Fallout Equestria: Ballad of a Rogue Ranger

Chapter twenty-seven: Consequence

I’ve had to deliver bad news before to a pony…

When no other her age would show up to Winters’ birthday party, it put her almost in tears, even after turning herself around. Those colts she called friends showed their colors then, but she still had myself and Lilac to attend and make up for it.

Reporting to the boss there was an issue regarding power distribution in one of the gatling conversions. Of course, I was told to find a way and make it work, but there was only so much one could do to a gun to get it to comply.

Telling Lilac that Winter had gotten in to another fight at school after I went and picked her up. The mare was upset naturally, but as far as Winter was concerned the other pony deserved it. My opinion? Well, they didn’t mess were her again after that, so it solved future problems at least.

But telling one a friend had been killed? That was a new field entirely, and with all the protection this suit gave. I still felt the tears of the mare punch me square in the chest. Alimite did as she said she would, and went with me to find Ashburn. The caravan worker had cleaned herself up well since last seeing her, but with us empty hooved finding her it didn’t take long to put two and two together.

Her muzzle buried itself into Alimites’ shoulder letting it all out, and all I could do was stand there like a rock. Ashburn and Tanker might not have been family in the literal sense of the word, but if you saw this from the outside looking in, you’d have thought she just lost her husband. Know a pony long enough they become family in the end, and having no blood between them doesn’t help the loss in any way.

That sentiment, I could understand…

“Did… you bring him back?” she asked over another stifle of tears.

“We did,” I nodded back to her, what more could I say past that? “He’s wrapped up in the medical hut.”

Her look didn’t soften at all, but at least it hadn’t gotten any worse. Somepony out of this would get closure, “Was it quick?” she started choking, “Did he suffer?”

For a split second Alimite shot me a glance, and I lied hiding behind the visor. “As much as it could be.”

With a tug, one mare picked the other up from her hooves, and Alimite lead her cohort out from the caravan station the town had set up. Now it was just myself, no daylight left after booking it to make it back with the colt, and my thoughts to keep my company… not a good place to be. I’d failed, plain and simple. There was another pony who was counting on me to come through, and they were snuffed out for looking up to that hope.

Beating myself up never went well alone, I needed a drink.

The lights strung up through town might have had half their bulbs missing, and with a slow flicker to the fluctuating power. Although never the less, it managed to light my path through the residential area of the town. After the days work, every pony had found their own way to spend an evening.

Some worked on their shacks, others tended to their small gardens, and even one colt kept working at that old jukebox from before I saw. This time around, it looked like it had its guts back inside. If it wasn’t for all the dirty faces, and myself in power armor. I might have just thought I’d gone back in time to when things all made sense.

A pony can dream, can’t they?

Besides the few other ponies milling about, I was alone on my walk about town. Even as I got to the section where everything was being stored, those guards that patrolled barely paid me any heed. About the only one that passed a nod my way was Walker. He’d probably heard about what happened by now, news travels fast after all.

The path way with the shops was also closed up for the night it looked. Shop fronts sealed with plywood, or just their counters empty of goods. Though even if the closest thing this place had to a bar was locked up, I knew somepony that had something to quench my thirst.

Where the lights to those shops were out, the workshop still had its lit up. Someponies never found sleep, and that’s what I was counting on. As I went through the door to the makeshift living room, I found who I needed. Winter might have been there looking over Mercy with intrigue, but the mare working on it had my full attention.

“Tumble…” her head perked up to meet me, “you still have that bottle?”

I ain’t never seen a mare light up that fast, you’d have thought I just proposed. Tumble shot up from the couch and went through the shop to our little hidey hole with an eager grin plastered across her. As she did, Winter just stared at me. She knew I didn’t have much of a soft spot for the bottle back in the day, and she also knew it’d only be for either special occasions, or if something was bothering me.

Can you guess which one she suspected? “It’s about Tanker… ain’t it?”

Totally called it, “Like mother like daughter,” I shook my head to her and made my way further inside. The armor was about as comfortable to me as any couch at this point, and right about now I didn’t feel like sleeping. “Before you say it…” I pointed out, and caught her mid inhale, “I know it’s not my fault, already had that told to me.” Technically…

That smile told me everything, she knew who gave me that lecture, “So then what is it?”

Well… how would you summarize this? Bringing the wrath of an entire wasteland group down on a pony who I didn’t even know, and didn’t deserve it. Then failing to live up to their expectation of you, all when they needed it the most.

“Regret, I would say…” yeah, that sounded about right, “the gunners didn’t need to kill him, but she did because he was counting on me.”

Almost as fast as she left, Tumble came back in the room with that whiskey in hoof, and a gleam in her eye. After an honorary swig of her own, the neck was held out to me. Whelp, it smelled better than what I had in the bar way back when… but damn did it taste the same! Another swig or two down didn’t help any, and just left me hoofing the bottle back over to its owner.

Winter didn’t partake, instead she stuck to her side of the couch and looked as if she was pondering those words. Even when offered, the mare waved it off with a hoof. “You regret not doing more to help em?” gee you’d think that’d be obvious, apparently it took the blank stare from my open visor to drive that point home, “I mean from Tumbles’ account, it sounded like you gotten beaten to the punch.”

“That’s only half of it…” now some of the words were starting to come together, hopefully they’d make sense, “I’d never meant to go hoof to hoof with the Gunners, nor did I mean to kill the sister…” just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Okay, I could go for another taste, and Tumble was more than happy to oblige. She must have gotten a new bottle at some point; there was no way with how the mare was slinging this back the original had lasted this long.

“And now you have, and you’re regretting what you brought to the door step,” Ain’t you spot on with that one? I wasn’t used to the little trouble maker I once knew, now trying to give me some heart-to-heart advice. Guess ya mature a bit when you have a kid of your own. A steady nod from over the neck was enough to answer, “Whelp, as much as it might suck to say… what's done is done.”

Maybe not the best of advice, “Really? Just like that?” I asked, and instead I got one nod in return.

“You kicked a hornet’s nest,” or shot it to pieces, that’d be more appropriate, “and even if those hornets died out, you’d still have some regret of what you could have done differently… and for what they might do in the future,” alright, that sounded better after she explained it.

Regret wouldn’t un-shoot some gunners pinning a mare down, it wouldn’t put a library back under their control, or for that matter have gifted Barrel wings in her time of need. Maybe if I bit the dust during a few of those engagements it might have quelled their thirst for vengeance, but then I’d just be another body claimed by the wastes.

Plus, who would be around to clean up after the gunners in the future? The Rangers certainly weren’t doing a good job at it. No matter what their intentions might come off as. Suffice it to say, somepony had to be the one in their sights. I was just the lucky pony to be it, and one thing was for sure…

“I’m doubting there’s a way to smooth things over with the gunners?” ya know, besides having me six feet under. If the two out of three siblings were anything to go off of, they weren’t the most negotiable bunch. Lock seemed to call the shots more than anything, and she wanted quality time alone with me.

The clatter of a bottle drew my attention away, and Tumble about slammed the near empty glass on the makeshift table. “I outta smack you for even thinking that,” well you can probably forgive me for at least asking, “The gunners are still pissed, and they’ll take it out on any pony with a soft spot for ya… so how do you solve this problem?” she paused, and I already saw the grin starting to grow across her face, “the wasteland way.”

I.E… kill em before they get to me. This wouldn’t be as simple as blowing a pier to high hell. The gunners probably had a fort built up over the years, and one I hadn’t the slightest clue to where it was. I’d gotten lucky with Tungsten giving me a location to go off of for the rangers. Though there’s no way there’d be a sympathetic gunner ready to lend a hoof. No, this would take some planning, coordination, skill… and…

‘Music?’ I felt my ears perk up from the back of the helmet at the tunes.

A quick check to by PB told me the radio was off, but I wasn’t hearing things. Both the mares got up from their seat and followed me to the door. Winter tagging right alongside me, with Tumble cradling the remains of her drink. That was music alright, sounded like something I’d heard from the DJ. Though this sounded a bit different, not traveling across the airwaves grainy, but coming fresh from an old record.

It was enticing to hear the old classical dance music in full swing, literally given the beat. Like moths to a flame, the three of us waded out the door and towards the streets trying to find the source. Something that seemed to gather the attention of many others as well while we made our way near the town center. The closer I got, the louder the music became, and I caught a view that had to be a rarity in the wastes… ponies actually smiling.

The widest of them had to be from the colt responsible. Soft Note looked mighty proud of himself beside the jukebox, as the machine dealt out the tunes from a day long since past. Playing the right music could put any pony in a particular mood. Smooth and melodic was perfect for studying, rapid and hard more than enough when it came to getting pumped up… or shooting each other. Though this set all those around us at ease, and brought out a few from the crowd to the center.

I can’t recall the last school dance I went to, but the dancing there couldn’t have been as bad as some of these ponies. Although, after almost two hundred years, I think you could forgive them. I was the last one who should be talking any who. While I laughed to myself however, that didn’t stop a few more ponies from town joining in with one another.

It wasn’t any special occasion to my knowledge; the colt just finally got the machine up and running. That seemed to be enough for these folks. As barren as some of the wastes could be, at least this little snippet had some life in it still.

From past those making up the middle, I saw that familiar heft peeking over top as Riff made her way through the crowd. The hellhound looked about as confused as I’d imagine half the ponies were meeting her for the first time. Yet, even while she made her way closer to those she knew a bit better, I caught her tail flickering to the beat.

“Why ponies make fool of selves?” really? Somehow, she knew the ins and outs of baking enough to know what a cookie cutter was, but not dancing.

“It’s what they do best,” Deacon answered coming up to myside, or more particularly Tumbles.

Couldn’t argue with that one, we were mighty good at screwing ourselves. “It’s called dancing you two,” Winter stifled a snicker out from underneath her breath, but I knew her tells all too well, “and it’s doing exactly what Soft Note hoped it would.”

Also, couldn’t argue with that. The ponies around me looked genuinely happy to finally have some music in their lives, and not just from a radio. I got to hear the melodious sound of not only music, but quite a few towns folk laughing it up with one another while they swung to and froe. A few off on the side sharing a drink with others as they mingled in their own little world. Plus, I got to listen to the protesting of a gryphon and mare while they were unceremoniously pushed towards the group of ponies.

Ahh… such peace in a place like this.

“Pick, mare dance with turkey, or dog will,” Riff just had to flash her teeth for Tumble to seize up.

Yet, only for a moment. A half second later, whatever was left in her bottle went down that gullet as her hooves grabbed hold of the gryphons’ talons, and I could almost see him trying to flutter away as they were lost in the crowd. It’s amazing what someponies will do with the right amount of liquid courage in their system, something that I was nowhere near testing out tonight.

Armor wasn’t the best thing to try and be nimble in, so instead I found myself a nice quiet corner of the square to kick my feet up. More accurately, lean against. The makeshift porch to the shack was enough for me, I’d rather just stand back and watch. Riffs’ tail kept its flickering, but the hound didn’t dare join in, smart move. As for the other two, every so often I saw the peak of Deacons’ wings poke up over the crowd as he found his footing.

Winter seemed to follow my lead, and whoever owned this shack was more than providing with the worn-out rocker in front. The mare didn’t need to say anything, she knew where I was coming from, and together we just watched all those younger folks enjoy themselves… I can call them that, right? At least a few in the crowd I could, Spade was about as out of place as Riff, but like a hen she stood off to the side watching the pack of youth milling about. Maybe a hawk was more to her stature.

Speaking of younger folks…

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Alimite worked her way over, and plopped down on her flank between us, “it’s a wonder he ever got that thing working.”

“Gave him a hobby there for a bit,” Winter followed up.

Although if she was here now… “Where’s Ashburn? Is she doing alright?” I looked past the way she came, but even then, I couldn’t make out the mare.

Alimite softened there a moment, “as good as can be expected, she’s saying her last goodbyes in medical… I wanted to give her some space,” across her face I saw that weak beam. Not one of joy, but instead of closure. At that moment I was glad we managed to get him back here with somepony he knew. Far better than what end the other raiders met. Though a nudge brought me out of those thoughts, “now… why aren’t you out there?” she asked probably trying to change the subject.

Couldn’t blame her for the attempt, in this part of the town there were ponies happy with their lives, and in another part was one pony saying goodbye. My eyes trailed over the group that assembled, and amongst them I could still make out the rather feverish faces from two of my friends. They were embarrassed, but they weren’t stepping out either… I’d just have to take that first step, one I never would.

“Let’s just say-”

“He’s nervous to,” Winter jumped my gun and cut me off, and although she couldn’t see it there was a scowl under this visor for her. As if by instinct her tongue shot out at me, “didn’t dance when he was in school, and never really took it up after that… feels awkward on the floor.”

Didn’t really fit in my skill set either. I could design weapons of war, modify suits of armor, and alter arcane matrixes out the wazoo. Ask me to try and feel the flow of music and move with it? Just shoot me now, and save yourself the trouble. That was one chink in my-

“I can’t blame ya,” … What? Alimite caught my expression through the visor, “I never learned myself, and it’s not something you’d do often out here,” strange, you mean that skill would have nothing to do with basic survival? Unless you shot to the beat like I had, “all that said… now that Soft Notes’ got that thing working,” why was her smile growing? And why was I getting warmer in here? “I wouldn’t mind sometime, with the right partner.”

Yep, definitely hot in here now! Somewhere between mouth, and brain there was a mix up. So instead of a response, all she got in return was a low gasp as I tried to catch my breath. Winter seemed to be in good spirits watching my fumble, and her daughter followed suit with the snickering.

“Assuming I can pry ya out of that thing, again,” Alimite winked, and once again I was so glad the rangers didn’t have her on their side.

So, risk a mare pulling me out of this suit to try and tango sometime? Or go willingly for the hell of it… did I have to weigh this decision? “Oh… I might take ya up on that offer,” okay that shut her up for a moment, and together we kept our place at the porch.

And every so often I could feel the light prat of some dogs tail against the shack. Admit it or not, Riff was enjoying the tunes. I didn’t imagine there was much to listen to down in those tunnels. If she was enjoying it, then it was just a matter of time before…

“Why Wild not make fool of self?” Called it.

“Nope…” I glared back at her. Show me that grin all you want, it doesn’t work on me Riff. Another mares’ glare found my visor, and I saw her lips starting to curl, something I was having a hard time saying no to, “At least not-”

Something forced my ears up, and I stood there scanning the darkened sky and area beyond. It could have been a trick of the music, it could have been somepony dropping a piece of metal, it could have been a number of things… but I knew that sound from somewhere.

Winter hadn’t been paying attention, her eyes were still on those listening to the tunes. Riff and Alimite however had all eyes on me, and they knew something was buzzing through my head. “Wild? What is it?” Alimite asked to my side, looking up at the sky with me.

That muffled clunk didn’t sound like a gunshot, even with a suppressor. Though it sure as hell didn’t sound like anything natural. No, this was different, something my brain was trying to go through the entire M.W.T. listing of shit I had a hoof in to place it. Gunpowder all sounded the same, just got louder the bigger you went, and energy weapons you could usually tell by the color they gave off.

But sound was the only thing to rely on when it came to one thing, “IF-95…” Mortar, my throat clenched half a second too late.

Then the first shell hit.