Fallout: Equestria - Silvertown

I awoke to the hum of a fluorescent light. Opening my eyes and letting them adjust to the brightness, I looked around. I was laying in what looked like a hospital bed in a small room. The door was closed. I breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in the bed, when I realized that I had no idea how I had gotten here. And perhaps more importantly, I was also missing an arm. My heart raced as the memory of what had happened came rushing back and I shot upright, breaking out into a cold sweat.

I could hear movement outside, and panicked as I saw the handle on the door turning. I tried to get out of the bed, but my legs refused to respond. The door opened, and a tall stallion wearing a gray duster entered the room.
“Woah there boy, easy now,” The stallion calmly spoke, holding his hands out in front of him. “You’ve been out cold for a week. Frankly, I’m amazed you’re even alive.”
He was an earth pony, with a dark, earthen brown cost and a rust coloured mane. He looked old and grizzled with the scars to prove it.
“Now, as I’m sure you can understand, I got a few questions,” He sat down on a chair next to the bed. “Why don’t we start with what you were doing in these parts?”

I kept my mouth shut, glaring at the stallion, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in the back of my mind asking where my squadmates were. A whole week had gone by. My arm was gone. And for all I knew, there was no way for me to ever go home.
“Cat got your tongue, eh?” The stallion leaned closer. “Maybe I wasn’t being clear enough, but the only way you’re getting out of this hospital is if you answer me.”
“I, uh…” I paused. Was I seriously going to betray the Enclave? “Recon. We’re recon.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” He grinned. “So, where’s the rest of your squad then?”
“No idea.” The stallion stared right at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Well then, can you at least tell me why the Enclave is suddenly taking an interest in this place?”
“Nope,” I sighed, “We only get told where we’re going, not why we’re going there.”
“Just a grunt, huh,” he stood up from the chair. “I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, don’t you worry.” And with that, he left the room, leaving me to be alone once again.

Time dragged on as I could do nothing but lay in bed and go over the events that had led up to this over and over again. There had to be more to it than just bad luck. It couldn’t have been just some random group of raiders. Maybe it was one of the higher ups that wanted to get rid of us. Maybe a spy had infiltrated our ranks. Or maybe I was just overthinking it.

That train of thought was interrupted when the door opened again, this time ushering the arrival of a tired looking dark gray, almost black unicorn in a lab coat. His white mane was tied back into a ponytail, and looked like it was in need of a good wash.
"Let's see here," he adjusted his glasses and looked down at his clipboard. "Sunbreeze, was it?"
"How did you-"
"Dog tags. Now listen, I don't know how or why you're alive, by all accounts you should be dead." The doctor said in an exasperated tone of voice.
"By the time we found you, you had lost an arm, your back was full of shrapnel and you were paralyzed from the waist down, not to mention all the buckshot we had to dig out of you."
Putting the clipboard down, he looked me right in the eyes. "Basically, you're fucked beyond repair through conventional means."
"And that means?"
"You either spend the rest of your days in a wheelchair or bite the bullet and go for cybernetic surgery. Unless you want us to just take you out back and shoot you, of course." He chuckled.
"So you're just gonna give me cybernetics, just like that?" I asked, my suspicion rising.
"Oh no, you'll be paying for it, but a crippled skyrat is just gonna be a drain on resources."
Well, that's one way to put it I suppose.
"So you're just doing this to earn money?" I questioned.
"I suppose so, but if it was up to me I'd have just left you to die. It was Open Range's idea to save your life." So much for the hippocratic oath.
"So how much do these cybernetics cost, exactly?"
"Oh, a few grand. Don't worry, you'll pay it off in a few weeks. Just don't try to skip out on us."
"Or what, you'll shoot me?"
"Something like that. Now, do you want the surgery or not?" the good doctor demanded.
"I'll take it." I sighed in defeat. Oh boy, indentured servitude.

Before I could react, the doctor's horn lit up and I felt the sting of a needle stabbing into my body, injecting me with something. The last thing I saw before going under was the grinning doctor.

*********************************************************

I was awoken by the now familiar hum of the fluorescent lighting, but something was different this time. I could feel a cold metal surface beneath me, and cold air all around me. I opened my eyes, blinded by the harsh light shining down on me from the ceiling. As my eyes adjusted my suspicions were confirmed. I was in an operating room, that much was clear. Still, an odd feeling lingered in my body. Evidently I wasn't alone either, as I could hear movement in the room, followed by hoofsteps and the sound of a door opening and closing. I sat up on the operating table, and looked down at my body. My torso was wrapped in bandages, and in place of my missing arm was a hunk of metal. It was a crude looking thing, sloppily painted red and with exposed wiring running along it's underside. It attached to some sort of mounting point on my shoulder, with more wires running between the two.

The room around me looked more like a workshop than a surgery, with spare cybernetic parts dangling from the roof and laying in crates. It was dimly lit, the only source of light being the one above the operating table. I swung my legs around, dangling them off the table, and dropped down onto the floor. Immediately I staggered, struggling to retain my balance. Spotting a mirror at the far end of the room, I limped towards it, slowly getting better at walking again. It was hard to make out my reflection in the dimness, but once my eyes adjusted, I was met with a grim sight.

My fur was dirty and bloodied, the once vibrant blue muted, and my crimson mane was dirty and tangled. My uniform trousers, my only article of clothing besides my holotags, were tattered and torn. The metal arm hung limp at my side. Turning around, I could see a metal ridge travelling along my spine and terminating at my neck, where a long cable was attached. My wings looked to be badly damaged, enough that I wouldn't be able to fly for at least a few weeks. Reaching up with my left hand, I grabbed the end of the cable and pulled at it. Almost immediately sparks shot through my body and colours flashed in my vision, forcing me to let go of it. Following the cable with my eyes, I saw that it connected to some sort of device attached to the operating table.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” the familiar voice of the doctor rang out. “That makes this next part a lot easier.” I turned around, watching the unicorn walk towards the operating table. He reached down and pulled the cable out from where it was attached. Bolts of pain shot through me, sending me crashing to the ground.
“WHAT THE FUCK,” I yelled, getting back to my hooves with some effort.
The doctor rolled his eyes and walked towards me.
“How’s the arm? Tried using it yet?” He grabbed hold of the metal arm, examining it. I could feel the warmth from his hands. Instinctively I pulled my hand away, eliciting a grin from the unicorn.
“Good, looks like it’s fully connected.” He tapped on the metal shell, causing my fist to clench. “It’ll take some time to get used to, but at least it’s working.” He let go of the arm, letting it hang freely.
“So, about that debt,” He pulled out a clipboard and looked down at it. “Thirty five hundred cap, give or take a few dozen.”
“Is that a lot?” I questioned.
“Yes.”
"Oh."
The doctor sighed. "Go see Open Range, I'm sure he'll have something for you." He motioned towards the door, and then went towards the operating table.

Not wanting to spend any more time in here, I made my way to the door, and after a few attempts at opening the door with my prosthetic, left the room. I found myself in a hallway, opening into an office at one end and with a door marked as the exit at the other. A few more rooms opened into the hallway, but none of them seemed particularly noteworthy. I went towards the exit, and was almost out of the door when a familiar voice called out from behind me.
“Are you really going out like that?” The stallion, Open Range I assumed, was standing behind me. I turned around and looked at him. He was wearing the same duster from earlier, now with an accompanying cowpony hat, and had a bag slung over his shoulder.
“What’s it to you?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.
“Listen, kid, you’ll just get yourself killed looking like that. Folks uh, they don’t take too kindly to pegasi, especially not ones that they ain’t never seen before.” He swung the bag around, holding it out in front of him. “You’ll need this.”
I accepted the bag, with some hesitation. It was heavy, and I could hear stuff jingling around in it.
“Go get yourself ready, I’ll be waitin’ for ya outside.” He tipped his hat and went through the exit, leaving me alone in the hallway.

I ducked into one of the side rooms, an office of some kind, and opened the bag. The first things that caught my eye were my laser rifle and the remains of my uniform shirt, along with my holotags. Discarding the shirt, I took out the rifle and let it sit on a nearby table as I inspected the other contents of the bag. It consisted of a tan cloak, worn and tattered, and a collection of plates made from scrap bits of metal along with the straps to attach them. After a whole bunch of finagling with the straps, I had finally managed to assemble some sort of rudimentary armour, with the cloak covering up my wings. While the armour left a lot to desire, it was better than nothing. At the very least, my torso had some protection. Strapping the bag to my back and slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I went back into the hallway and out through the exit.

Stepping outside, I immediately recognized the settlement as the one I had flown over a week ago. It was bustling, merchants hawking their wares between the old row houses and drifters travelling through. A few of the houses were wrecked, but the street was otherwise remarkably well preserved. Looking back at the building I’d just come out of, it looked like, well, a clinic. A sign on the outside of it proclaimed proudly that this was a ‘Silvercorp’ clinic, whatever that meant. Across the street I could see a few ponies wearing dusters similar to the one Open Range wore, conversing and occasionally glancing at me. I was about to approach them when the stallion in question called out from behind me.
“Woah there kid, you’d best keep yer distance,” he put an arm on my shoulder, turning me around to face him. “Now listen, you’re gonna have to work off that debt, and I don’t want you running off into the wastes and getting yerself all broken again.”
“Why are you so intent on helping me anyway?” I questioned, and he promptly looked away.
“I’ve seen what this wasteland does to folks like you,” he sighed. “And I don’t want to see you turning into a monster.”
“I’ll be fine, old man, don’t worry.” We both know that’s a lie. “So uh, how am I supposed to pay off this debt?”
“Suppose you’ll have to take on some bounties. Dangerous, but, well, at least ya got better training than most folks out here.” He pointed towards a large noticeboard in the center of the town, around which a group of ponies, even a few griffons, had gathered.

Approaching the noticeboard and pushing through the crowd, I discovered the source of the commotion. Smack dab in the middle of the board was a large wanted poster, proclaiming a two-thousand cap bounty for the capture of Enclave troops. It didn’t have much in the way of detail, but it was plenty obvious who the targets were. Trying to keep my cool, I took a gander at the other bounties on the board. Mercenary contracts, requests for salvage, and bounties on various raiders in the area. Most of the bounties all seemed to be on big warlords, or pre-war treasures, all probably quite far from the settlement. The one bounty that stood out was for some raider called Motor Baby. Someone with that name couldn’t be very tough, right? I took the note in my hands, taking a closer look at it. It offered a reward of four hundred caps for the killing or capture of whoever this raider was. The only other thing it mentioned was the location, 3rd Buckton Avenue, and that the target was accompanied by at least three other raiders. It seemed easy enough. I made my way back through the crowd, trying not to gain any attention and praying to Celestia that nobody realized I was a pegasus.

Breathing a sigh of relief once I was out of the crowd, I made my way back to where Open Range was standing. At the very least it would be a good idea to ask for directions.
“You got anythin’?” He asked as I approached, and I nodded and handed him the note. He chuckled. “Oh, that one. Yeah, that one’s close enough. At least, close enough to not fry your brains.” He chuckled, then caught the shocked look on my face.
“The doc didn’t tell you?” He sounded surprised. “I thought you knew about that. The doc put a killswitch in you so ya don’t just run out on the debt.”
I just glared at him.
“Listen kid, that arm of yours may just look like scrap metal, but there’s a lot of expensive technology in your body, and we’ve had enough folks try and stiff us on payment already.” He said sternly. “You’re still enclave, and for all we know you’ll just head right back to HQ and have us all killed,” he continued, more quietly.
“Well, you’d best get going then,” He waved me off, putting on a fake smile. I sighed and made my way towards the gates at the far end of the settlement. A few of the guards at the gate gave me dirty looks as I passed through, and I glared back as I ventured out into the city.

The atmosphere outside the settlement was completely different, a testament to just how much work had been done to make the place livable. Trash and debris littered the street, and the buildings all looked ruined and long abandoned. Even just a few blocks away the roads were littered with the occasional skeleton. Aside from the sporadic sounds of gunfire, it was dead silent.