me to step down, proceeded to clean up the rest of my body. She didn't say anything about the bodily fluids, thankfully.

“I knew,” she said after she was mostly done. “I was ordered not to warn you. I don't know what Tor would have done if I had-” she hesitated, before stammering the rest, “i-if I had spoiled his fun.”

I didn't answer.

What could I say?

I wanted to hate her, but I had spent all my hate on myself and just about everypony else I could think of already. And I couldn't blame her. Especially when she put the sponge down and the soft glow of her horn slowly took away the physical pain.

“What's your name?” I asked instead, somehow aware that my life was simply not my own anymore with that stupidly simple question. I was avoiding the issue.

“Treasured Clasp,” she replied, not looking at me.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I whispered. “I just wish I couldn't remember.”

~o/FoE\o~

When I woke up, it was to the sight of Tor, in full gear glaring at me.

I was up and cowering in less time than you can say: gah! Something nagged the back of my mind. I felt utter shame and hatred towards Tor... but I had only lost the fight to him. Although I guess it was worse than I thought it would be if I was waking up from a punch the next day.

“Come with me,” he ordered, motioning with his head to the exit. “We're going down to the doctor's 'clinic'. We need to get you a weapon and some armor.”

I didn't look at him. I hung my head low and numbly stepped towards the exit. Just as I was walking right next to him, Tor grabbed my mane and slammed my face to the floor. I spat blood and tried to shake free, but he just pressed harder.

“This won't do,” Tor whispered in my ear. “Was last night too much for you? Aren't you made of sterner stuff? Are you worth anything at all?”

I tried to push my head up, but he wouldn't let me.

“Maybe you liked it?”

What was he talking about?!

His breath was hot against my ear. “You want to moan like a bitch while I mount you? That's it, isn't it? You liked it and you want more...”

I wrestled my head up, anger and shame boiling in me and giving me more strength than I thought I had. My hoof smashed on the side of his beak and his head snapped to the side.

I stood up, snorting in anger, glaring at him and ready to attack him once more, when he started laughing. He looked back at me and his beak parted in a smile. “That's more like it!”

I never saw the punch coming, but it just shook me. He wasn't aiming to knock me out this time. Tor stood up and faced me, eyes glinting and smile widening. “Just don't forget who owns you, pony.”

“Nopony owns me!” I growled and found a gun pressing against my nose.

“No pony, true,” Tor chuckled. “Just this griffon. Now, move!”

Incensed and still angry, I considered trying to escape then and there, but... I was afraid. Grimacing I did the only thing my fear would allow and I glowered at him the whole way to the clinic. There was something about Tor that I hated more than I could understand.

It was confusing... when playing hockey, I had been knocked out before by other players, but even at it's worst, with a broken bone and having to stay in bed for a couple of days, I had never felt such an unexplained anger and resentment towards another being.

The one thing I was absolutely sure about by then was that I really was a pathetic excuse for a stallion.

I knew I should be more upset about all that had happened; about the ponies that had died in the Stable... about my mother being taken away by slavers or Black Quill running away on me. But... somehow I felt detached. I knew I cared, but something had scarred me beyond that and I- I couldn't remember what it was. I just knew something had happened.

Unlike the day before, I did pay attention to my surroundings this time. The encampment bearing Woden's colors was small in comparison to other groups of griffons, or Talons as I would later learn they were called.

The reason was that Woden wasn't very big on hiring other griffons if he lost one of his own. It was loyalty transferred from parent to son or daughter; it was tradition, not a gathering of convenience. On my way I heard more of Red Eye's speeches, being broadcast by several radios and speakers around the area. I saw with my own eyes what it really meant to be a slave.

For all he promised his followers and those that were forced to listen that he was just as shackled by responsibility as they were by their slavers with real chains, I very much doubted he looked malnourished, smelled like drainage and made you want to scratch imaginary itches just by looking at him.

My fate had been different. I didn't count myself lucky, but looking at the slaves and how some of the slavers looked at mares and stallions- I realized that I hadn't necessarily drawn the short end of the straw, even if it was close.

To my shame I would later realize that I was looking at the silver lining... and the silver lining was that I got to get showers, be healed, eat better and from what I had gathered from Tor, I was going to get trained for combat of some sort.

In exchange for humiliation, self-hatred, insecurity, questioning my stallionhood, being Tor's bitch and the object of pity from the local nurse. I snorted and stopped for a second in confusion.

“Move!” Tor snapped, taking a swipe at me. I shook my head and followed once more, my thought's drifting.

I frowned. Where had those thoughts come from? Nurse? I shook my head. This was confusing. Why did I feel less of a stallion when facing Tor? Why did I have an instinct to cringe when he looked at me in a certain way?

I was having a really hard time deciding how I could be better off and yet not. My mind took me back to happier times in the Stable. I had had my share of mares. I was intimidating when I wanted to, although thankfully I was never a bully. I was respected by most, not by the mare I wanted, but by most...

I felt my eyes watering and I wrenched my thoughts back to the present. That wasn't even nostalgia. I was wallowing in self-pity; moaning into my mind how I wanted things to go back to when everything was right and the world was enclosed in walls and a ceiling.

Thankfully, we arrived at the 'doc's clinic' before I lost myself in misery. I looked at the ramshackle building in front of me in confusion. This was a doctor's office? It was little more than a shack and there were more mechanical things strewn over than actual medical equipment.

A sign, rusted and dirty, announced in letters that had been pieced together from other signs, that this was 'Dr. Attic Lock's Mechanical Emporium.”

“Why are we here again?” I asked, forgetting, in my incredulity, that Tor was somepony I did not want to talk to.

“To get you outfitted for battle!” Tor laughed, smacking my back as if he were my bbff. It really made me want to kill him even more. And then jump up and down on his dead body until it was a pulp, then grow a horn, revive him with my suddenly gained magic, kill him and repeat the process.

He guided me in inside, but my dark thoughts still plagued my mind and as I lowered my head and grumbled inaudibly, I accidentally ran into an earth pony that was actually bigger than I was. A solid mass of muscle with a freaking anvil for a cutie mark. I did not want to be on his bad side, but I was already on my way to be pulped! My lack of attention had caused a box he was balancing on his head to tilt dangerously. I hit the floor as I lost balance and stared in horror.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I could only watch as the box tilted further, and worse, glass bottles filled with some sort of red-black liquid started to slide out!

A soft red aura suddenly enveloped the falling box and levitated it off of the stallion's head, and just in time! Having felt the box shift he had overcompensated and had he tried to rectify the situation unaided, the box would have smashed into pieces.

“Careful there!” the unicorn said amiably, even if there was a hint of annoyance in his voice. “That is very, very hard to get!” he chided.

“Sorry, Candy Stripes!” the large stallion apologized immediately, and I heard Tor take in a sharp breath.

I cringed. “No, please forgive me, both of you, if I had been paying attention this wouldn't have happened.” I said, looking down.

“Well, pay attention next time!” a feminine voice chided. I looked up to see... surprise, surprise! A pegasus! An actual pegasus! And she was cute too! Her cutie mark was a brown leaf in the middle of a cross hair.

She looked dangerous though. And it wasn't the fact that her cutie mark was sniper-appropriate.

She had an air about her that just screamed 'I'll kill you and laugh while doing it!' She stopped and looked at me with scorn, before her eyes turned to Tor and narrowed.

Tor held her gaze for a moment before snorting and looking away.

“Come Autumn Scope,” the Candy Stripes spoke up. “We have things to do, and I'm sure these gentlepony and griffon have also business to attend.”

She smirked. “Sure thing,” she nuzzled him. “Let's get going. I have some ideas I wish to try with you,” she added seductively. I liked her. She could kill me, but she would do it in a sexy way and I was okay with that.

Candy Stripes chuckled, putting the box down on a counter. “There. Doc, make sure you use it wisely!”

“Here, let me help you up, little guy,” the gray coated stallion I had stumbled onto earlier lifted me up and put me on all four hoofs, dusting me slightly before nodding. “Hope you didn't hurt yerself.”

“I- no, I'm fine. Thank you,” I muttered grimacing with embarrassment.

He nodded and walked out after Autumn Scope and Candy Stripes.

“Now, how can I help you, Tor? How is my daughter doing?” An elder, green coated unicorn asked, levitating the box and its contents from the counter and placing them safely in the back of the store.

“My... friend here needs a blunt weapon and armor,” Tor said distractedly, keeping an eye on the group of ponies that had just left until they were lost in the crowd. Once he had lost sight of them he turned to look at Dr. Attic Lock. “He needs a practice weapon of the same type.” He frowned. “And your daughter... she's fine. She was helping out some of my father's warriors when I last saw her this morning.

“Good! That filly has a talent for healing, I swear!” The unicorn gave me an appraising look. “And what type of weapon would you like, hmm?”

“Powerhooves, if you have any,” Tor spoke up for me. I had no idea what the hay 'powerhooves' were.

Attic Lock snorted. “Powerhooves,” he stopped and tapped his chin. “Powerhooves... I- yes that could work...”

“Do you have any?” Tor asked again.

“What? Oh. Yes, I do, but I am afraid I am short on them. I can only give you two for the hind legs,” Attic Lock said. “As for a weapon...” he gave me a considering look. “This stallion might be strong enough to use it,” he mused eyeing me up and down. “He looks the type that is more effective at smashing through things, but certainly I can get him something!”

His horn flashed and a strange weapon floated up to me. It had a bit handle and a chain attached on one side to the handle, on the other to a metal ball with spikes.

“What is it?” I asked, looking at it curiously.

“A flail,” Tor replied, eyeing it critically, before nodding to Attic Lock. “And it works. I think you can learn to use it properly.”

Beaming a smile, Attic Lock placed it next to the power hooves on the counter while I looked around. I had never seen so many weapons! Even the security station in the Stable hadn't had half the amount here. Not to mention the variety.

There were wicked-looking claws that would attach to a pony's hooves, or horn extensions for unicorns to gore their enemies with. There were swords and knives and spears and maces piled all around. Why somepony would chose one of those over fire arms was a mystery to me. But I guess the fact that you wouldn't need ammunition for them was the appeal.

I stole a glance at Tor. He had that mace on him, but he also had two guns, one on each side, plus the blades on the tip of the wings. His armor looked bulky, but it couldn't possibly be that bad, since he was able to fly in it. I snorted. I had no idea what I was talking about. Armor? Hay, I had worn security barding just once. What did I know about armor? Still, something did catch my eye. A glint of metal glistening in the light from under the cover of a thick blanket.

Shrugging, I took hold of the blanket with my teeth and pulled back, revealing under it a set of armor unlike anything I had ever imagined. It was solid and polished. The whole thing would cover a pony of my size from tip of the ear to tip of the tail.

“Is that–” Tor spoke up.

“Not for sale!” Attic Lock interrupted. “At all!”

“But it's a Steel Ranger armor!” Tor exclaimed. “How did you get one? And in perfect condition?”

Attic Lock narrowed his eyes. “This armor belongs to Candy Stripes,” he said. “And as much as you imagine it to be, it isn't.” He approached the set of armor and his magic opened it. It was completely hollow inside.

“It's just the metal plates?” Tor sounded disappointed.

Attic Lock nodded as his horn covered the whole thing again with the blanket. He then put a warning tape around it and a sign that read: Do not Touch!

“Everything else is gone, yes,” Attic Lock growled. “And I would appreciate if you would stop your associate from poking around. First the samples and now the armor,” he glared at me. “Stand in the middle of the room and touch nothing!”

“Just get him a simple armor,” Tor muttered. “Something Pit-approved.”

Attic stopped and his glare faded a little, giving me a pitying look. I was getting tired of those. “I see. I'll see what I have that will fit him. He's as big as Big Macintosh!” he chuckled.

My ears perked. I could have sworn that I had heard that name before.

“But far less capable,” Tor added, glancing at me. My ears lowered and I shot him a resented look.

“Here,” Attic Lock put a dull gray and dark gray armor up on the counter next to the other purchases. “Now about payment...”

Tor grinned. “Why, you can take it yourself!” he motioned at me with his head and I suddenly dreaded what he was suggesting.

Attic Lock frowned when he looked at me, clearly not understanding what Tor was insinuating, but as he looked at me his eyes widened and a smile crept onto his face. “A PipBuck!”

“In perfect condition,” Tor added. “Just fresh from a Stable too.”

I sighed in relief, not understanding why. What had I feared Tor was insinuating?

Attic seemed to be salivating and that snapped me back to reality. I took a step back. “N-no!”

Tor growled. “You will part with it now!” he growled. “This is better than what Red Eye would do to you to get it off, believe you me!”

I looked at the doctor. “Please...”

He reared back and took a deep breath. “Listen, son,” he sighed after a moment, his horn glowing as another, sturdier-looking armor replaced the one on the counter. “I'll be fair with you and upgrade the equipment to match what the minimum market value of a PipBuck is. But you have to understand, that thing is not going to keep you alive here.” He motioned with his head towards the weapons and armor on the table. “Those are. Where you are going- your PipBuck will not stop a bullet; it won't deflect a hit or enable you to pulp your opponents. It will not protect you from radiation, or allow you to shake yourself rid of toxic goop before it eats through your body.”

With each thing he listed my world felt smaller and smaller. I could feel my heartbeat accelerate. Just what was Tor throwing me into?

“In short, kid, what you are paying for by giving me that PipBuck is your life. Because, as I look at you, I can tell: you have no idea what is waiting for you. And you are not a fighter, yet.” Attic Lock smiled a little. “Let me help you get to the point where you become one and can consider buying it back.”

I calmed down a little at that. “I can... get it back?”

“If you survive,” Attic nodded and shrugged. “And if I haven't sold it by then, but you can only do so with what I have at the counter aiding you.”

I was convinced. But I hadn't been working at the bakery for a while without learning a few bartering tricks myself. Attic Lock was a master of it, and the worst thing was that he was pretty much stating the facts in a very friendly way so I couldn't really use a 'you exaggerate' approach. I needed the armor and weapons more than I needed the PipBuck and we all knew it. My brain considered the options. It was clear that Tor was going to train me. That and some practice, plus the right weapons might allow me to kill the bastard and go free. Or win my freedom and then kill Tor. Whichever came first. I still had to figure out if I could get free. And how.

And so, I nodded, but added; “Fine, but this PipBuck has been upgraded to Engineering Level. It has all the programs and all the quirks you could get.” Up to level 2 out of about, oh, 5 or 6, but really, who was counting? “I think it's worth a bit more than your average PipBuck... so how about you add a couple of fire arms and we call it even? Just don't erase anything because I will come back for it and I want my stuff to still be there.”

Attic snorted and two small revolvers, along with holsters and a box of ammunition for each landed on top of the counter, along with the almost-forgotten hard-rubber version of the flail.

“There,” he said. “I think that's a fair deal, no?”

I could see it in his eyes. He would exchange more for my PipBuck but... “Yeah, that's enough.”

The process to take off my PipBuck was actually less harrowing than I thought it would be. Attic Lock had laughed at Tor when the griffon suggested it would take a while to take it off, muttering something about a Doctor Slaughter being a moron.

I would not trust a pony named Doctor Slaughter to even look my way. Who in their right mind would?

Apparently Red Eye, Tor and Attic informed me.

He entrusted all of his newly captured, PipBuck-wielding slaves to Slaughter's tender hooves. I added another unexpected ray of hope to the silver lining.

Soon, Attic had managed to convince my PipBuck that my leg wasn't something it wanted to be attached to and within seconds it had slid down my hoof and was floating in the grasp of Attic Lock's magic.

“And payment is procured!” He gushed. “I don't know how long I can hold on to this PipBuck,” he confessed, looking at me. “But since you asked nicely I will back-up all your files into my terminal under your name...”

“Bitter Hops,” I said, rubbing the place where my PipBuck used to be. It felt... naked. And cold. It was really weird.

The doctor chuckled, while Tor gave me an amused glance. Soon, though, Attic Lock had packed the whole purchase tightly and strapped it to my back.

“Good luck in the Pit, kid!” he called as we walked out.
After a few minutes I couldn't hold it in anymore. “What the hay is the Pit?”

Tor gave me a considering look before focusing again on our route. “It's a coliseum of sorts. Red Eye holds fights there for everyone's entertainment. Most of the time its slaves that do the fighting, but Talons and certain individuals are allowed to send fighters in for special matches between them.”

“But I can't–”

Tor didn't stop or look back, but he did interrupt me. “You will. Because what you will be facing there will kill you otherwise. Because you have an instinct to survive. Because you are as much of a coward as you are brave. And you will win and fight again. And you will become better, or your punishment from last night will be nothing to what will happen to you.”

“My... punishment? What are you talking about?”

Tor stopped this time and looked back at me with a frown. “You're joking.”

I simply shook my head. What was happening? Tor looked partly annoyed, partly pleased and completely confused. Finally he grunted and started walking again. “If anything this will make training harder,” he muttered.

I felt a growing sense of dread starting in my stomach, but, surrounded by so many armed griffons and slavers, it was not the time to do something stupid. I needed to have a good idea of what I would do.

~o/FoE\o~

Turns out my revolvers were put away by Tor, since I couldn't use them in the Pit anyway. Turns out that I would be able to only use the flail in most matches, but there were allowances for certain fights to allow me to use the powerhooves and even the guns.

I still felt all sorts of completely foreign emotions when it came to my griffon master. I hated him, but I did not know why. I was confused by him; he was a bastard one moment, amiable the next.

He watched me put my armor on with a look that made my skin crawl and my stomach flip. Why? I couldn't understand it. But after I had put it on, his look was one of firm resolve. He picked up the practice flail, grabbed a mallet of the same material and motioned for me to follow him.

We went through his tent onto the back area of Woden's camp. The tents made an impromptu on the ground. There were dark red splotches of what I was pretty sure was blood and practice weapons were strewn about; A couple of griffin, with wings tied, were circling one another on the farther side of the ring, taking swipes with their claws and deftly avoiding each other.

Tor stepped inside the ring and motioned for me to do the same across from him.

“This is called a flail,” he said, showing me the practice weapon. “It was designed by my people centuries ago. Most ponies don't have the neck strength to use it, since they have to hold it in their mouths. He started spinning the flail, showing me how it was done. “The flail is a brutal weapon and very effective if used properly. Like the hammer, it packs a tremendous punch,” he instructed. “But it also has other advantages.” Tor smirked tossing the flail to me. “Start practicing the swirling,” he ordered.

I hesitated. “How long do I have to learn this?”

Tor snorted. “The rest of the day,” he smiled a savage, shit-eating smile. “Your first fight is tonight!”

I gulped. I could feel my body start shaking. It was almost like my first few games. That was it! It was a stupid idea, but the best I could do... I would treat this as a game.

I started twirling the flail.

It was an hour or so later that Tor told me to stop. Or it felt like an hour. My teeth hurt, and my neck felt very tight and strained.

"That's enough of that," Tor said. "Twirling it around like that in combat is nothing more than showing off and unnecessary if you know the right stances."

"Then- then why did you make me do all that?!" I gasped, trying to regain my breath.

"Because you need to build neck and mouth strength," Tor rolled his eyes. "And you need to know how much you can manage.

It sort of made sense. It still made me want to hit him. More.

"Now," Tor said picking up my real flail. "Observe," he used his wings to stand on his rear legs, facing me. He slung the flail so that the chain went over his shoulder. "This is how you use a flail for an angled, downwards attack..."

I paid rapt attention as Tor lost himself in forms and how to use them. It was a different griffon that stood in front of me. One I could almost not hate.

We had to adapt the movements to fit my equine physique, but after several hours of training I was able to not hit myself or over extend and fall.

For now it was time to rest... soon I'd be facing my first fight in the Pit.

~o/End Chapter\o~

Level up!

Little Leaguer (Rank 2!): Keep swinging!