Whiskey and Wine

by Slendy

Rating: mature
Tags: Original Character, Science Fiction, Profanity, Violence, Crossover, Death, Fallout, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Thriller
Length: 5535

The Wasteland is a harsh and desolate place. Mutated creatures, raiders, and slavers roam the land. So do the most absurd travelers with a spring in their step.

This is the everyday travels of a mare without much to her name other than a bottle of liquor.

One-Shot Fallout: Equestria Story. I'm going to regret posing this.... but aw well.

A/N: This is Fallout: Equestria, what did you expect from the warnings?

Published 2021-02-13 16:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-02-20 12:25:14 UTC

Little Bit of Rock

The sun was starting to rise over the barren flatlands of the Mojave Desert. The cracked tarmac stretching through a particularly unsafe part of the wasteland was home to a few Raiders keeping watch over their territory. It was merely a few old houses strapped together with rusted metal and pipe from a nearby factory. Supplying the Raiders with enough sheet metal from catwalks to forge what could resemble a trafficking outpost to barter and tax both Slavers and the occasional trader heading toward the gemstone of the broken world, Las Pegasus.

An old, dilapidated sign advertising the radiant city of Las Pegasus was fixed atop a large boulder. The beautiful artwork stained by sand, bullet holes, and blood; Now displayed very crude messages, the big, bold letters stating 'Toll Ahead' and 'Buck the NLR' welcoming those further into the dystopian world of Equestria. A small wagon was posted below the sign, three ponies inspecting their supplies, grunting over what seemed to be a lack of coin - Bottle Caps.

Passing them, a unicorn wore a rebreather across her muzzle, a pair of red-tinted goggles, and a black hardhat with a purple bandana hugging her neck. She wore a large, black overcoat with the belt undone, padded with barding. Her fur was obscured entirely by black cloth underneath, padded in armor plates, they were dented, and clear signs of taxed use showed just how little she cared for maintenance at the moment. The only sign that she was a pony at all was the bobbing, purple tail swishing to her own beat, long, messy and curved at the tips. Last were her peachy back hooves.

The thing that stood out on her belt, other than the rifle hugging her back and the pistol tucked away inside her overcoat, was the light green tint of a screen, originating from her left forehoof, a standard Stable-Tech Pip-Buck. Currently, it played a jolly song to fill her ears, even in passing the traders that took note of her approach from the ruined road, she could make out their words after dialing her music back a bit with a huff.

"-wouldn't go there, lady," The charcoal earth-pony warned, grunting as he tossed the bottle caps back onto the wagon. "If those damn Raiders see yer a mare they'll tear you apart."

"..." No words left her concealed muzzle, from her own experiences, speaking led to many... tense conversations. Talking to her had to be the most awkward and infuriating exchange of words two ponies could have - She had convinced herself that speaking with her must sound like a hostage negotiation at times, others, well... everyone carries a gun so it was pretty understandable how things panned out with a few choice words and a lack of functioning brain cells.

She stared at him blankly, head tilting toward the aforementioned outpost that she heard was taxing any crossing the safest route to Las Pegasus, something she was not looking forward to explaining later once she was done passing through. Nodding her head she gave a small wave and continued along the road, blotting out the stallion's warning as the volume of her music increased, drowning out the barren wind that sometimes trickled through the desert.

Honestly, the idea of them peeling away her armor to rut her until she was a blubbering mess was an odd concept. As far as she could think back why would anypony wish to procreate at all in the wasteland? Seemed to only provide either one or both ponies with the added issue of child maintenance, something she herself would rather avoid. Putting that line of thinking ahead, that meant the only real solution to avoiding such an undesirable fate were to simply refuse or outright hang them from the Dam with barbed wire. Whichever was easiest.

Spotting a small ridge that overlooked the outpost the mare quickly skipped up to her right, keeping low as she shuffled toward the edge to catch a better view of those impeding her journey, it was so annoying applying for such laborious tasks, but as she would say, 'If you do it yourself or nopony will'. Nodding to herself, she used her lilac magic to rip her pride and joy from her buckles.

The rifle was by far the cleanest and well looked after piece on her body. A gunmetal black coating with a few rough edges from stray shots and odd angles, a Barrett M82, something she... procured from the funny military ponies in power armor, they were nice if not a little overbearing. Wiggling her flank up the slope she adjusted the bi-pod with her magic, lining up her scope to assess the Raiders guarding the forward gateway.

One unicorn looked to be half-asleep, looking toward her general direction, unfortunately, she wasn't the kind of pony most could spot with a mere glance, let alone a sleepy one. The second had his flank turned the opposite way, his own eye looking down the sights of his own sniper rifle toward the trade's ponies, clearly to identify what they were doing or if they had loot that was more beneficial to their cause. That idea irked the mare, so much so she lost her last moment of sympathy for the slumbering stallion in her sight's glare.

In only one steady pull of her magic, the bullet flew from the muzzle with an outrageous 'BANG', a small puff of smoke following her shot as it not only struck the startled unicorn but the bullet pierced with enough velocity to shower the side of the wall in a fountain of blood, his body practically shredded from the muzzle and out his nape. There wasn't much left of his head other than shredded flesh and the odd chunk of grey matter.

Slipping into SATS, her Pip-Buck's targeting system locked to the second guard, the pony swiveling his rifle around at the sight of his ally reduced to a twitching, shredded corpse on the catwalk. The second she focused on his head, the eighty-percent statistic was pushed through, and another resounding chime of her anti-material rifle followed with a gust of red streaking backward. The sheer force swung the stallion's body onto its back, breaking the spine while the head was reduced to a stump.

Pulling herself back on all four hooves, she saw the chaos beginning to unfold from the comfort of her perch. Taking a moment to place her hooves in front of her like framing a camera to capture the moment, her eyes caught the beautiful sight of orange and gold lighting the gate ablaze with landmines she had secretly placed not long ago. She had looped back to the road to avoid suspicion and that meant she could smile at the sight of disembodied limbs falling from the sky, the chucks of pony parts and guts were strewn across the road. However, the gate was now blown wide open.

Swaying side-to-side, the mare approached the gate, seeing her Pip-Buck blare with several red dots, yelling and stomping piercing her musical high as several bullets missed her body, some ricocheting off her barding to directly impact the Raiders. One screamed in agony, the iron sight of his pipe-rifle having fractured, piercing his face with the shrapnel. Quickly rushing to a fallen barrel for cover, the mare drew her light-weight, silver revolver, humming the song as she checked to see all six rounds were loaded into the moon-clip.

"You're a dead stallion!" One Raider growled, charging toward her position with a pool cue fashioned into a spear. Peeking out from the barrel, she bucked it along, using the mobile cover to hide from enemy gunfire while the spearman lunged with a war cry. Time crawled and with several shots targetted for the dirty-green unicorn's chest, she let the targets settle, firing three consecutive shots center-mass. The first shot punctured the thick, leather barding, the second drew blood, dropping the stallion forward in a frame-by-frame of his gargled scream. Given his forward-descent, the third bullet lodged itself deep into his forehead, slamming the stallion down into the ground in a heap.

Ducking, she noted a window to an old cafe behind her. Taking a swan-dive she flung herself through the window, shattering the glass and cutting herself slightly upon falling, pressing her back flush against the wall while yellow lines and the ricochet of bullets splintered the wooden counters. The red counters were closing in on her position, she hadn't long to prepare. Calmly, she tugged her saddlebag into view, fishing through her bags while firing a few warning shots blindly to keep the Raiders approach at a standstill.

"Surround 'em, and don't move 'till they do, got that!?" One Raider snapped, must have been the leader.

"He up and killed Sun, Ting, and Wong!" Another scratchy voice shrieked. By the time they argued orders, she had already set several lovely cocktails in front of her excited hooves. It was a shame to put such good booze to waste, good thing it was some sub-par, cheap stuff she stole from two idiotic Solar Legion scouts having a fun time on a mattress. She had to admit, she was envious for a moment, that mare was in heaven.

Clicking her tongue, she used her magic to light a match off the wall without struggle, lighting the damp cloths once the hoofsteps were closer. Levitating the four fiery shots high, she once more fell into SATS, hearing their distorted cries vibrate in her accelerated perception. Locking from right to left she sadly could only hit three Raiders, this was fine by her. Adjusting to strike the appropriate percentages, she mentally sat back and let her Pip-Buck handle this diplomatically.

"Oh shit!" One screamed, diving away, sadly, the flames caught his tail and hooves, torching him alongside his companions that cried out in terror, their armor only suppressing the previous of burns, so it made the process slow and painful. One practically rolled in hysterics, their strained cries gargled by the burns. Taking out her revolver, she silenced them quickly, grunting as the bullet clipped her helmet, knocking her back with a red icon spinning into view of her HUD.

"Die already, bastard!" It was a lovely present grenade. Growing pale, she kicked away her saddlebags behind a fallen table while she leapt behind the diner counter mere seconds before the entrance was engulfed in fire and fragmentation. Glass showered her with bits of tile and splinters. Recovering, she threw up her revolver, immediately sliding to the floor as another grenade bounced off the walls, blowing a sizable hole in the side of the bar counter. "I know who you are, bitch-" She paused in her silent shuffling along the floor, it was the leader again. "Tch, think you can show us up?" Yes, she surmised. "Once I break your legs I'll fucking hang you from the gate like a living pinata for the crows to pick on!"

While he taunted her with baseless threats, she quickly snuck around the furniture and out the second entrance, hiding behind a makeshift wall that served to support a walkway above her head, stretching to cover the road and the building across from her. Seems they were still constructing the four-way gates to completely circulate the traders. It was a serious issue, and this was one of many that had surfaced during the war between the Solar Legion and the Lunar Republic. While the desert fell into civil war, Raiders, Slavers, and smaller factions rose to take advantage of the bickering.

Sighing, she realized she only had one more moon-clip on her coat, and three shots left in her Barret, not to mention most of her supplies are still hiding under a table. This was a minor setback, however... "Hmm!" Her eyes gleamed with stars under her mask at the sight of the precious bottle she saved from under the counter. A black bottle with a cork, wrapped in an old newspaper to mask its identity, a strong scent filled her muzzle once the cork popped. A vintage bottle of whiskey, though it baffled her why it had a cork she wouldn't complain.

Savoring the scent that tickled her nose and made the back of her throat feel tingly. She moved her respirator, a smile stretched over her muzzle while tipping the bottle back in her magic. If she was to fight down to the wire, she'd do so with a fire in her belly.

*Blam-Shatter!*

Blinking once, her eyes searched for the missing contents. Her magic dissipated, and no bottle was found, merely shards clattering to the tarmac, the contents staining the surface like tears. Her muzzle was left unhinged, a desperate hitch in her throat as her hooves shuffled on the ground in front of her. Looking back, one of the Raiders lowered his rifle. "Shit, I missed her!?"

"How did you miss her, she wasn't moving an inch!?" The leader in full, black barding and a trenchcoat similar to her own snarled. His jade eyes slit at his subordinate. "This is why you weren't on guard duty, you couldn't hit a ship if was beached two feet in front of you!"

The stallion shrugged, shoving the rifle back on his battle-saddle. "What do you want from me? I'm fucking blind in one eye!" He motioned to his left, neither realizing the gravity of the situation before them. The third and final pony did, pointing between them nervously.

"Hey, boss... boss!" He tapped, motioning to the dark aura surrounding the concealed mare who slowly shuffled from hiding. "A-A thought occurs, maybe... we shouldn't have provoked her."

The Jet-black leader snorted, glaring daggers at the mare, head sunk low, magic carrying both the revolver and the anti-material rifle, her once light, lilac magic now radiating amethyst. The sheer pressure her aura gave off was as though a gravity spell was cast over their hooves, locking them to the road, none daring to look away from the silent mare who silently wept for the loss of such a precious drink - stolen before it's time - stripped from her hooves like a knife to the heart.

"Relax," He assured, raising his own battle-saddle loaded with two kitbashed carbines. "There's three of us, all with guns and explosives - I think we got this."

"Fuck that! look at her!" The one to the right yelled, raising his rifle.

One more step and the mare held her ground, a gust of wind blowing in from the west, flicking through her coat, revealing the dumbstruck sight of peach fur. Her barding was discarded behind the wooden barricade, leaving the mare naked in only a trenchcoat and a few padded straps. Then she dropped her rifle, a bullet fired not a moment after her magic discarded the device, releasing a bullet that tore up the road and amputated the Raider to her right, his body falling over in a shrill of agony, holding up his spurting limb in shock.

"Crap, boss, get back!" The left yelled, shoving him away from the knife now lodged deep in the left Raider's jugular, staining the masked mare in crimson paint, but that hardly phased her, a precious drink was wasted and she had a job to do. Looking down at the sobbing Raider still clutching his missing hoof, she approached, seeing his tearful face twist in fright, attempting to kick away.

"N-n-no, get back! Get the hell away from me!" His begging didn't compute with her, leveling the revolver to his snout, the hammer snapping back. His voice hiccuped, even the leader remained frozen as his final subordinate was silenced with a heavy 'bang', lead piercing his scalp and leaving a fan of blood against the pavement.

Turning slowly, he hesitated, adjusting the cord in his teeth to unload both mags into her armorless frame. However, this was all according to plan while her body fell downward, sprinting low and in a wide circle to keep the hail of bullets off her flank. Sure, reducing her armor was an issue but so was wearing nothing but scrap-metal that no longer protected her from a light breeze. His anger was evident, and the light ticking of empty magazines told her it was time to act.

"Dammit!" He stepped back, using his teeth to snatch up a knife of his own to quickly parry her downward swing, only hers was faster and held the force equivalent to a buck to his cheek, teeth splitting from his gum while he stumbled to the ground before her trained weapons. "A-alright, you win, I get it! J-just ease up, will ya!?" The leader's cough was mixed with copper and another tooth that he spat out in long swabs of blood and spit.

Once more, the pair stared each other down, neither making the first move. Holding his breath, he was almost afraid of her answer, she held at knifepoint, whatever was to become of this was her call. In only a few minutes she not only disorganized his whole outpost but won with a few shots, Molotov cocktails, and a knife. He knew who she was, some stranger that kept throwing wrenches into their plans all across the desert, no one knew where she came from or why one mare had such a vendetta against almost everypony in the wasteland. But she was merciless and held the backbone to prove it.

A sigh escaped her, "...do you have any idea..." Her voice was low and deliberate, hiding the once mirthful pitch under malice and grief. "...how rare a bottle you broke?" He couldn't see it, but her brow was twitching, utterly irked by the stallion's disrespect to the ponies of old that took the care to master such a product. It was a sin, a sickly, unforgivable sin.

...

...

"Wha-"

*Blam!*

A fire soon engulfed the crossroad outpost behind the mare, a new, black coat strapped with a belt rubbed against her black barding comfortably, it wasn't without a few pricks and rough padding but she wasn't complaining, the barding she wore was long-overdue a repair or downright replacement. Lighting a final, liquor-coated beam, the bridge above her was set ablaze in a satisfying crackle and snap. Those traders were free to roam without the dangers of taxing or downright murder.

Before torching the outpost, inside a small workshop behind the diner she found a room filled with the dead bodies of many ponies left to rot in their own filth, stripped of their equipment, and left with long gashes across their bodies. If the infection didn't kill them, bleeding to death slowly certainly would. Once outside the blaze's radius, she turned and tipped her hardhat to those she burned, happy to free them of this hell. She wasn't the sharpest, but no pony deserved to suffer the way they did.

Adjusting her saddlebags and rifle to rest evenly dispersed, her telekinetic grasp held out a flask, the strong aroma of whiskey prominent above the ash and sweet-smelling wood as it burned on into the new day. She'd savor it for the road, it was still a long way to Las Pegasus, and alot more ponies needed somepony dead. Slipping it away, she tapped her Pip-Buck, tuning in to the radio station once more, the music once more filling her ears, a voice of a gravely, old stallion speaking above the growing tempo.

~-All those across the harsh Mojave Wasteland keep yer flanks down and yourselves armed - Reports of the newly established 'Raiders of Three-Horns' still comin' in across the western region - but that's nothing new. Now! Let's drown out the bad with a little bit of old rock, eh?~ DJ-Pone-3 announced, and the mare's hooves skipped at the familiar track, a smile stretching under her rebreather, blood continuing to drip from the stains she had yet to clean.

Taking a look back at the black smoke stretching to cover the rising sun, she certainly had some more heads to pop and liquor to steal, using her magic to raise a bottle to her glowing eyes, slipping her bloodied mask down to take a long sip. Smacking her lips, she hummed the song, content with her place in the wasteland, and for the roads in particular, she had yet to paint red.

Author's Note

The title of the chapter is the song the 'Mare' was playing; Also, the inspiration came from a hilarious guy called TheRussianBadger, the mare also shares the stats he chose. By no means am I as good as most Fallout Fic writers but again, this was a '3 AM' story I just scraped together while juiced on too much caffeine.

I hope you enjoyed, appreciate the support as always, seeya next time!

Here are her stats!

Strength - 10 (Herculean Strong)
Perception - 1 (Deaf-Bat)
Endurance - 7 (Made of Tungsten)
Charisma - 1 (Misanthrope)
Intelligence - 1 (Sub-Brick)
Agility - 10 (Juiced car battery)
Luck - 10 (Two-Headed Coin)

Bad Luck Charm

"Not much of a talker, are you, kid?" The surprising twist on the Wasteland standard, the black sheen of chitin marked the exoskeleton of the grizzled Changeling. His face obscured by a dark hood, leaving only the hiss in his accent and the wide, pupilless eyes filled with a bright, mint green tint, matching his concealed, transparent wings and tail. Broker clicked his tongue. "Or is this the sssilent treatment?"

The mare gave it some thought, shaking her head. "I'm told my words cause more harm than good, so being not very talkative helps keep bullets from hitting me... or so I've seen," She replied earnestly, gauging the throaty chuckle from the insect, his black hooves punctured like cheese. "Mm, cheese..."

"Tell it like it is, sssister," His hoof patted her shoulder while he leaned back to brush the caps into a bag behind the makeshift counter. It too was grimy, simply scrapped together from surrounding junk scattered by the hot wind, left to rust and weather in the sun. Broker did this often, setting up shop only to vanish like smoke not long after, he was always where you wanted him unless that concerned a shallow grave. "Heard you ruffled the feathers of those ssstuck-up sssnobs in the NLR, that true?" She swore his eyes glow brighter at the visualization of her troubles

Her face was masked but Broker could picture the strong distaste on her face, coupled with a pout. "They started it, just because 'we have guns, we have lots of guns, that means what we say goes', tch, assholes," It grated her, they weren't helping the Wasteland just enforcing a law no pony asked for.

"Preach, sssista," With that, he gave a wave, slouching back on his chair as the mare wandered back to the road with a wave of her own, the tarmac hot to the touch due to the rising sun bearing down on her. So, with her magical fingers, she pulled off the cap and took a sip of her trusty Stable 13 canteen.

Traveling the Mojave Desert is a taxing journey if you don't prepare for the harsh shift of scorching heat during the day to frigid winds at night. That, coupled with the irradiated creatures mutated due to the Mega Spells releasing the metric ton of Balefire Radiation, and Luna help you if you stumbled across the nightmares that slept in the slag known as Taint. The mare had even heard of something called 'Flux' that was rumored to turn creatures into walking abominations of fused animals; Though she wasn't concerned for whatever Hoofington was going through right now with some massive bounty on another maare's head for some program. The fact it even reached as far as Los Pegasus was astounding.

"-Hey, I'm talking to you!" Snapping out of her daydream of the dramas of the cracked world, the mare spun around to find... another mare! Only this was didn't spell anything good, her barding marked by the same symbol of the NLR. She had to resist rolling her eyes at their arrival being awfully convenient given her last crossing with the militaristic ponies.

She was an auburn pegasus with autumn eyes that lacked any warmth or concern, even from over the rim of her stupid shades. Her mane scruffy and a dark-brown tied back with a belt. The two behind her were more-or-less the last thing the mare had the care to notice. All three were Rangers, that much her Pip-Buck told her after a quick glance at the amber dots on the map. Not good.

"Judging by how you haven't pissed yourself I'll assume you don't know who we are-" That was one of many questions the mare was thinking, yes. "-Next time I'll bring my sickle and wear my black cloak." The two officers behind her chuckled at her joke, though the mare tilted her head.

"Isn't it a scythe...?" She murmured under their ears, not getting what was funny about the inaccurate detailing of Death himself. Then she realized the angry mare was still talking.

"-See, the New Lunar Republic sends us to do terrible things to terrible ponies," The mare's autumn eyes hadn't left the masked mare's glowing optics, not realizing her mind had wandered not more than five seconds ago, merely catching the important pieces that kept her from just simply wandering back onto the road nearby. She was burning daylight.

"...can I go now?" The black-wearing mare moaned like a filly being told off. Then she pointed to the sun above. "It's getting hot and I want to find shade."

That seemed to piss the NLR Ranger off, seeing her scowl deepen with her own sense of irritation that both stallions behind her stepped a few inches back from, afraid she'd buck one of them across the face. "Listen here, girly! You've got three days to improve your attitude, both to me and with the NLR or we come for you," She stepped closer to glare through the red lenses, sharpening her pupils to the masked mare's. "And without this pleasant exchange of words."

She looked around, then leaned forward to meet the angry pegasus's gaze. "So... nothing about any... arson, right?" Her chipper voice was starting to grate the Rander's ears.

"What?" The spite was evident in her throat so the mare backed away, waving a hoof.

"Nothing, just throwing funny words," She stuck her tongue out, only to taste metal, forgetting her muzzle was still covered up.

"Just do yourself a favor and get going before I change my mind - the last thing I need to repeat myself to some walk-the-wasteland-fuck," The dismissive tone in the auburn mare's tone continuously gave off a chilling vibe, silencing the ramblings of the masked mare, her gawk hidden.

"'Walk-the-wasteland-fuck'?" Not a word was spoken after as once more her mind vanished back to something her Mom once taught her about the world outside. It wasn't always filled with bad ponies, just misguided or desperate ones. However, those with power were always tricky, some held the responsibility that came with such strength, and others merely became their own monsters. One thing remained prominent inside her own little world, 'If a pony meets another with violence you have every right to react in kind, but remember, waging war against good ponies is bad for the soul. It won't make sense now, but it's the most important thing I've said'. "Care to rephrase that?"

Sadly, by the time she focused on the world once more, the trio of Rangers were trotting off back into the desert, leaving the mare speechless at their threats, but more importantly, for not even saying 'Goodbye', manners these days were really rare it seemed. Shaking her head, she steeled her nerves and crept up on the stallion in the back, tailing the others without a care in the world. Despite the fact the mare was practically glued to his flank, magic crackling as it pulled the hammer back on her revolver, SATS lighting up to define the crown of his head in detail under a stupid Stenson hat.

One-shot and the muzzle flashed, releasing a strong kick to his crown, blood and fragments of bone and straw sent flying up and over the two Rangers, their bodies flinching downward in fright over the sudden gunshot. None could react in time, the mare moved like a shadow against the sun, slipping before the leader mare whose eyes widened under her mucky, brown bangs, shakily fumbling with her battle-saddle before the 'click' of the revolver loaded the next shot. The last thing she saw was the screen of the familiar Pip-Buck lighting up with her whole body scanned across the screen, the head icon highlighted with two lines.

She snorted at the snap of her weapon's muzzle, the first bullet piercing the Ranger's throat, the second suddenly launched her body across the sand, creating a nice, red splash on the boulder behind them, the corpse sliding down in a lifeless heap. Pulling out of SATS, the mare turned her head to find the final Ranger galloping away, his magic flickering in a feeble attempt to maintain a strong grip on his rifle.

"You know," He flinched, then screamed once blood flew past his face, dropping him into the dirt like a sack of bricks, the mare's shadow stretching over him. Enchanting his rifle he swung the barrel around, missing her helmet by a mere inch, the ringing evident in her ear, yet she remained still, pushing the muzzle away from her vital organs with a mere hoof. "Nine millimeter would kill the body, this thirty-eight-special can kill the soul," She snapped the hammer back, seeing him flinch.

With a little strain on her magic, she levitated out her large, carbon-black rifle, the mere sight an omen of death for the Ranger. "But this beautiful puddle-maker loooves twelve-point-seven," She cooed, fawning over her weapons while leaning down to look the petrified Ranger dead in the eyes. "That won't just kill you, it'll make sure that not even the Radscorpians can't even pick at what's left of you."

"You're insane!" Poor choice of words. The mare was having none of it, carefully strapping her weapons back onto her barding. "You're no better than those damn Raiders, hell, a fucking Diamond Dog has more mercy than - ack!" A hoof promptly broke a few teeth of his against the coarse dirt.

"Where was that same 'Mercy' when you lit up a small town just because they wanted to be left alone?" She pressed, stepping on the pony's chest to keep him still, malice licking every word. "When your group executed Fathers and Brothers in-front of their families when they wouldn't join your cause, was that mercy? Must be the changing times because I'm a little behind on the details - plus, not the sharpest tool or something that some ponies said to me, but I like to believe I have a steady head on my shoulders when it counts," Her muzzle leaned down, and the Ranger swore the tinted goggles glowed brighter with rage. "So don't talk to me about mercy when there's not a shred left in walk-the-wasteland-fucks like you."

"No-"

*Blam!*

Her revolver slid under her coat again, the blood dripping out from the pierced eye-socket with a few audible squelches and spits of crimson. "Jerk,"

The rest of the blood merry she cooked up would probably be swept under the preverbal rug by the desert or the aforementioned Radscorpions would munch on the remains later, whatever came first. Rubbing her foot against the dirt slightly, she sighed and shook her head clear of the pesky thoughts, if the NLR caught wind of this she'd certainly have bigger issues in the future.

How did she remedy this along with her return to the dirt-ridden road? She took a sip from her trusty Stable 13 canteen.

Author's Note

Okay, wrote this again in the early hours of the morning, I think I have a problem. But seriously, fuck the NCR (Or in Fallout Equestria's case, the NLR). I've had to put up with their condescending and pedantic attitudes, I honestly put a bullet in all their heads personally. So our nameless mare happily does the same upon behind threatened just because she doesn't play nice with their bullshit ideals.

So yeah, while I have no intention of making a Fallout: Equestria story as that would lead to a mental breakdown, these little shorts are more than enough for me. Gotta thank the original Fallout fic and Project Horizons for this. I hope you enjoyed, appreciate the support as always, seeya next time Wastelanders.

P.S. For those who know the quote mentioned prior to the bloodshed, remember, we cannot expect God to do all the work. So let's leave it to the mare with a rifle capable of killing the soul. Also, why is it that the message about you taking a sip of water always appears after I've done something inhumane? Perhaps to wash away my sins? Pfft, yeah, sure...