Fallout: Equestria - A Good Teacher

"Dear princess... I have learned my lesson."

The terminal of the sound recording equipment was glowing. Several ponies stood silently in the semi-darkness. The soft notes of the piano sounded, forming a melancholy, tired melody. A small pony sang quietly in time with her playing:

Rain will not step away before sun
Rain, rain, go away, go away
Rain, rain, go away, go away

So the first day came, and went away.
The rain-rain didn't go away, didn't go away
Rain, rain, go away, go away

Rain will not step away before sun
Rain will not step away before sun
Rain, rain, go away, go away...

So the second day came and went by.
Rain, rain, go away, go away
It rained and rained, and it rained all out...

The pony fell silent and, bending her head towards the instrument, let the last note sound. Someone clicked the end-of-record key with a well-aimed movement, everyone around breathed a sigh of relief and began to disperse. I met her at the exit.

"Cool!.. Congratulations!" I said, to which she smiled. "Did you make this up yourself?"

"Yes," she beamed, "Actually, I can sing a lot of things, but so far dad says that this is my best song. I want to give it to my sister for her birthday. It will be on the evening broadcast, at the end of the party. There will be a cake, funny hats and dancing. And also on the main screen..."

I woke up cold. My whole body ached. " What's wrong with me?" It was as if there was darkness all around, sticky, thick, surrounding me for so long that it seemed to have penetrated the very essence of my being, becoming a part of me.

I looked ahead with difficulty, and somehow saw that the floor was wet. And I seemed to be all wet myself. The water had found a way through the roof. The rain had stopped, and the silence was broken only by the soft clicks of the pipbuck, too insignificant to make me move. I rubbed my forehead, surprised to find that I was not wearing my glasses. "No wonder, I lost them a couple of... wait, how long have I been lying here?"

In front of me, on the floor, lay fragments of a Dash inhaler flask.

Dash. Even the name was disgusting. "Who in their right mind would even think of inhaling this stuff?..."

The stupidity of my own statement washed over me in waves. I inhaled the... no, I couldn't say crap. Dash was wonderful. The thought of its vapors rolling around in my mouth, down into my lungs, and spreading throughout my body with my blood made me close my eyes and lick my lips. But something was wrong. All those memory lapses, those jumps in events... the drug was clearly the culprit.

Velvet Remedy was here. Right here, or rather, not far away. But why am I all alone then? Isn't this a mirage? Delirium from an overdose of this... eh, deshem... it can't be that my sister left me like that, abandoned me and... didn't help, she had to do something! Anything! Anything?..

“I just wanted to say ‘forgive me’, I just wanted to stay close to you,” I whispered, hiding my face in her hooves, as if hoping to hear her answer.

I noticed my reflection in a puddle. Exhausted eyes, a broken nose, a short, almost to the very root, sparse mane and not at all white, gray fur, in places with spots of long-dried blood. "Maybe she didn't recognize me..."

Little by little, more and more light began to seep through the boarded-up windows, and I thought that it was (probably) morning already.

The thoughts that surrounded me were tearing me to pieces. I found my sister and lost her. I wanted to scream in frustration, when suddenly I noticed that a green mark had been flickering on the locator all this time. The excitement made me just jump.

"Could it really be her?! Could it really be my Velvet... me..."

A cat, an old friend of mine, came out into the middle of the room. I clenched my teeth in frustration, looked at her again, and couldn't find her or her mark! "How did she do it so fast?.."

There was a large rat lying in front of me. I snorted and turned away, when suddenly I heard small steps, and lowering my head I saw the purring cat again, in her teeth there was another rat, as if from a store shelf, similar to the second one. The cat looked at me questioningly, apparently expecting praise. I immediately said a few affectionate words to her and scratched her behind the ear, smoothing her soft back.

On the one hand, I had no desire to do this, but to ignore such care would be equivalent to the worst thing you can do to a friend, and just now, the cat acquired exactly this status for me.

It suddenly dawned on me: I can see normally! Without glasses! In shock, I looked again at my reflection in the puddle and indeed, I didn’t have glasses on, but I could see clearly! Joy and surprise mixed in me.

Having probably been lying around without strength all night and the whole previous day, I still felt tired.

Feeling my mouth with my tongue, I decided that it would be nice to have a drink, and walking around the hut, I found some rainwater in an empty garbage can. The sensations from it were not the most pleasant, but the thirst disappeared.

The coals in the fire gave off a faint glow. The smell of wood smoke and roasted meat filled the air. Oddly enough, I liked the smell. The rats roasted on the fire looked quite appetizing. My clothes were drying on an iron barrel nearby, having undergone an additional "cleaning" from radioactive waste in the rain. Yes, I was definitely going to put the armor on again when it dried.

I made a fire right in the middle of the room, right where there was a trace of someone's old fire. It didn't take any effort to magically concentrate on a few dry kindlings and light them properly so that the large sticks and boards that I managed to find near the carefully boarded up windows caught fire.

I took the cooked meat off the fire, put the spit (actually a piece of rebar) against the wall to cool. Murlyka waited patiently and watched what I would do with the catch.

Suddenly, there was a series of blows on the boards of the boarded-up window. As if not paying attention, I sniffed the meat. It smelled delicious.

"Well, hello to the next step in the food chain!... a meat-eating pony, who would have thought?"

The knock was repeated, this time more insistent.

"Who's there?" I asked quietly. "Actually, there's a door here."

"OoohrrrrAGGGGGGRRRR..." came from outside.

There was only one red mark on the locator, and I was already scared, but was it worth talking about the door? Even though it was locked with a bolt.

I took the shotgun in magic, loaded several cartridges, surprised at how difficult this action was for me in terms of magic control and dexterity in general. The cat looked at the window, standing motionless like a statue, her eyes wide open in horror. The knock was repeated, this time with the crack of breaking boards. Sooner or later the protection would be broken.

"Listen, buddy, I haven't had breakfast yet."

I looked at the rats hanging on the spit and decided not to rush. Putting the shotgun aside, I started eating. The cat also hurried to join in and with obvious pleasure dealt with the rat, which was almost half its height. I acted more intelligently, eating the legs and meaty back first. Having appreciated the charm of the crispy crust and the light aroma of the absorbed smoke, I stopped at the point where it was no longer convenient to eat and I didn’t want to anymore. That’s enough for the first time.

Meanwhile, something continued to break through the boards with a terrifying howl, and finally a rotten hoof appeared in the hole between two strong beams, and then a mouth that had grabbed onto a board. I instantly grabbed the shotgun, caught the moment in S.A.T.S. and was already ready to shoot, but.. "is it worth it? It's a shame to waste the cartridge." The remains of the rat already looked unappetizing, although, maybe.. was it really the smell of fried meat that attracted this ghoul here? Or was it me?

I looked at the black, hexagonal barrel of my gun. The magical runes shimmered faintly, becoming brighter and paler. From the side, one might think that they were simply painted on. “I wonder what they all mean? Maybe some kind of blessing in an ancient language.”

Given my caliber, it's possible, even certain, that I'll attract even more creatures, or worse, live ponies.

With nothing to lose, I threw the remains of my breakfast right into the hole, to the walking corpse for its amusement. There was a crunch and a chomp, and then a growl, even a contented one? I would never have thought that zombies could feel pleasure. To my surprise (or pride), the red mark disappeared. Who would have thought, the poor thing just wanted to eat. No matter who.

After drinking some rainwater from a flask and looking at the jumping dosimeter arrow, I lazily sat down on my haunches. The dead man had gone, which meant everything was ok. The cat had also decided to take a nap. Despite the fact that it was already midday, the idea of sleeping a little more seemed wonderful to me. I was full, there were no problems , "and in general, everything was just great!"

Bursting with pleasure from my own coolness and prudence, I lay down on a pile of rotten things, hugged the shotgun (putting it on safety), and very quickly fell asleep.

After sleeping for a couple of hours, already tired of lying around, I put on a dry, pleasant to the touch jacket, a bulletproof vest and jeans. Looking around, I found a forgotten puddle of pink goo. Without thinking, I easily covered it with sand, and then looked into the bag to figure out what to do next. My supplies looked very nice, although this does not mean that nothing needs to be done.

I closed the bag, leaving the book "Sniper Weapons" in my hooves, and, oh yeah! I could easily read not only the title, but also the first page, the second... but the third was already difficult for me. I could see well, but to understand all these conditional terms, some formulas and calculations, in other words, was boring for me . "Oh, these eggheads"

The only thing that caught my attention and wasn't sadly scrolled through were the pictures of stallions posing with rifles of different calibers and models. " I wish I had one like that... maybe not too powerful, but accurate and... yes! With a silencer so as not to make noise."

Having chewed the last page of text, I closed the magazine tiredly.

*blink* - the pipbuck croaked.

On the screen, at the bottom of the list, a new notification appeared:

"This knowledge was of no use to you."

"What?.. this is not fair!!"

I selected the book in my inventory and tried to use it with the pipbuck.. " maybe he can explain what I did wrong" But the device only gave a dry signature:

"Requires intelligence greater than eight, or light weapons/repair greater than two hundred percent"

"Eight? How many do I have?"

I opened the SPECIAL system and stared at the sad number "6"

I also managed to notice the "Luck" indicator, which, like "Charisma", displayed a suspicious question mark "?", and that the "Irradiation" inscription stopped glowing actively, before I turned off the monitor in disappointment.

"Stupid, stupid, broken clock!"

"Argh... what do you have to do to raise your intelligence to eight? Wow... - I said, about to hit the unwanted pipbuck on the floor, but I didn't have time to finish muttering my displeasure. Someone's voices came from the street. I quickly turned on the pipbuck in its place and grabbed the locator. Four yellow marks. " Four, whoever it was, four is a lot."

I silently removed the barrels from the safety catches. "Yellow ones, by the way?"

Someone pulled the door, but the bolt sat tight and it didn't budge.

"There's someone here..."

"Hey there! Whoever you are, put down your weapon and come out and surrender, and then maybe the three of us won't have to love you in every hole we find in your body."

I thought about it and imagined myself firing a full clip of PP through the door. However, I found something to answer:

“I won’t give up, but as for the second one…” I beamed, “I still have to think about it.”

"Oh... wow..." there was so much confusion and embarrassment in the stallion's voice that I had a hard time not laughing. - Who are you anyway and where are you from?

I looked doubtfully at the shotgun, at my black jacket, and caught the number on the armor plate of the guard uniform of the stall "45". With such an approach, I could not call myself a guard, and what if... what was it that Khlamka said about reconnaissance?

“I’m a spy,” I said crisply, and added, “I don’t need any trouble, and I don’t think you do either.”

"Listen, this is actually our point," the mare's angry voice sounded, "probably her mark was displayed in red." But the stallions, as one, turned green. I wonder why. "Leave on good terms. Are you lighting a fire there? You'll have to pay for the firewood!!!"

I could hear them start talking to each other, more quietly.

"Shut up, maybe she'll want to take a walk with us."

"Oh, you! And you too... what are you doing!" the mare scolded, and the mark of one of the guys turned yellow, and the mare's mark also changed from red to yellow.

I was in no hurry to interfere while they were sorting things out between themselves, I needed to understand who I really was and what I wanted. I didn't want sex. Not that I was against it, but now was not the time or place. However, what about the team?

"Listen," I said when the argument died down, "let's start with the fact that no one is going to kill anyone, okay?" There was agreement from the street. "So I'm going to open the door, and we'll talk like normal ponies."

Opening the door with magic, I held the shotgun and pistol down on the ground, trying to look confident by showing off the weapons. My gaze was immediately met by a steel-cold mare, who was immediately blocked by an overgrown stallion, carrying an assault rifle in front of him like a medal on his chest.

"Wow!.." he whistled, looking me up and down. Two stallions followed behind, and joked among themselves, like, do you even know any other words besides "Wow, what an ass", and the stallion, offended, began to explain that he liked my guns.

When everyone who entered put their weapons behind their backs, I decided to speak, but I was interrupted by one of the stallions, the one marked yellow.

"So, what are you doing here?"

"I slept. There was a dead man hanging around here at night, and I didn't feel like walking. And then there was this rain."

"Wait, wait, my mother mare, where did you get this armor? Are you from the stable?"

"Not exactly like that, I told you, I’m a spy."

"You don't get it? I'm telling you, you're from that gang that broke into and smashed up stable 45 a year ago! What kind of intelligence agency are you from? Rumor has it that not a single resident left alive."

"It's not true, there are survivors. Do you think we should sleep with the same stallions?" I smiled, improvising on the fly. "And then you see, someone slowly got involved and got their own weapon. We've already forgotten that some of our guys were residents of forty-five. But if you drop by, maybe you can ask someone about his daily life in the stable. Someone might even say that he's glad we broke in, like, before that everything was dull and monotonous. Gray walls and all that..."

"Seriously? And I heard that you don’t let anyone in."

"Those who made this up probably shot first and then asked to come in."

"Listen, I already love you. If you lead us and get us into the gang, I'll kiss your hooves. Is it true that each fighter there has his own room?"

The stallions excitedly asked me about the details of the raider life in the stall, and I, recalling my real stall routine, invented a whole world for them, taking more and more control over the situation. However, my opponent finally got tired of this and the mare went outside.

“Where are you going?” asked the bald stallion, who was apparently the leader of the group.

"I'll go stand guard, and you have fun here, otherwise I'm already sick of her."

However, it didn't get to the point of "entertainment". Baldy told me that they were here tracking down wandering traders, and I suddenly couldn't help but think about the contents of my bag. They shouldn't know how many potions and ammo I had. They themselves looked equipped, but it was unlikely that such desperate raiders would have at least one potion for the entire group. Baldy went to rob because his family was kicked out of their home for debts. Light escaped from the city of slaves, where she was threatened with working near RAD radiation until her death, and when she returned, she did not find any of her people and was doomed to starve. Those two also have their own pitiful story. Everyone gathered here by chance, and not because of a good life.

"...So, we are ten minutes away from the main road at a trot. Whoever goes along it, we have to hope for luck. See this?" the stallion showed his leg with the pipbuck. "They were made before the war, he can..."

“I know what it can do,” I demonstrated my identical device, “so that means we’ll wait all day?”

"Not bad if you have a pipbuck... but do you really want to come with us? Cool! An extra gun would be very useful."

Remembering the role of a spy, I began to feel at a loss, because I should have a high mission.

"Eh... yeah, it can be really boring. Sit around all day and watch what happens. Then run to base and report, or by radio if you can get it, but that can be dangerous near cities like this."

I thought that if, as a spy, I really did transmit something on the radio (which, by the way, I didn’t have), then the large city located nearby would be an excellent place where I could be heard and then tracked down.

"At least I’ll have some fun with you guys, and the main thing is that I’ll still be staying at work, watching the perimeter."

"What exactly are you looking for here? City patrols?"

"Right on target, but I wouldn’t want to meet them."

And indeed. The last time I walked through New Appleloosa, I felt strange. On the one hand, they could have simply killed me. But something stopped them. As if they were afraid of becoming like me, afraid of being infected by me with everything that I was. But in the next meeting, for example in the wasteland, it is unknown how the conversation with the city patrolmen would have ended.

What if I was only left alive because Velvet stood up for me? Maybe I just didn't realize it in my drugged-up state. Meeting my sister only raised more questions in me than it solved. I would have liked to talk in a calmer environment, but now I didn't know where to look for Velvet. If I was "lucky" to run into her last time (even if it wasn't at the best moment), now my chances of luck seemed slim.

We spent the next hour sitting around the newly lit fire, but in silence. Some were cleaning their weapons, some were lying around munching on chips, and I was looking at the map in my pipbuck. Compared to my pipbuck, this one had a great many very interesting markers, not all of which I wanted to visit, like the Canterlot Ruins with the caption "DANGER, STAY AWAY, FOOL", or the Blast Zone near Maripony, and many, many more ominous names I had already ignored, and then I found something interesting. Only forty or fifty kilometers from here, an icon in the form of a house - "Base" with the caption "Stable 45"

A pipbuck like this would be a real find for bandit hunters, which once again justified my decision to hide the pipbuck under my sleeve. Yes, it made it difficult to monitor the "ears on top" locator, but on the other hand, I didn't use it that often. Most importantly, not every pony needs to know that I have a pipbuck.

Suddenly the door opened, but instead of the mare, who (as I thought) was tired of standing guard, a well-equipped stallion appeared in the doorway, unlike anyone else present here.

"Good day, citizens, are we chilling?"

“Yes sir,” responded one of the stallions.

"Whait a sec, who do we have here, Trash!: a chill ran down my neck. He was talking to me! But not to me at the same time! "Where did you get so messed up?"

I started going through possible answers. What would a seasoned raider, a drug addict, say?

“Don’t aam.. don’t ask,” I mumbled.

"Have you been sniffing desh again? Why are you drinking it or something?"

“It’s nice to see you,” I began. “Yes, it happened, I thought this time it was definitely the end, I wouldn’t make it, but here you see, I’m alive, and not just alive, look here...”

And I opened the hidden bag for him.

"Woah, did you rob a caravan?"

“No, a simple trading post. Here, take this,” I said, handing the broad-browed stallion a couple of healing potions and a pack of RadAway.

"Why are you so kind?"

"Maybe I'm just glad to see you. At least not alone now."

“Hey, that’s already offensive!” the bald pony responded.

"Oh, don't be jealous, you'll know our friendship-magic," the black-skinned stallion smiled broadly. "In forty-five, we have our own mountain behind our own, and we're happy to share everything."

“E - envy,” said the bald stallion, rubbing the back of his head.

“It’s not free,” I continued, “you’ll owe me.”

"Oh, come on," the guy from forty-five got upset. "Okay, what do you want?"

"First of all, stay with me when we rob the caravan. I'm still suffering from withdrawal, my head is like cotton wool and it seems like my brain is about to rot alive."

"Well, please, I don’t need to get paid for robbery."

"You don’t understand, just please make sure that I don’t kill myself there."

"Ok. But you're really some kind of weird bitch. Stop with the desh or whatever else you're smoking."

Dash and mentals. Does Trash like dash and mentals? Or only dash? I decided to keep quiet about this, as well as about the name of this guy.

It suddenly dawned on me that the cat hadn't shown up all this time, although her green mark kept flashing here and there. Indeed, why would she sit in the room, and in the company of strangers?

I started thinking about the upcoming fight, or what would happen if the fight didn't happen. There would be only one way to calm down four reckless stallions, and I didn't really want to think about it anymore. On the other hand, I had bribed one, whoever he was.

I looked at the "Stable 45" mark again and, marking this point with a marker on the map, decided that I had to get there. Now I have a reason. I'll say that I'm high on cheap, that I'm just tired and want to sleep it off.

Trying to distract myself from my obsessive thoughts, I began unloading and loading Khlamka's shotgun. When I figured out how to remove a cartridge from the chamber, I pointed the shotgun at the wall and took aim, imagining myself pulling the trigger, and then actually pulling it, not without fear imagining what would happen if there was another cartridge in the barrel by accident.

I rehearsed the reload several times, cutting the time spent almost in half. Pipbuck had his own opinion on this matter, and assured me that the shotgun reload with the S.A.T.S. involved could be reduced to one second. I would rather spend the action points on precise aimed shots and reload myself. In any case, there would be no problems with reloading now.

Without a couple of healing potions and pills, the bag became a little lighter, but I still had plenty of ammo, and this meant that I would have to hide the bag if I wanted to go into battle. Do I want to? Maybe just participate, make a few shots, nothing more.

I took a sip of rainwater from my flask. I didn't feel like fighting now, but I had to play out my role.

Listening to cheerful conversations, drowning in friendly laughter and wittily joking off unobtrusive dirty offers, I did not even notice how dusk had fallen. The time was approaching when, according to Baldy, at least some caravan should pass, and my soul was becoming increasingly worried. It is one thing when you enter a fight under fear of death, out of duress, and quite another when you yourself are going to deliberately become a participant in a shootout and murder, and it is unknown who will be left lying in a pool of their own blood this time.

It was like a lightning strike.

"They're coming! Rise and shine!" the bandit girl said in a commanding voice, "Baldy, quickly pack your rifle... you idiot, you found the time."

The bald one, who didn't seem to be the main one in this gang, looked at her with displeasure, ritually inserting some iron thing into the spring, and in a few seconds he raised a working (by the looks of it) barrel with magic. The others jumped up as if they had been shot, throwing the barrels over their backs, and strode out into the street one after another. I took my guns, put my bag on my back and followed them.

It was hard to trot. The shotgun weighed at least fifteen kilograms, and the bag weighed the same. Halfway there, barely noticing the strip of the "big road" in the distance, I fell a little behind everyone and, as unnoticed as possible, left the bag, clicking on the marker on the pipbuck in this place.

The raiders gradually began to slow down, and then they lay down on the ground, moving by crawling. I did the same, not even trying to look out from behind the back of the "forty-fifth" stallion.

“Three,” someone whispered.

"They're coming from Appleusa."

"Stop, there are four of them!.. I think there are children there. So, no one move, I'll do the talking."

The bald stallion rose to his full height and barked:

"Gentlemen, do you know what time it is?!"

"Good evening! I can't say, but I think it's time to sleep, - said one of the travelers, a stallion, I think."

"That's right! And since you're not sleeping, you'll have to pay."

"There are, like, more of us here than you, so give us everything valuable and..."

"We have nothing," the mare said, and her voice sounded familiar. Exactly! It's her! The same pony who... "Scu-um!" My heart sank. I felt small and guilty.

"Really? What if I find something to take from you?"

"Please, no. We've been through a lot... Our food is all we have."

"Whoa, whoa, well, there is something to give! Put the bag down, put it down, and what else do you have in your bag? Put it down on the road."

I shuddered all over. I felt that a little more and... I risked losing my temper and shooting my entire "team" right there, so I spat demonstratively, and swore loudly, and went back, hiding my weapon. Some people were puzzled by this action, but I was firm.

I wanted to have a distraction in battle. To fire a full clip of bullets at a living enemy and celebrate victory, but what is this? "What, excuse me, was that?"

I walked towards my bag, looking at the mark on the locator, empty-headed. I narrowed my eyes, opened the bag, making sure everything was in place, and turned around with disgust at the ongoing robbery, but something was wrong.

Extra marks appeared on the locator.

A group of too many, too many red marks, and all of them moving precisely in the direction of the growing squabble between the ambushed poor and my new raider acquaintances.

"Holy Celestia, patrol!!!" I peered into the darkness in the direction of the marks and saw their silhouettes. There was little time. No more than a hundred steps. I had to warn my people. Whatever they were, they were still friends.

Taking the guns off safety, I climbed onto the sunken vehicle, entered the S.A.T.S., and saw them immediately. Five fighters outlined in red, clearly well armed and trained, against a poorly organized, unsuspecting group of raiders. The outcome was predictable, and I was going to change it.

Having marked the central pony as a target, I launched the program. The canister shotgun clanged with white-hot steel, blazing with fire, illuminating both me and the entire area. The shot was so loud that it should have been heard even in the city, which was quite far away. Not particularly wanting to peer into the result of my attack, I took cover behind the car. Surprisingly, there were four red marks! "Was it me who did it? Now there are different chances, huh?"

As per tradition, I fired a short burst from the pistol blindly, without the aid of a spell or even looking.

The heated swearing among the raiders died down and was replaced by surprise, which quickly turned into understanding. "Bald had a pipbuck, he could have at least kept an eye on the locator!"

Shots rang out from our side and from the enemy's. The road was strewn with all sorts of rubbish, and the raiders who had scattered in all directions had probably already crawled behind the mounds of trash, like mice in holes. Someone was shouting, someone was cursing, and everyone who could was shooting.

S.A.T.S. picked up speed and now it was time to fire again. I took aim, but only after looking out a little, I saw that all four patrolmen had pipbucks! And by the way, they were no longer standing as targets in the open, but were lying down in a firing position, and it seemed that they were keeping me in their sights. This made me immediately hide back and lie down close to the ground. "Well, what can this piece of rust do? Only imitate protection."

Having loaded a new magazine, firing short bursts at the group of enemies, I hoped to at least help the "forty-fifth" and the others get out of there a little. The peasants had long since fled, taking their things, and ours, as one, lay down and continued to shoot back, although, surprisingly, the red marks began to move away and then completely disappeared from the locator and the shooting died down.

I wonder what my shot did to that patrolman that the ponies, confident of victory, decided to retreat? Probably pierced his vaunted body armor and helmet. Ha-ha!

Having made my way to the scene of the shootout, I found something interesting: a radio that was on! Someone must have dropped it. By the way, the body of the dead man was not found. It looks like his own people picked him up. A few short curses and something very curious were heard on the air. It seems that reinforcements were being gathered for the "thirty-eighth precinct".

There was a sign by the road: "38Km to Ponyville"

"Here?! Oh dear!"

Horrified, I turned off the radio and hid it in my pocket. It would come in handy.

I hurried to my people.

"They're yelling about reinforcements on the radio. They'll be here in the next five minutes! Run away!"

"Aaaaaar!! Bitch-a-a!!! It hurts so much, aa-a," Baldy screamed, curled up into a ball. "Kill me, please!!!"

"Stop raving, idiot!!! You just got shot in the leg!"

With the help of the pipbuck's backlight, I saw that the barrel he was hiding behind was riddled with three-bullet bursts, and one of his back legs was covered in blood like a raspberry syrup cake.

"Here, drink, and stop yelling. You will owe me."

Three more healing potions and I myself will be left with nothing.

The stallion awkwardly rose and, dragging his leg, trudged after us. After a minute of such limping, it was decided to carry him. Having handed his gear to his teammate, the black-skinned stallion dragged the poor fellow on himself. The wound on his leg had almost healed, but it was not enough to walk normally. If he became too much of a burden for us, we would have to abandon him, otherwise we risked all death. They probably sent four or more such patrols after us to definitely eradicate the "wasteland infection" from their borders. We did not need to be persuaded, it was enough that they all had pipbucks. What would happen next? Thermal imagers? And we were limited in ammunition, unlike that special forces. I only had thirty 10mm rounds left, which, by the way, still needed to be stuffed into the magazine. Although, there was still some decent reserve for the gun.

It was decided to go to the Forty-Fifth Stall, and how far we would cover during the night was not too important, the main thing was that we would already be far from here.

I turned on the radio and listened with pleasure to how they were looking for us, and how these conversations were becoming less and less distinguishable among the interference on the air.

I woke up in the dark. Trying to roll over, I threw someone's leg off me. "Oh, come on." There was a sour taste of something alcoholic in my mouth. I buried my face in the covers, feeling relief as the heaviness from my entire head gathered in my forehead.

Somehow getting to my feet and turning on the pipbuck light, I discovered that I had been sleeping in a bunch of drunk stallions, and judging by my general state of exhaustion, I hadn’t just been sleeping.

Someone muttered something sleepily about drinking. I turned around, looking at Legkaya, who was lying on the black stallion's belly as if on a pillow. His name was either Vlastelin or Venik. Something was running through my head at the sight of his sleeping face, scattered across the concrete floor. I tried to remember what had happened to me yesterday, but it was vague.

I remembered the running, the pain in my chest from exhaustion, the sweet cider, the tight hugs, and something else that was too... I don't know, special? To do this just like that, with new ponies I had never met before.

If we had such a fun time before going to bed, it's no wonder that no one stayed to watch us so that some creatures wouldn't eat us during the night.

I stretched slightly, coming to my senses, feeling my consciousness and strength returning, got dressed, took the gun, and, still swaying as I walked, tried to find a way out of this room. I was, apparently, in a multi-story building, because after leaving the corridor through the broken door I found myself on a landing with an elevator and stairs up and down.

I didn't want to go down. It was scary, and most importantly, it was quiet. So quiet that my consciousness began to invent sounds for the surroundings.

I stood up. Torn lattice doors, collapsed roof, and here I was... at the very top. Looking at the bottomless hole that started on the opposite side of the building and ended somewhere in the middle of the roof, I wondered how we even came up with the idea to stop here?

I read the latest pipbuck notifications, and the dry technical messages gradually began to tell the story of recent events. There was something about... "oh! Holy Celestia!" It was disgusting to even read such details. I turned off the monitor in disgust.

Next time, if they offer me a drink, I'll hit them straight away.

Sitting on the edge of the stairs, I just stared into the darkness. It was completely silent, and there wasn't even a breeze.

Pipbuck informed me that I had been sitting here for an hour, and I finally decided to go back. It would be much more peaceful to be in a stupid but unstoppable crowd of raiders than to be alone in this vast, boundless darkness, not knowing if enlightenment would ever come.

I put the shotgun on the wall on safety next to my SG, my bag was left there too, and I, right in the bulletproof vest ( “it’s warmer that way”) , lay down to the side of the doorway, next to the sweet couple. Having warmed up to them, I immediately passed out.

Waking up in the morning not the first, taking hold of the too light to the touch pistol-machine gun, I rummaged through my bag, not finding a single cartridge.

The bald man looked very cheerful and happy, as if he hadn't been drinking yesterday, as if it wasn't his leg that was dangling like a piece of meat. And the machine gun with an optical sight that he held on his chest was unfamiliar to me. I hadn't seen it before.

Without talking to anyone, guessing about " what kind of bastard took my bullets?" , I went down to the first floor. Right in front of the entrance to the building where we were staying for the night, a wonderful picture unfolded. Three fresh corpses lay scattered, obviously shot at point-blank range.

"Did I miss something?"

The earth pony, her bloody cloak torn apart by the hail of bullets, like herself, lay with a frowning face, a frozen grimace of pain, her face buried in the blood-stained asphalt. Not far from her lay an inverted, empty backpack. Noticing the small two-wheeled car, I immediately remembered the box of booze and chips that stood in our room. "Yeah, that fits in here."

I walked up to the gray stallion's body, touched his jacket with magic, and a terrible, tortured scream flashed through my mind, muffled by the roar of my submachine gun. That special sound that could not be confused with anything else was imprinted in my memory: the slap of tearing muscles and the cracking of bones as a hail of heavy ten-millimeter bullets reached their target. "I did it."

Now it's clear where my cartridges went.

I closed my eyes and said the words of the song:

— The rain will not step away before sun...

If there was someone nearby, I would never have started singing, I would never have shown myself weak, but there were only corpses nearby. Still singing, I knelt down near the broken window. A cold wind walked through my short mane. The submachine gun lay under the collar of my jacket. Although empty again, it was ready to work (it only needed to be loaded), waiting for its moment.

What will happen to me next?..

"Why are you so sad?" I turned around. Venik, "yes, that's his name," was addressing me. There was some understanding in his gaze, but even more determination. "Pull yourself together, Trash, we'll be on the boss's carpet today. We need to say something nice to him."

"It just feels weird. Ghouls or some other nasty thing will come to the dead. It's time to leave."

"And then I say, "We're just travelers, you can come in and spend the night with us," and then Khlamka sneaks up on me from the flank... chiki-briki and into the queens! There was a lot of shooting, but at least the evening, yeah, we had a blast!"

"Well, what happened next?"

"Am I the only one who remembers what happened yesterday?" Baldy cursed. "Okay, but this is the last time I'm telling this, and anyone who doesn't hear it is to blame: When Trash got drunk and started dancing with a shotgun, and then took her clothes off..."

Burning with shame, not wanting to hear the rest, I ran out into the corridor and up to the roof. "Phew, that's enough details for me."

Now that the iron clouds had lightened a little, there was a stunning view of a forest of houses like this one, many of which had long since fallen and crumbled as if from the wind, as if they were made of ashes.

I opened the pipbuck map and read the name of the city:

"Manehattan"

Having decided which way to go to the Forty-Fifth Stable, I closed the map and out of curiosity clicked S.A.T.S. To my surprise, the spell found its target! Far in the sky, a bird was flying, marked with a yellow outline. The chance to hit was 5%. Not bad for me. Perhaps I really learned to shoot during all my adventures in the wasteland.

I cancelled my aim and went down one floor, to where the collapsed roof lay in pieces on the floor, nailing down the already rotten furniture: tables, sofas, some cabinets... I opened one of them and coughed from the hundred-year-old dust. The remains of some clothes lay sadly at the bottom of the cabinet.

I dug around in it, sorting through the rotten scraps of fabric, and found a shiny chain with the symbol of Celestianity. It was a golden, four-pointed star, like the sun, with a silver moon nestled in its shadow. If it really was silver and gold, this thing was a very nice find.

Fastening it around my neck, lowering the star and moon under the collar of the armor, I felt hope that the goddesses were with us.

Having gone down one floor, I rummaged through the rooms in search of something interesting. The ceiling (which was also the floor of the floor I had just been on) looked completely rotten and sagged. I cautiously went out into the corridor and went down to the next floor. There was a technical room here, maybe for the elevator operators or someone else. The first aid kit was empty, the toolbox showed me only a hammer. "Why do I need it? To drive away admirers?"

"Hold on! The teacher is coming with a hammer..." I muttered. Then I heard voices from below. It seemed they were calling me. I hurried down.

"...and then we won't have to carry so much."

"What are you talking about?" I began. Baldy and Venik were standing next to the box of chips. "Oh, they're not heavy. Honestly, are you hungry? Yes? Then why not eat some carrots? We have a bag full of them, and the chips weigh much less."

"Well, you see..."

"Don't say that carrots aren't tasty. I recently ate a rat and I'm not complaining. They don't want to eat carrots, idiots."

I turned away and whistled, calling everyone to come. As we went down, someone was crunching carrots appetizingly. Someone was Bald. So appetizingly that I wanted some myself and snatched a couple of them from my bag, joining in the merry chewing, in which four mouths were already participating.

Walking through the door, stepping over the corpse of an earth pony, I wondered where they got it from. That it grew somewhere is understandable, but still, how? The earth is poisoned, the sunlight is not sunlight but some kind of evil joke, a dark parody, and all these horrors? Yesterday they were picking carrots in their garden, and then... they met us. How can you even tend a garden when... "my goddess Celestia, have mercy on me, a sinner"

Walking along empty streets, avoiding the emitting skeletons of cars, we made our way through the city.

Somewhere in the ruins, a single red mark was moving behind us, but after a while it fell behind and stopped. I determined that it remained where the corpses lay. Maybe it was a dog, or something else, too small, that it was afraid of us and did not come to the smell of the bodies that lay all night. "It's really strange. If I were a rat or a dog... oh, everything is not about rats." Thinking about rats and dead bodies in general, I looked at the bag of carrots. They were much tastier than meat.

"Wow, what is this?"

"Wow-what-is-this" Baldy called a huge wheel made of wooden stakes, tied together with torn rubber signs, placed on poles several meters high, forming a kind of gazebo, only without a roof, and, oh yeah! Did I mention corpses? There were corpses here too! Lots of them, all sorts, impaled on huge hooks that hung from the "ceiling" that was not a ceiling but rather another mockery.

This whole picture made me think of some kind of art. Contemplating THIS, the desire to get involved with those who built it suddenly disappeared. Now I understood why this thing was here - to scare away unwanted guests.

The locator was empty, apart from the six of us there was not a soul in the fifty meters of the city ruins, which was very pleasing. This was the outskirts, only four kilometers left to the "Base", and I guessed who was in charge here and why it was empty.

"Pony"

We decided to take a break. Not exactly to rest, but rather the opposite, we needed to figure out what to do next, what to say. I definitely needed to think. I was going to go down to the stall, where I (but not me) was clearly known as a dashing scout who had more than once emerged alive from an unequal battle. Khlamka must have an interesting past, and I wanted to figure it out.

Having said that I would stand guard, I moved away so that Baldy could not see me on the lum, and I did not see any of ours. Having opened the archive of records, I began to leaf through the standard digital names. Not knowing what to latch on to, I simply poked at the monitor, touching the number "2017.02.31/M/31/19". A hissing sound was heard from the speaker.

"If you're listening to this, Dipper..." the stallion's voice sounded, " ...then know that you're a freak! Because this is my pipbuck, and my diary..."

Listening to the insistent abuse directed at the eavesdropper, I turned off the recording and immediately turned on the next one. It featured a softer and clearly younger voice:

"I, Dipper Jr., solemnly promise to never touch someone else's pipbuck again... well, did you write it down? What else can I say?"

"You! You've ruined everything, I'll have to..." I turned off the recording. "Who even thought of recording this? This is pure garbage! No secret passwords, no secret ways to get into the Forty-Five stall... boring."

I turned on the recording that was nearby.

"She kissed me this evening. It was like a fairy tale!"

Then there was something about dancing and music, I even wondered if it was so easy to kiss a stallion in Stall Two? "I don't think so." All our guys were selfish and squeamish. Interestingly, these recordings were most likely made in Stall Forty-Five. It opened up an opportunity for me to dig into the history of the stall, which was very tempting. But now I had a more specific goal...

After clicking through a few more useless entries, I thought with my head and did the smart thing: I turned on the closest of the entries I had made.

"I haven't been feeling well lately. I should report on the radio, but..." this time it was Trash`s voice . You could hear how hoarsely she was breathing. "My hooves are shaking, not to mention the magic. I can't even set the frequency properly. It's good that the pipbuck has big buttons. Where can I get a dash? It would immediately feel better.

In general, for myself, otherwise this amnesia will shoot me in the head again: I learned something, and very important. The Brotherhood of Steel has stirred in the area of Stble Seventy-Second. There is no doubt that they took everything out, but that is not what I am talking about: judging by the radio broadcast, they got hold of the plans for the construction of the stallbles!

Ha-ha, assholes! They could have gotten them a long time ago. Everyone knows that there are copies in the Stable-Tech headquarters and in every ministry from Peace to Morality. All because they don’t see and don’t want to see beyond their own noses! They sit there like rats in a hole, playing training simulators, and practically never participate in real battles.

So, plans and a map of all the stalls at BS. What does this mean? We're screwed, girls. We need to prepare for defense or escape, I'll choose the latter, and I'll leave four hundred "accidental" bullet wounds for the heroes. Well, whatever you want, but I warned you."

Great, now I just need to pass this on as soon as I can. Come on, hhere should just be a dash in here somewhere...

The recording ended and the previous one started, but nothing was heard from the speaker except the chirping of night insects. Some grumbling and a yawn were heard? It seemed like someone was sleeping well...

*BOOM*

The bullet whistled right over my head. I jumped up in fright, and convulsively poked the S.A.T.S., twirling the shotgun in my hooves, watching as the spell singled out a black earth pony with a rifle on a battle saddle. She was standing a meter behind me!!! Without unnecessary panic, which could take away precious time, without words, I rushed to the side, inconvenient for a second shot at me, but even before the spell outlined the attacker with a grid with hit probabilities, I completely accidentally noticed that the outline and mark turned out to be green!

"Too late! Four-two in my favor," she said simply, brushing her thick bangs from her forehead to the side with a charming movement. "Start using the locator already, It took me a long time to get used to it, too, but it's really cool. Hey, what's wrong with you?..

"Everything..." I froze, watching her stare at me. She was in the Forty-Five Stable guard uniform. "Fine. Just tired."

"You look like crap. Listen, you need to drink and sleep. Stop traveling so far. Every time I feel like I'm seeing you for the last time."

The speaker drew level with me.

"But I need..."

"First you owe me, and then your "Need". Let's go quickly, if you don't want me to kiss you so dirty."

"Excuse me for what?" I need to listen to the recordings about this urgently. Any recordings at all.

Not forgetting about our friends, we very soon reached Stable Forty-Five. Or rather, the "Base" mark, where there was nothing but a wooden stall of an outdoor toilet. I tried not to laugh, or express any feelings at all, as I watched Blast, ( "Thank Celestia that Broom called her by her name!") climb into the stall, sit down on the toilet, and close the door.

"If you're new," Blast said, coming out of the restroom as the ground began to slide apart in front of us. "Remember: Always cover the sliding hatch with sand after you, or you'll get your ass kicked by me, and then by the patrol and hunters."

Walking down the corridor of the stall with two ponies, in the same uniform as me, leading the "newbies" behind me, I felt more than confident. Now I would sort out all the business here, and then I wanted two " p" : eat and sleep. The possibility of a third " p" confused me a little. I was not ready for this. In bed, I would definitely be found out and I would find myself in big trouble. A lot of questions would arise.

While a bunch of new recruits were tramping around on the carpet at the boss 's , the three of us were sitting at the bar and munching on fried potatoes. I didn't even have to speak, the conversation was happening without me, and very soon there were only two of us left. Me and Blast. Feeling a headache from trying to figure out what kind of relationship Junk had with Blast, I immediately grabbed my bag and happily handed Blast a couple of healing potions, like, it wasn't for nothing that I went... she seemed to thank me, but somehow became gloomy, and left, saying that she would be back soon.

The combat targeting spell knows no mercy. The computer doesn't care what or who is the target.

White teeth carefully held the glass neck of a bottle with raspberry healing nectar. "My last potion!" Small strong legs, illuminated by a yellow halo, drawn in a grid, rushed away, flashing between the tables. Sixty-eight percent... seventy-three... eighty... ninety-one... and here is a definite hit.

The bullet will enter under the front knee. It will tear the young joint and may even completely tear off the leg.

I cancelled the attack and lowered the gun.

"Goddess, I agree. Forgive my doubts."

"You little brat!!! Come on, give it back..." I shouted, rushing after him, pushing aside the surprised ponies. After running for about ten minutes, completely lost in the corridors, having already lost hope of recognizing his mark, I was about to leave, when suddenly I heard a quiet conversation.

"Here, drink this, it should help. Just please don't die."

There was just a pale unicorn lying on some sacks in the hallway behind some wooden boxes, holding her stomach with her legs. Her orange mane was tangled in clumps, and her dull turquoise eyes were so painful that I couldn't help but wince.

“Don’t be afraid... I won’t die,” said the mare, taking a sip of the magic potion. “And thanks for that, I feel much better now.”

The foal smiled and I cleared my throat, enjoying the way he flinched in horror.

"Actually, it's my healing potion! It's called stealing, buddy! It's very, very bad. You should think about your behavior..." I said sharply, and turned sideways, satisfied with what I had said.

But... then I realized who I was, what I had done lately, and where I was. The funny thing was that I was not addressing the foal, no, I was exposing myself with these words. I felt awkward.

"Don't be angry with Melon, I'll pay for this potion," said the unicorn, rising to her feet. She really did look... better. The barrel of some kind of rifle was sticking out from under her cloak. "No, I won't give it up. It's my soul, my love, and my life. Only the grave will separate us."

"I'll just have a look, okay?"

She snorted in displeasure.

"Don't you dare scratch."

I took the sniper rifle in a cloud of telekinesis, catching my eye on the optics, the smooth, polished barrel, and the well-oiled trigger mechanism. If you judge a pony by its weapon, this one was well-shod. I handed the rifle to its owner and thought about it.

"What happened to you? Why are you just lying here?"

"I ate the wrong mushrooms in the cafeteria. They mixed them up in food. I freaked out and broke the display case. Now I'll have to spend two months in the corridors, my room was temporarily... confiscated."

"Listen... would you like to come for a walk with us? As part of the payment for the potion, I'm asking you to give the recruits... and me, a lesson in gun care. Our boys think they're shooting from a bucket of bolts, and that needs to be fixed."

"With joy!"

"And here's another thing. Look what I have! You won't be able to tear yourself away, it's incredibly interesting," I lied, handing her the magazine "Sniper Weapons".

"Wow! It seems like I owe you even more now?"

“It turns out that yes,” I smiled, leaving without saying goodbye.

Having asked the mare to be in the same place this evening, pleased with the turn of events, somehow finding my way around the corridor map, I returned to the bar... or the dining room?

It was impossible to call such a noisy, disorderly room a canteen: Some of the lamps didn't work - everyone was in semi-darkness, heavy music was playing with indistinct, shrill singing. Everyone who was talking was cursing loudly every half word, and in the corner, on a bench, a couple of ponies, a stallion and a mare, as if no one was looking at them, were rubbing against each other just like... "oh my! They're having sex, but aren't they wearing clothes?"

Despite the fact that the two were dressed, they clearly... enjoyed this process... "Hmm..."

I noticed that I couldn't look at anything except the sweet couple, beating each other in oblivious bliss, and tried to distract myself by closing my eyes. After a while, making an effort, I turned away, opened my eyes and... saw a stallion who, having shoved the neck of the bottle into his mouth, as far as it was possible to put it, was gulping down beer.

And in general, everyone around was having too much fun that I felt disgusted.

While waiting for Blast, I bought another glass of hard cider, drank a little, and just tried not to think about anything.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you afraid of getting beaten, Junk?"

"A?"

"You! I'm talking to you! Did dash get high again?"

I blinked.

"What do you want?"

"You, you forgot, huh? You forgot this?" He came very close, burying the scar on his chest in my face. "It seems you don't need your filthy horn anymore, huh?"

“Listen, I’m sorry, let’s come to an agreement?” I began.

"Let's make a deal. Either you leave, or I'll fix your face! Don't you dare sit here like a pile of garbage when normal ponies are hanging out!"

I picked up my cider and started drinking. Suddenly there was a pop and something sticky fell into my mug and onto my nose.

There was his spit floating in my cider.

A split second would have been enough to grab the gun and end his life, but a fight between comrades is one thing, and murder is quite another. Besides, I want to get into character, right? If Junk owes him, he needs to work off the debt.

I stood up silently, and as if I was about to leave, turned around, hitting him hard in the ear. Maybe I should have cursed, to complete the picture, but the blow was enough, and the next second I was simply knocked off my feet. Many blows rained down from all sides, and I barely had time to parry at least half. It was especially painful when he hit the horn. This freak aimed for places unprotected by armor and the face.

Having withstood several blows from the side, I chose the moment and finally kicked him in the nose with my back leg, enjoying the crunch. The stallion simply went wild, and now I already regretted that I got involved in all this, but then a pile of muscles shielded me, pushing the enemy to the floor. Blast fought like a whirlwind, and in a few seconds the stallion accepted defeat and hid behind a crowd of ponies.

“Quiet, girl, control your blows,” said one of his comrades.

“Next time I’ll wear brass knuckles,” the black-skinned earth pony clanked.

"Leaving already? Go ahead, do your lesbian things," someone joked. "Or was he not joking? Oh, my mother Celestia..."

We walked down a corridor that was so full of things that I simply stopped paying attention to them.

"Here, drink." Blast handed me the healing potion I had recently given her. I drank it greedily, feeling relief in my eyes, chest, neck and all the other places that had gotten it. "We beat him up good. It was about time. The bastard had been bullying you from the moment you were taken into reconnaissance and he was shoved into reserve security. Do you remember? Or don't you even remember that?... In the name of heaven! Limey, what did dash do to you?"

Lime. The real name of Junk was Lime. Lime-Lime-Lump... that's how nicknames are made. They reflect the state of their bearer, exactly corresponding to him, and eventually become a real name.

Note: New level!

Darkened soul - you're a bad, bad pony! Do you like it? Lets do more!