Chapter five: DIY Power Armor

“Let’s see…” my mind raced as it looked at all the error messages from the suit. It was a piece of junk sure, but it was my junk. Something that I understood from a by gone era in pony engineering. If I held on and treated it right, then who knows? Maybe it’d turn out well for me.

“What would work with this,” I asked myself as I looked at the screen.

Power Armor was a complex machine in its own right, one that usually required a dozen ponies to craft all working together towards one goal. Then again, some parts could be shoehorned in if need be… what’d you expect? War was expensive after all, and there was always some equine trying to save a bit.

‘Okay, why not start here?’ I noted as the map screen of the armor went through my vision and placed a marker on the warehouse in question.

Someplace I knew existed during the war that dealt in the armors manufacture, or at least components. Having some knowledge of the country before the war might just work to my benefit. Although how much of it would be left the same? Most of the stuff I’d need would probably have been scavenged already, or broken over the years. One thing was for certain in the bleakness that made my surroundings…

Things had changed, and they had changed drastically.

Ponies were murdering one another left and right in the street, and for what? Hell I just walked out the door to my stable and almost got put down by a mare high off her flank, there wasn’t even a thing on me of value!? No matter what had changed, I had a task now, or two of them. First of which was to get this suit back up and running to its fullest, or at the very least the best I could get it. That or die trying… hopefully not.

“Oh, hello,” a mechanical voice projected ahead of me.

Honestly, I hadn’t been paying much attention, being in a suit of armor kind of leaves you feeling a little invincible really… even with the bullet holes that dealt Rogue in. As such, blindly walking in this world my helmet smacked into the hard casing of the bot there before me. Strange though really, Sprite Bots didn’t normally talk to individuals now did they.

“Ahh… hi-ya!” I blurted after it righted itself from the impact. Really how am I supposed to know who might be controlling this thing? “Not quite sure how you’re supposed to greet others in this day.” Usually, it seemed to be with shooting first, and talking later.

The floating bot paused for a moment as it releveled itself and took me in. How much of a threat could a stable pony be after all, power armor or not? Then again, how much of a threat were these little drones of a bee hive given a metal form? With its gentle grace, the floating orb of pandered around me on the road and took in everything I could fight back with. I knew they weren’t designed for combat, let’s face it, a well-armed foal could drop one using a BB gun.

Yet, it stopped as it examined me. “You’re all alone?”

“I’m the only one on the road, so I suppose I am,” I gestured to the empty asphalt behind me, “why? Were you expecting more?”

“Usually Steel Rangers travel in groups, seldom do they let their brothers go on their own,” the bot spoke as it floated there in place.

That’s why the curiosity, “not a Steel Ranger, the names Wildfire,” yeah, as if that namedrop was supposed to clear anything up. “I helped a few of them in a bind, and the leader of that group gave me a bone.” My legs held out, showing off the armor that was bestowed upon me.

The bot stayed silent for a few more seconds… and a few more after that. “That’s kind of… surprising,” it about gasped at the prospect, “I would have expected them to strip you for everything shiny you carried.”

Granted Crusader Cutthroat back there sounded like he would have loved to, but that couldn’t be all the rangers… right? “What do you mean?” the question lingered as the metal bot floated there, “the rangers were war hardened veterans, they might have use of some tech… but to really strip it from other ponies?”

Sure, I was a civilian in a suit of power armor that was destined for military use. That was out of the ordinary, granted. Then again, things couldn’t have gotten that bad while I was asleep… could they? I lightly grabbed hold of the sprite bot as it bobbed there in the air and brought its sensors to my visor.

“How much has really changed in this world?” I asked, and all the bot could really give me is a mechanical sigh.

“You aren’t from around here, are you?” It asked, as if almost knowing the answer already, “the rangers aren’t what they used to be, that’s for sure.” That sigh this time almost sounded like they knew what they were beforehoof. “They harbor technology more than ponies’ lives, and if you get in the way of that, then so be it… you’re just a few wasted rounds to them.”

So, the heroes that I had known from many years past, now were reduced to what? Wasteland thugs? “So, a lot had changed…” I sighed as I let go of the bot, sure whoever was controlling it probably knew far more than me. This wasteland was its own world, and I was a mere guest, “…any advice for a blind mule like myself?”

“With you all alone that bit should be obvious for you,” my silence beckoned just a bit more of a push in the right direction, “…make some friends,” it said in that mechanical voice, “Though I’d steer clear of other rangers if I were you, they may not be so welcoming to see you in their armor.”

“I figured that much…” it was just a piece of armor, then again in a world like this It could mean the literal difference between life and death, “although, I’m looking for someone from my stable…” I watched as the bot stayed there and floated in place, “do you know which way to the nearest actual town, somewhere I’d be able to learn a few things from.”

“Of course… stable pony,” that probably explained the ignorance. A few seconds later and the bot answered, “I’d say try Drybank,” it voiced as it started to break up in static, “the ponies… are… decent… th-”

With a pop of its circuits and a fizzle, the bot started bobbing to a trumpet on the road. Looking down the pavement, I saw the bot go on and on, all on its own. So maybe whoever gotten control of it didn’t have total control. It is what it is. With a hoof raised I looked to the marker I had place and started moving towards it.

Ironshod warehouse and saw another pop up further past it, Drybank.

***

The warehouse itself may not have been anything special in its own right. Brick building, a few broken windows, and of course… probably a dozen skeletons littered out in the lot as you would approach. Though the rounds coming from it made it seem as though those inside were guarding the key to Equestria! My armor reflected some of the shots that spewed from the rifles, but never the less they still dinged up the plating pretty well.

Armor integrity: 55%.

With a few dodges and dives, I rolled in to the building… or more so crashed through a loading bay door. With the repair system out of commission, I’d have to be careful. The armor might give me protection for now, but it still had its own limits out in this world. The bulk of the armor stood against the wall as I heard the other occupants of the building stand by and get to their places.

Raider Waster, it popped up in my E.F.S. from the suit, as the stallion let lose another shot from their rifle. How did they have different ranks? Who even decided that? After all they seemed to still be mostly armed with low caliber .38s or tire irons for crying out loud! Never the less, with the bars staying put for now I turned and started my own assault.

The carbine ripped in to those that got a little too careless, 5.56 rounds dealing more damages than any 10mm could ever hope to do. Leaving me to pick and choose my targets as they presented themselves. From the random head that popped out of the cover, to the occasional target that tried to get a shot off or two at me, or ones that tried to get to a better position.

From what I gathered Raiders had to have been the bottom of the food chain in the wastes. Their rounds may have not punctured, but they still did some damage sure. Then again, I got about as much damage from an average baseball- the smack of something a little heavier threw me off as I rolled there on the ground.

Looking up, I saw the raider with a rather confuddled work of art. The rocket engine at the back of the sledgehammer would have been a crazy idea back in the day… of course just my luck there still seemed to be some who had some crafting skills of their own! With another slam the head of the hammer dented my torso plate as the mare holding the monstrosity of hardware tried to go through it. My chest cavity was not supposed to feel like that… A buck from my legs later and the mare skidded back against the wall, giving me some breathing room as I got back to my feet.

Another swing of the hammer later and I’d probably need some dentist, seriously! How could a mare this size swing- … yep those chemed out eyes of hers already answered my question. Her pupils had to have been the size of needles. Why did I always have to get the drugged sorts in my travels? Judging by the meat sticking out between her teeth, she’d been eating well too.

Wait… was that pony fur!

With the mare lunging at me once more from her crazed rampage my hind hooves slid across the ground, narrowly missing the swipes of hers. S.A.T.S. clicked on, and in that trance, I threw a few more rounds her way. The carbine let rip several shots in to her torso and tore through to the other side in slow motion.

A drop of her flank later after the spell wore off, and the mare looked at me with almost a question of why upon her brow. Shortly the rest of her body fell to the floor. So, no automatic healing, and no armor repair… and breathing was not supposed to hurt like that. With the back to some cover, I popped the visor up and fished out a potion, glad to have my ribs slowly being mended in to place.

With my guns locked and loaded, I ran up the stairs that dotted on the side of the storage floor to where a majority of the bars held firm. There those raiders picked their shots from, and turned their attention towards me as their rounds tore in to the armor with blinding speed.

It took a few shots, but after a time I still felt the rounds dig in to my skin. Even under the armor that I wore, they went to work on it all the same. With every shot I fired, four more hit me back and dug in to the plating. The error signals I was getting started to litter the screen of the armor as it piped up in needs of repair.

Armor integrity: 49%.

‘Yes, I get it, you’re shot… so am I!” I groaned talking to the machine while pressing on.

Only a few more to go, and I spotted a rather careless barrel sticking past a doorway to an upper room. The AMR tore through the wall and into the pony past it, dropping him to the ground and letting me run past the body without a second thought of stepping through his viscera. The numerous other raiders there present still popped shots off at me while I went, and cleared room by room.

With a thud, one very brave or very stupid pony leapt through an observation window to the main room, and planted both their hooves to the shoulder plating. I might have heard their forelegs snapping from the impact, but even with that injury they still pressed on and tried to swing at me. The carbine may have been the best thing I could use at this range, but long barrels just weren’t the best close hoof. A few of my rounds hit home, but whether or not it was chems or just adrenaline, this stallion didn’t let up.

A clench of their hoof later by my own, and I held on long enough to bring the helmet back. Normally no one wins in a headbutt, then again, an armored head against soft flesh is always a blessing. Metal met flesh in the middle, and somewhere between bone started to break. Slumping down to one side, his eyes started to roll back in their sockets as something on the inside gave way. Letting me focus on the few shots that were being taken at me still.

I’ll have to admit, I never had a knack for fighting. A scuffle here and there in school was one thing, but this? I was quite literally shooting from the hip in most of these encounters! Hell, if I didn’t have the armor, I’d probably have been dead in the first day after encountering the rangers. Even if it had a number of things wrong with it, Rogues’ suit was holding up like a champ!

Armor integrity: 42%.

Warning: Front right servo damaged!

I just had to open my damn mouth! A pop to my side caused part of my leg to drop under the weight. Picking it up, I tried to flex the joint in and around, but with a resounding crunch I knew something had finally given way. If you threw enough .38s at something eventually you’d come out on top. With a hobble the bulk of the amor managed to get into a corner office as I took a much-needed breath. The few bars that remained moved about from the rooms I hadn’t reached yet… was it just me, or were they getting-

Three metal apples through a window stopped any other thought, and forced me to kick the heavy wooden desk over top them. It wasn’t enough to stop the entire blast sure, but it was enough to keep me from becoming mincemeat… I just had to ride the blast wave. Half of me remained in that office, and the other half burst through the drywall to the next room over.

It was from there I learned two things. One, armor on the rump of these suits weren’t the best, the small burning from the shrapnel in my ass gave that away. While two, using a helmet in a headbutt was effective, using it as a battering ram… eh, not so much. With little Celestias dancing in my vision I finally managed to look up, to a few very surprised looking ponies.

Throwing caution to the wind for the sake of self-preservation, I clicked the carbine on to full auto and before they even managed to raise their own arms a healthy amount of lead found its home. Those remaining bars that I met all fell to the ground in heaps of disarray. Some with a few holes in them, and a couple others looked barely recognizable as anything equine from the high velocity rounds.

My head slumped to drywall as I shook the helmet, they must have tossed in those grenades and wanted to flush me out. “Just flushed me in the wrong direction…” I pulled out another healing potion to answer the burning in my skin from the several pieces of shrapnel that still made it though.

With one good powered hoof, the rest of the armor pushed through the wall and scanned around the room once more. Didn’t seem to be anymore bars, and judging by the very eerie silence and lack of someone shooting at me. I’d have to guess that was the last of them. Good thing too, the suit was starting to get on its last leg… or at least last three.

Armor integrity: 33%.

I still wasn’t sure if that constant reminder in my face was going to be a blessing, or a curse to know how much I’m getting my ass kicked… these were the lower rungs of thugs too, how would I fair against something more threatening?

I’ll get the snot knocked out of me later to learn that, for now, looting time. Each of the bodies that I went to had something on them, whether it could have been of use to me I wasn’t sure. A few Bucks here, an extra 5.56 round there… they weren’t even shooting with that?! Overall, nothing super special. Even their few pipe weapons or the occasional combat rifle had a value mark to it, maybe if I could find someone to trade with, I could come out with a profit.

Back in the main area a groan of the suit left the back hatch opening up, and I slipped out. Finally, able to get a better look at what I had to work with when it came to… yep there really shouldn’t be that many bullet holes in a suit of armor!

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ it felt normal to weep for a machine really, all the time and effort that was put in to them. You had to admire the hoof work in their creation, so to see it take this much of a beating, it hurt like seeing your kid get beaten up at school.

Scavenging around I managed to pick up a few pieces of scrap metal here and there. A small ding or dent was easy enough to fix with just the suits metal, but something this substantial I’d need the extra scrap to go along with it. Spent fuel canisters, a bucket or two, and a set of combo wrenches missing more than a few later, and with a little help from my horn the plates had at least been partially put back together.

After a quick connection from my PB I went over the system, Armor integrity: 72%. Still scratched up sure, but they’d stop a bullet once more.

As I lifted up the leg section, I took a closer look at the barring on the inside. There neatly stuck between the two surfaces, was the mangled remains of a .45 round lodged inside that locked them up. A tug of my horn later and I held the round there in front of me, “All that trouble, because of you,” unceremoniously the round found itself a home amongst the other trash in this place. A few bends of the limb told me that it was still in working order… for now.

It was about as good as I’d be able to get it, for not having a full workshop to set up in. The bodies of those that tried to kill me already looted, brought me back to the real question and reason I stopped by here… what else did this place have to offer?

Much of the place had been looted long before I came out of the ice it seemed. Sure, there was a lock box here and there that might have had something good in it, but lock picking wasn’t in my skill set. One thing that did catch my eye was the crate with the three pink butterflies on side. It wasn’t a typical medical box, no this one was shipping something.

Taking one of the tire irons that not too long ago tried to cave my head in, the lid popped off with a crack of the wood as the rusty nails gave way finally. There inside… oh! It could have been Hearts Warming Eve for me!

The pump fitting had the connections I was more than familiar with, and absolutely something I could work with. A near gallop in my step found myself once again at the armor, as the side control panel opened up with a twist from my horn. There a similar chemical pump resided, albeit a heavily damaged one.

A tug from its various plugs pulled the damaged one out, and all too eagerly I slid the replacement in. Lining up the injectors with their ports through careful application of my horn. With a familiar glow the suit recognized the attachment, and started going to work setting it up… matrixes were a wonder of technology. Really can you blame the rangers for wanting to safeguard it?

Digging through my bag, I put what healing potions I had in to the slots of the pump, along with the Med-X, Buck, and Rad-away… still, there were a few more spots I could fill in. ‘Dash… and Stampede,’ add it all to the shopping list. They might send my body on a whirl, but in a pinch, they’d probably save my life too.

The crack of thunder outside alerted to me just how much time had passed, it was getting dark out, and who knows what goes bump in the night now. From the ceiling overhead there must have been a leak, and with that a steady stream started to pour over top my head and mane. Besides being the closest thing, I’ve had to a shower in over a century. A few steady clicks from my Pip-Buck told me another thing.

Rain was apparently radioactive now… of course it was.

My armor set up on the ground floor, and I managed to find a tarp to drape it over top. Making me a rather handy makeshift tent, as I snuggled up underneath the covering and right next to my armor trying to stay clear from the toxic water. With a heavy sigh, my head leaned back against the cold metal. I got a pump from this trip, so that was a start.

Then again even with my eyes trying to stay shut, how can any creature sleep with this kind of a monster storm?

I brought my Pip-Buck up to me and scanned through some of the files I had pulled from 100. Most of them were corrupted sure, but if there was any way to pass the time, and to try and bore me into falling asleep it was working on matrix data.

After popping a RadSafe to keep the ticks of my meter down, I found myself there trying to work on figuring out what went so wrong to my ice box.

Footnote: New Perk: “Warm Fuzzy Feeling…”- Thanks to your armorer skills, and some lucky scavenging, your suit can now supply you automatically with various combat drugs and potions to keep pressing the fight.

Author's Note

I know someone will complain about him getting something on the suit fixed that fast, bear with me... I played FO4 mostly, and this took a lot of inspiration from that. If you touched the game, then you know you get perks pretty quickly in that. I apologize if it might not be to your liking, but it's just what I did. I still try to balance it in later chapters.