Fallout Equestria: Marejave

by ArtieStroke

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Comedy, Adventure, Crossover, Gore
Length: 5665

My own little side-story to KKat's masterpiece

Out west, past the settlements of Old Appleloosa is the Marejave; an inhospitable wasteland, even before the megaspells hit. Ponies try to survive out in the western wasteland, as two factions fight each other in a war long since over. And all the while, the mysteriously unscathed city of New Pegasus stands as either a beacon of hope for pony kind, or the last death throes of a dying world. This is the story of Natascha Nightwing; a griffon courier for the Marejave Express. What started out as a simple delivery for her, took a turn for the worse...

Published 2012-09-09 04:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-20 04:18:48 UTC

Introduction

Author's Note: So, you've decided to read my little fic here, eh? Thank you! Now, while the prologue may be very similar to the very beginning of New Vegas, I promise: This is NOT just a copypasta plot from the game. I just decided to start out with the familiar. By chapter one, you'll see that this is gonna have a lot of differences. Well, don't let me keep you waiting! Onward, fair readers!

Introduction

Let me tell you a little something about couriers.

When you need something delivered, back in the day they used pegasi for the most part. Makes sense, right? Flying's much faster than making a delivery by hoof. But, seeing as how those bastards closed up the clouds, there aren't many down here anymore.

Which is, obviously, why the Marejave Express employs griffins as couriers. Not only do you get the benefits of winged travel, but come on! Who wants to mess with something that looks like it eat's ponies for breakfast?!

Apparently, this ass didn't get the message.

No, strike that. I knew a few donkeys. Calling him that would be an insult to all of ass-kind.

So here I was; hog-tied on the ground, with some mook digging my own (and uncomfortably shallow) grave right in front of me. It was just a simple delivery, a piece-of-junk knick-knack. Why this feather-brained unicorn with a shitty taste in jackets wanted it so much beats me.

Literally. The fight before they took me down was pretty epic, with me valiantly fighting off at least two...dozen raiders. Yep, two dozen. No less. Too bad you didn't see it. Your loss.

The buffalo chick digging my grave tossed out her shovel.

"Alright, Chip. Let's get this over with! I wanna get paid!"

The earth pony merc to the left nodded in agreement, playing with his blade. The unicorn glared, "Hold your horses, there. Maybe you Hoove's kill ponies without lookin' them in the face," He said, checking the load on his revolver, "But I ain't a fink. You gotta show some respect, ya know?"

Respect? Right, shooting me point blank while I'm tied up on the ground is respect. I'll make sure to add that as an entry in my dictionary, around the time I get to putting your face next to the definition of 'Shithead'.

The unicorn click the barrel back into place, "Well kid, looks like you've made your last delivery," He sighed, "From where you're standing, it must seem like a fourty-two carat run of bad luck."

Great. I was about to be killed by the type of villain they used to put in hatchling's comics. Just shoot me and save the monologing for later, will ya?

He chuckled, holstering the weapon. Wait, what?

"Truth is? This game's been rigged from the start."

And that's when the shovel came crashing down over my head.

I can tell ya this, I did not expect my death to have some sort of twist ending like an Muhnite Shaman novel.

Footnote: New Trait- Wild Wasteland: You have been to the other side of the veil, and that changes a pon- er, griffin. Oddities of the Wastes are now more attracted to your afterlife-touched soul.

Fallout Equestria: Marejave

Prologue: A Kick to the Head

Prologue
A Kick to the Head
"You know I once tried to measure my charisma on one of those Vit-o-matic testers? Darn thing lit up like a Fourth of July firework."

Pain.

Not the 'Fuck, I drank way too much last night' pain. Nor the 'Why the fuck did I get into that bar-fight?' pain.

Not even the 'Holy hell I've been shot full of holes and I'm gonna fuckin' die!!!' pain (don't ask). This was a pain crafted by some unholy, evil little shit that rested right between 'night after alchohol poisoning' and 'non-anesthetic labotomy' who's sole purpose was to make me the most miserable griffin in the Wasteland.

Must be a Tuesday.

My stirring must've gotten somepony's (great, my boss' pony semantics are starting to rub off on me) attention, as a hoof came down on my head and a voice said, "Whoah, easy there. You've been through quite a bit, try to take things slow."
I cracked open an eye. Sitting next to me was an older stallion with a pretty awesome moustache, holding one of those stetho-whatsits to my breast.

I let out a weak, weezing laugh, "Heh, not even gonna take me to dinner first?"

The old unicorn raised an eyebrow, "Well, whatever head trauma you experienced certainly didn't affect your sense of humor," He tapped a part of my head, "That'd be right about there."

I grunted, "Still tender..."

"Sorry about that," He said, taking off the stetha-thingy, "My name is Doc Stitcher. Welcome to Dodge Junction." He sat back, letting me sit up a bit, "Now, you took quite a beating there and I need to see if all your faculties are back. D'you remember your name?"

I nodded, "Natascha. Natascha Nightwing, Marejave Express courier," I chuckled, "Through rads, taint, and raiders' flanks, and all that other shit." Yeah, I came up with it myself. How could you tell?

"Ya might want to put a hold on the attitude, missy. I had ta put a metal plate in that noggin of yours; stress out too much so soon and you might just black out again."

Damn. I had been killed and I couldn't even get pissed about it yet. I needed a drink.

Wait, did he say metal plate?

I blinked a couple times, "Metal plate?"

Doc nodded, "Ayup. Crushed skull like that ain't gonna heal right on it's own. Had to replace most of it," He got out a mirror, "I'm pretty proud of my needlework. Not too shabby, eh?"

I checked myself out. Other than a couple of surgical scars ("Those'll heal right up"), I looked just dandy. I handed him back the mirror.

"Well, I ran some tests on ya after the surgery. Your vitals are strong, I'll give ya that, but I still need to see if ya didn't come back to the land of the living nuttier than a Bighorner droppin'."

I... did not need to picture that. So, the doc asked a bunch of questions, did some free-association crap; you know, all the basic shrink stuff. Other than the plate in my head, I was a model of perfect health.

Yipee.

The doc took his last note, "Alright, you seem sane enough. Well, considerin' daily life out here." He put his pad and pen down, "Now- why'd you go and get your skull caved in for?"

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose," I began, "A little shit and his mooks got the better of me in transit," I swelled in pride, "Must've taken out atleast thirty of them before they got me, yessir."

The doc raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly, "Sure ya did, kid. So, what was the delivery?"

I shrugged, "Just a metal plated casino chip. Didn't think it was worth killin' somebody over," I tapped my head, gingerly, "You can see where that thinking got me."

He nodded, "Well, no sense keeping you here anymore. Before you head out of town, ya might want to talk to that bot what brought you in here. Maybe have a chat with Cherry Smiles over at the saloon, get in a bit of shootin' practice. Might be a few caps in it for ya."

After leading me down the hall, he handed me my saddlebags and barding, "So, what're you gonna do now?"

I checked my magical energy rifle, clicking the mechanism in place for emphasis, "Well, first I'm gonna go get a stiff drink. Then, I'm gonna hunt down the fuckers who killed me, and show them what the afterlife looks like." The doc nodded. I was a little bit surprised, "What, you're not gonna give me some speech on revenge or some bullshit?"

"Nah, I'm no preacher. I know what it's like to lose something," He said, turning to a hall cupboard, "But, if you're gonna go do somethin' that's gonna get you shot at, you might as well take this."

He floated out a... something. Is that supposed to go on my wrist?

"This is a Pip-Buck," He said, "I grew up in one of them Stables they made before the war, everypony got one." He looked at it sadly, like it brought back some old memories he'd rather forget, "Ain't much used to me now. Still, might help you out a bit. It's got an inventory storage spell, flashlight, monitor's your vitals and such. Even got some combat uses," He clicked it open, slipping it on my left arm, "It'll mark friendlies and hostiles with the Eyes-Forward Sparkle, and it's got an aiming spell too; makes the world seem like it's stopped."

Huh. Now that's something I could use. As he clicked it shut, it booted on. I felt a couple pricks as whatever syncing mechanism it used hooked up to me.

Pip-Buck 3000,

Operating System 7.1.3

Copyright Stable-Tec

Immediately the, what did he call it? Eyes-Forward Sparkle? Well, that came up; a health monitor and a charge-rate for the targeting spell (S.A.T.S.? The fuck does that mean?), and the friend/foe radar-thingy marking the doc as a non-hostile (No shit)

"Well, if you ever need a medic and you're in the area, I'll do my best," He chuckled a bit, "But try not to get yourself killed anymore."

"I ain't making any promises." I said, and headed out the door.

Footnote: Level Up (Lvl 1)

Natascha's S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

Strength: 5
Perception: 5
Endurance: 7
Charisma: 5
Intelligence: 4
Agility: 8
Luck: 7

Tagged Skills: Repair, Explosives, Energy Weapons

Quest Perk Added: Hard-Headed: Thanks to your unfortunate accident, you now have a skull reinforced with stubbornite, making your head 20% harder. Any attacks to your head deal half damage, and any attacks made with your head have a higher chance of critting.

New Perk Added: Intense Training: Through sheer force of will and practice, you can increase one of your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. by one point (Endurance).

Chapter One: Back in the Saddle

Chapter One

Back in the Saddle

"No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip; the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip."

Dodge Junction may have once been a rail-town, but that time was long gone; the rails torn up for recycling and other uses and the station converted into a saloon. I checked the Pip-Buck, maybe there was something to make this seem not so quiet.

-And that's why you never use cider to put out a grease fire! Nearly blew up the whole eatery. Needless to say, Cheffer's wasn't so happy with me after that, but that's life. This is AC, and that's the end of story hour. Here's a little number that's one of my personal favorites, about picking yourself back up when you’re down.

Well, now that I'm back,
At a place I can call home,
I grab my rifle, grab my pack,
And walk the long lonely road.

Well, now that I'm home,
I stop in by the old saloon.
I just got back, but I know,
That something's happening soon.

I sometimes wonder if it will ever end.
Give me some good time to rest with a friend.
But even though I just got back,
I take my rifle and cock it back.

Damn, this thing picks up Mr. New Haygas? Sweet. I headed over to the saloon, getting a good look at the town along the way. There was an estate down the road; probably an orchard or something. The architecture was western, which wasn’t much of a surprise out in the Marejave. I almost didn't notice the robot before I bumped into it.

"Whoa nelley! You okay there, darlin’?" The bot said. Oh great, a robot that thinks it's a cowbuck. "Hey, you're that gal I took to Doc Stitcher a few days back! I trust y’all are feelin’ up to snuff now, right'?"

The robot had a generic male pony face wearing a stetson on it's screen, otherwise not so different from the cop-bots I've seen in the Strip. Apparently whoever’s in charge of the NHPD reprogrammed them all as their own police force. Well, except for this one.

"Yeah, guess I owe you one for that," I said, scratching the back of my head, "You know, saving my life and all."
The bot chuckled (Chuckled? It's a robot for crying out loud!), "Ah, ain't nothing to it. I was just roamin' about when I heard those good-for-nothing's talking. Checked to see if you were still living after they left. Stubborn little fella, aren't ya?"

Yeah, and now I'm hard-headed in more ways than one. Damn, my boss would have a field day with this...

"Anywho," The bot concluded, "Ya don't need to go and do me any favors. 'Twas just doin' my civic duty. I'm headin' out of town anyways."

"Out of town?"

"Ayup," The bot said, "Got a strange urge to head over to the Strip. If you ever head that way, make sure to look ol' Flintlock up, ya hear?"

With a casual salute, the bot rolled off. What's he gonna do on the Strip? Doubt they'll let a robot gamble. I put the thought in my 'Think about it later' part of my brain, and stepped into the saloon. It was your basic western watering hole: crap lighting, lonesome patrons huddled about their drinks, a cantina band playing in the back, and all that jazz. Catchy tune, I have to say. I went up to the counter; a maroon coated barmare with a light pink mane was washing a mug behind it, "What can I getcha, hon?"

"Doc said that there's a mare by the name of Cherry Smiles here, said she might have a bit of shootin' work for me."
The mare nodded "Ah, you must be that one the robot brought in," She pointed over her shoulder "She'll be in the back."
I thanked her, downed a shot of tequila and headed out back.

-$$$-

Right as I stepped outside, a bottle exploded right next to me. Dammit, if I'm gonna die so soon after the last time it's not gonna be from a heart attack!

"Sorry 'bout that!"

The first thing I noticed was the magenta mare with the black mane. Then I noticed what was probably the most cared for gun in the Wasteland: a 5.56 caliber bolt-action rifle in nearly spotless condition, polished metal gleaming in the sunlight with the name Winona etched onto the carefully varnished stock.

In case you hadn't noticed, working with guns was a… hobby of mine.

The mare trotted up, gun slung over her shoulder, "The name's Cherry Smiles, but my friends call me CS! Nice to meetcha!" she said, giving my claws a good shake, "I run the pest control out here in Dodge, and I do a pretty good job, if I do say so myself." She finally let go of my talon. How can somepo- dammit, someONE have such a strong grip without fingers? "So, what's your name there, stranger?"

I puffed out my chest "Natascha Nightwing, rank II courier of the Marejave Express."

She got on a thinking look "Natascha... hmm- Oh!" She clopped a hoof to the ground "You're the girl that died!"
I immediately slumped. Great, this was how I'm gonna be remembered: The girl who was killed by a band of raiders. Fuck.
"So, what happened exactly? If you don't mind me asking," Cherry said, "I mean, you were dead and now you're not. Not exactly a common occurance."

"Well, I was on my way to the Strip on a delivery, you see..."

-$$$-

"...And just as I had that skinny little bastard in my sights, WHAM! Teleported right behind me like the cheating little ass he is and shot me in the head!"

Cherry let out a whistle "Dang... a whole team of Thunder Hooves and a faction of the Legion?"
I nodded. Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth just a tiny bit, but hey- honesty isn't exactly my virtue, alright?
"So I'm gonna guess that Doc sent you here for a little target practice." It was more of a statement than a question, "Alright, I'm gonna set a few bottles on that fence post there. Then you can just show me what you got," she said, floating out a few empty bottles. I took out my magical energy rifle, crouching low for stability. Line up the targets and pull the trigger. Melted three bottles in quick succession. Cherry whistled, "Wow. You shoot pretty well for a dead-girl."
"Yeah, I guess the rigor mortis didn't do much for my trigger finger," I quipped, then turned around to her, "Doc said you might have some work for me before I get on my way?"

Cherry nodded "Yeah, we’ve been having some problems with the town’s generator; shouldn’t be hard figuring out the problem, but a lot of critters have seen fit to make the surrounding area their home. It’d be nice to have somepony to watch my back.”

“Or someone?” I said, cracking a grin.

“Yes, or someone.” She replied, smiling. Sure does live up to her name, doesn't she? Well, except for the "Cherry" part...though I haven't known her that long yet, so who knows? Maybe she's got a cherry cutie mark under that slapped-together barding.

I slung my rifle, “Alright. Lead the way.” She nodded, and started off. I decided to try and strike up a conversation "So... if you’re the leader of the pest control here, why don't you just have a few of your coworkers check out the power source?"

Cherry got an embarrassed look, "Well... actually the only reason I'm in charge of the pest control is by being the only member," She sighed, "Honestly, I don't know if half this town even knows how to work a rifle or properly maintain a set of barding. We're far enough out of the way that we don't get bothered by raiders much, maybe a stray Ganger or a drunken Hoof or two. But nothing too serious... kind of a relief, considerin’ how bad it gets here out west. It’s like the old west you seen in stories; lawless gangs just cappin’ towns for whatever things they want. Most are glad that ol’ Dodge is out of the way of that." She scratched the back of her head, "It’s just... I don't want to be stuck here, you know? It's peaceful enough, especially considering what the rest of the wasteland does to ponies, but even keepin’ that in perspective..."

"You feel like you can do more?"

She nodded, "Yeah. You hear Apple Cider talkin' about Security and the Stable Dweller out east, and it gets me thinking. Why don't more ponies try and change things? Why does it take a stable pony to start shaking things up?"

I thought about that for a bit. She was right... while the wasteland was dangerous, nothing new really happened. Just the same old slaving and raiding and surviving. Once those chicks from the stables showed up, though, you get all this stuff about Red Eye and Steel Rangers and the Reapers... kinda weird.

I just decided to push that to the back of my mind. Thinking about it ain't gonna explain it any easier. As we walked, I fiddled with the Pipbuck, trying to figure out how to work the combat magic-thingy. It was… not going so well.

“Stupid, Stable-Tec, over complicated, piece of shi-!” I swung my metal-clad arm at a nearby cliff-face. Damn thing didn’t even get a scratch on it! Cherry gave me a look.

“Umm... Nat? What are you doing? You know those things are pretty near indestructible.”

Oh, well at least if I explode or something this damn thing’s gonna keep on going. I HATE sciencey things…
“I’m trying to figure out how to work that combat-magic stuff this thing has.”

“Why don’t you just check the notes for a tutorial?”

….Son of a bitch.

I clicked back to the notes, and clicked the one marked “SATS Tutorial”. Stupid, smart-ass technology…

A Simplified Guide to SATS

Find yourself in a pinch? Don’t have time to think? Don’t worry: Stable-Tec’s top engineers have developed the perfect solution for you!

Installed onto your Pipbuck is the Stable Tec Arcane Targeting System (AKA SATS) This simple spell will make the world appear to stop around you, giving you plenty of time to think up a strategy or target any not-so-friendly aggressors (Zebra or otherwise).

To activate it, simply focus on the thought of slowing the world around you. Your Pipbuck will pick up on your thought processes and activate SATS for you! Targeting and such will be taken care of automatically, with percentage/hit scores appearing over your target’s limbs and such-

Alright, alright! Just think and it does it. Gotcha.

“Alright, here we are!”

Stopped, and looked around. Before use was some kinda cave looking thing. I let out a whistle.

“Damn. Now that’s a hole.”

I stepped right in, my griffon eyes adjusting to the darkness easily. I don’t know how ponies can deal with not being able to see in the dark. It’s like… being half blind or some shit. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. We followed the path down the cave, cables and stuff lining the walls (And leading to the power lines outside, I guess.)

“So, why the HELL did you ponies put a generator in a cave?” I said. Hey, we were all thinking it. I’m just saying.
“Well, we used to have our power sourced from the solar array a few miles from here, but it went dark months ago. When we hooked up the generator system, we figured that we should probably keep it out of sight in case raiders suddenly decided to take interest in our town.”

Okay… sounds legit.

As we trudged along in the cave, I noticed a light source coming from up ahead.

“Hey, there’s something glowing ahead. I’m gonna swoop over and check it out.” I said, taking to the air and gliding over.

...Ho-ly shit.

Now, I’ve heard of some weird things in my time. Blue boxes that are bigger on the inside, a mountain filled with caps, mysterious ponies that just vanish as soon as they help you, that kinda thing. This tops all of those.

Right in front of me was… what looked like some sort of tribe. A tribe composed entirely of geckos. There were roasting spits and bonfires all around, and some sort of throne at the head of the line of generators. The generators seemed to be in pretty shitty condition, and bits of flesh and stuff was sticking out of the exhaust ports. Maybe the geckos were using them for smoking meats? Hell, I don’t know. I’m not a gecko, how should I be able to figure out how their thought process works!? In the middle of my contemplation, Cherry Smiles had made it over.

“Sweet cherrychangas, what is that?!”

Couldn't have summed it up better myself.

“Well, obviously someone either spiked my drink with moondust again, or there’s a tribe of geckos in your generator cave. And, seeing as how I’m totally aware of how crazy this is, I’m gonna guess it’s the latter.” I whispered, “Alright, here’s the plan-“

Cherry stopped me, tapping my shoulder and pointing behind me. I craned my neck around; there was a tiny gecko just standing there with a straw, staring.

You know, for something so annoyingly persistent in the wastes, they sure are adorab-

FWIP!

OW! The kid shot me! With a straw! How does that- woah…. Okay, that’s dizzy…

I tried calling out to Cherry, but all I got out was a squawk before passing out.

-$$$-

Unnn… Damn, that was a trippy dream. There was a tribe of pygmy geckos, and a cute little kid shot me…

Wait.

I cracked open my eyes, seeing the bonfires of the gecko tribe around. The were still doing crazy tribal dancing stuff, but the throne was now occupied by a gecko in a CRAZY tall hat. Made of a bunch of hats. Why the hell would a gecko want a friggin hat?! I shook that thought off, and focused on my my particular situation: I was tied parallel to the ground on a pole. No, not a pole. A spit.

Gawd dammit. Well... at least it wasn't lit.

I tested my binding: nada. Well, this sucks on ice. I turned to my left, seeing Cherry in a similar condition.

“Cherry! Cherry! Wake up!” I whispered loudly at her

She stirred, and woke up slowly.

“Mmmrr.... five more minutes, mom...”

I craned my neck around at an uncomfortable angle, and pecked at her head, "OW! What the- Natascha! That hurt!" She tried to look around, "Uh... why am I tied up?"

“We’ve been kidnapped by geckos!”

Cherry looked around, totally bewildered.

“How the heck is this possible? Geckos don’t live in tribes! Geckos shouldn't even know how to tie knots!”

“Obviously we’ve underestimated what is probably the greatest threat in the equestrian wasteland.”

She mouthed the last few words of that to herself, "Uh... I don't really think-"

I rolled my eyes, “Oh, come on! Think about it! We look at a gecko and think ‘Aw, such a cute wittle lizard thingy’, and while we’re distracted by their adorableness, WHAM! Through careful coordination and planning, you end up as the next offering to the gecko gods!”

“I don’t think so, Natascha...”

"Think about it. You know it to be true!"

Cherry just squirmed a bit, “Alright, I THINK we should be focusing more on how to get out of this than the possible domination of the word by geckos... Oh! I got it!”

I heard Cherry groan a bit in concentration, her horn glowing a dark green before a glowing blade of magical energy shimmered into existence. It twisted in the air, going for the ropes that bound us. With a few quick slices, the ropes fell away and we tumbled to the ground. Fortunately we seemed to land without notice.

“Alright,” I whispered, the geckos distracted by their king, “Let’s get our guns and our bags and get the hell outta here!”
“We can’t leave yet! We gotta get rid of these geckos- look at all the junk they've clogged up the generators with! If this keeps up, they’ll probably explode and Dodge’ll lose power-”

Wait, explode?

...That’s not a bad idea.

I shushed Cherry up with a talon over her mouth, “Okay, I get it- town needs power, blah blah blah. I think I have an idea,” I said, pulling out a few clustered together cherry bombs.

From the look on Cherry’s face I could tell she didn't exactly like this plan.

"Mrrph mrr mrrrr muh mrrmph?!"

“Don't think about it. A good demolitionist always has a few explosives on her. Look, this may be a little crazy, but I think we can get rid of enough of them by blowing one of the generators,” I removed my claw, “I’m gonna try and sneak up behind king gecko over there and blow the one closest to him. If we’re lucky, they’ll panic and leave.”

“And if we aren't?”

I drew a claw over my neck, and pointed up, "Gecko gods. I'm telling you."

Cherry gulped, “W-well... at least it’s something.”

I nodded, “Alright. You stay here. Try and keep an eye out and stay low.”

And with that, I slinked off, sticking to the shadows. I wasn't the stealthiest of griffons, but it seems luck was on my side. I successfully snuck up right behind the king’s throne, where I struck lucky again- our barding, guns, and saddle bags were carefully tucked behind the king’s throne! I quickly put on my leather armor, the chattering of the crowd drowning out the little clinks and clacks the metal parts made. I pulled out my lighter, peeking over the chair for my target.

Just a few feet down. Perfect.

I light the fuse on my bundle of small explosives and tossed them underhand at the nearest generator, counting down in my head.

4, 3, 2, 1-

BANG!

I quickly looked over the chair, grinning at my handiwo- the generator was still there. A little sooty, yes. But still there.

And now every gecko in the room had it’s eyes on me.

Uhhhh....., “PLAN B!”

I grabbed Cherry’s gun and chucked it at her position with all my might. The tell-tale aura that surrounded it showed that she caught it with ease. I brought out my pair of plasma pistols, pointing them at the oncoming rush of Geckos, “You ain't frying this bird!” I yelled, and started pouring plasma, gliding overhead. I can’t believe it didn't work! If I know anything, it’s machines. Even a small boom should have-

WHOOM!

The sudden blast threw me face first into the cavern wall, before I slowly slid down to the floor. That... actually hurt a lot less than it should. Guess that metal plate’s doing it’s job.

After I recovered from being somewhat concussed, I looked over at Cherry; she rapidly aimed, shot, and reloaded at the geckos. It was actually pretty badflank.

Speaking of flanks, I finally had a view of her cutie mark: A knife crossed over a canteen and a map. The heck? I could'v sworn it was gonna be a cherry or something- whoops! I scrambled to my feet, shooting at the gecko that was almost on top of me. The plasma struck and melted it into a satisfying puddle of goop. I looked over at the king gecko; just sitting on his throne, looking down at all the carnage like a lazy douche.

I think it’s time I changed that. Leaping up into the air, I flew head-first into the gecko king. He turned to me, but too late.

“BOOM! MIND CRUSH!”

Splort!

….Eeeeeuuuuugh! That is DISGUSTING! I got gecko brains on me! Ewewewewewewewew! I panickingly scraped as much of the grey matter off of my skull, before noticing how quiet it got. All the geckos had stopped, staring at their now headless king. I managed to regain a bit of composure in my stance before clearing my throat and pointing at them all, “Your king is dead, foul creatures! I claim this cavern in the name of the family Nightwing! Begone, lest the same fate befall you all!”

...

“...TSEEEEEER!” I let out a loud trill, punctuating my logical argument as to why they should vacate the premises. I think they got the message, as they geckos turned and fled out of the cavern without hesitation. Cherry gingerly stepped around the dead bodies, her lanky form making it’s way over to me.

“Well... that was one of the weirder things I've ever seen.” She said, as I picked up the gecko king’s hat. Cherry giggled as I placed it on my head, “And that’s the silliest hat I've ever seen!”

I grinned, “Kinda is. Who in their right mind would want a massive pile of hats like this? It doesn't even stay on right!” I laughed, tossing it to the side, “So, let’s try and see if I can clean up these generators.”

-$$$-

After a couple hours of scrubbing, oiling, bolt tightening, and a few parts replacements salvaged off the exploded generator, I managed to get the rest of the generators in pique form. The effects of losing one shouldn't be too bad now that the rest are back in order.

“Wow, that’s pretty neat how you did that!” Cherry said, watching me the entire time as I worked. She was like a little kid, asking questions all the time.

“Where’d you learn to do all that mechanical stuff?”

I wiped some grease off of my forehead, putting up a few of my tools before answering, “My dad taught me. When I was little, he used to let me help fix up his guns and other machines. He and Mom were part of a merc group. You’d be surprised with the amount of maintenance a good group needs taken care of.”

Cherry frowned.... was that a frown? More of a face scrunchy thingy... actually kind of adorable, really.

“Your parents were mercenaries?”

I sighed. Here we go, “Not all mercs are money-bound jackasses, alright? My parents were good enough people; they didn’t take slave jobs and the like.” I shut the saddle bag and put it on, “Mercing’s a good enough business, if you have the right ponies in the group.”

Cherry trotted beside me as we left the chamber, “So... why’d you fly the coop?”

I looked Cherry right in the face; she was wearing the goofiest grin I've seen. Oh, Gawd, spare me the puns... “I wasn't the right griffon for the job. Never really got a chance to do anything. Mostly I was just stuck taking care of the equipment. Got tired of it and decided to leave, become a courier. Good pay, lots of travel... safe enough, I thought.”

I tapped my head, “But I guess I was wrong on that account.”

We exited the cave, and I saw a little notification in the periphery of my vision: Quest Complete: Back in the Saddle.

Freaky. Why do I get the feeling that it’s just gonna keep getting weirder before this thing is over?

Footnote: Level Up (Lvl 2)

New Perk Added: Gun Nut: You know your way around machines and other devices, and it shows! +5 to Repair and Small Arms.

Media Transition

SO it's been a while since I updated this thing and turns out I've figured out a better format for the story itself- more art, more audience interaction. Head on over to here to check out the new version: http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread.php?59266-Marejave