Fallout Equestria: A Wastelander Tale

Fallout Equestria: A Wastelander Tale, Chapter Seventeen

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Having taken the lead, I decided to go to the only place I knew, back to Ursa's Rest. But the journey was going to take a week, maybe less than that if we go at my pace. Spell Circuit struggled to keep up, but managed to use magic to get around obstacles, or simply teleported to me after taking a rest. Low Pressure on the other hoof, just flew. The Pegasus stayed near the ground, worried about getting shot, but flying made it easy for him to match my pace.

The old rusty pipe rifle proved useful enough to keep smaller critters away, even snagging us some meat. But predictably, the guns could not constantly shoot straight, and frequently misfired. It was no wonder ponies say that raiders are poor shots if they use guns like this all the time.

At night we would find someplace safe, and I'd drink myself to sleep. The booze had the benefit of keeping me from dreaming. As I had a feeling that any dream I could have, would be a nightmare.

I did get to learn more about Low Pressure, mostly because his favorite topic was himself. He talked about his ex-colt-friends, having several at a time. And he talked about how good he had it in the Enclave.

"You know, if I didn't have the job of being the sedition inspector, I would have still been living in New Cloudsdale. That cloud city was remarkable." Low boasted about something I didn't quite understand.

Wanting to at least hear about something more useful, I interjected with a question. "So how did you get involved with those raiders?"

Low paused for a long moment, then answered nervously. "Weird story that is. You see, after the Enclave fell, I decided to sacrifice myself for the good of the group I was in, and left. Some pony needed to look for a safer place, you see, and I was the best pony for the job, naturally."

I remember being told that he got kicked out, but whatever.

"Now as I flew around, I almost got shot out of the sky." Low pantomimed with his hooves of him nearly crashing down. "Bandsaw was quite scary when I first met her, still scary even now. Well, after talking them into not killing me, they said I still had to pay a toll, but I had nothing unfortunately."

"So you chose to fuck them. From what I remember, it's an option." I commented.

Low Sighed. "In essence, yes. But I was able to convince them I was worth more than some cheap plaything. Still, I had to pay up, so to say. It wasn't all that bad. I mean it was not my first orgy, or even the roughest I had taken part of. Enclave soldiers really know how to get rough, I can tell you. Though these ponies do love their body modification, so it was at least interesting. Just wish they would bathe more often."

"Can you not, please." I pleaded.

"Right right, sorry." Low said before taking a deep breath. "Well they decided to keep me around. I was at least safe, and fed... sometimes. And they avoided beating me so long as I did as they say. Strangely one of my jobs Bandsaw insisted about me doing was servicing the raider mares, and not just ones from the Brain Nails too. They would wander in, stick around for a few days, then vanished. Personally, it was annoying having to bed so many mares, just keeping it up was a challenge as mares aren't my thing after all."

"Move on!" Spell demand.

"Right, again, sorry." Low said before continuing. "Well eventually the raider boss claimed me for himself, though I still had the job with the mares, now I had a big strong stallion, so I got to have some real fun. Well, it may have been too much fun for him, and after a few days, he just died. Like, went to sleep and never woke up. Well Bandsaw found out before I even knew it. Which was weird, as I was in the same bed as him, and then they announced me as the new boss. Well after the shock faded, I realized that of course I would become their boss, who else could do the job better than me."

That sounded all too convenient to even me, but what did I know? Clearly not enough to see that I was helping slavers.

"If you were in power, why did you not make them stop being raiders?" I asked.

Low shivered a little at my question. "I tried, or well, I suggested something like that. But Bandsaw reminded me who they are, it was a bad idea to tell them to stop. So I decided to at least make them look more friendly. They also liked how I got other ponies to just pay us if they could. Sometimes a pony wouldn't listen, or had nothing. Less said about that the better."

"Like the Steel Ranger mare they had." I commented as I remembered the poor mare

He nodded. "I did try to negotiate with her, as she seemed to know her way around arcno-tech, but then she got into an argument with Bandsaw. I even tried to stop it, but I was just glared down by her. Never get into an argument with Bandsaw." He then sighed. "Well after that, I just started getting a bad feeling. Some of the mares were getting more demanding, and the others listened to me less and less. Then you two came, thanks by the way."

It was a bit more than what I wanted to know, and I had the feeling that Low Pressure was never their boss. Thinking about it, I was a bit worried that there was more to the Brain Nails then just being raiders. But hearing more about that poor mare, it reminded me how easily it could have been me in her position, how I ignorantly suggested fighting the Brain Nails the first time I came across them. With nothing but my flare gun, I wanted to fight, thinking raiders were no real threat.

Up until recently, I had just been lucky.

"So…" Spell Circuit spoke up, braking my train of thought. "Basically, you got caught by raiders, and made into a breeding sex slave. Where you got to be the twink for their so-called boss. Then they poisoned him and put you up as the new leader."

Low frowned at that. "When you put it that way, it sounds a lot less impressive. And what do you mean by breeding?"

Spell rolled his eyes. "It's as I said. If I had to guess, those mares likely wanted to have Pegasus foals. Fortunately, pegasus raiders have been few and far between, but they've always been a nightmare for wastelanders with how they can just fly over walls."

"Wait, but where would those mares go? I mean, their raiders." I asked.

"Raiders is a loose term." Spell said, as he explained. "There are more kinds of raiders than we could ever really know. It was always a problem in Fillydelphia, though we at least had a deal with the more lucid raider bands. Mainly paying them to bring in new slaves. Well, except for the Smiles, we just stayed as far away from them as possible. But as to where the mares would go, knowing this region, likely south into Bailfire Fiends territory. Their an ancient raider clan made up mainly of mare, who's sons often form smaller raider bands in the surrounding areas. In all likelihood, the Brain Nails are made up of Bailfire Fiends stallions, and would explain why Bandsaw had so much power."

"So… Bandsaw is not a Brain Nail raider?" I asked.

"Ya, she's possibly a Bailfire Fiend." Spell replied, then looked over at Low. "It would explain the whole breeding thing. One of their things is all about breeding better raiders. That mare they have, I have no doubt that once she shows signs of pregnancy, she will be taken to their base and kept there until she dies."

I gritted my teeth at my own powerlessness. "And why has no pony gotten rid of them?"

Spell sighed. "Ponies have tried, but they live in an active fortress, with walls, and gun turrets. The Institute of Foal Welfare I think it's called, though I don't know why. Well lets just say that Fillydelphia gave up on trying to purge them, and made a deal with them instead. It shames me to say, but my own family found them good trade partners in the slave trade, and has a long, if thorny relationship with them."

"That's horrible." I said, but not in any kind of surprise.

"It was just how things were." Spell said nonchalantly. "Back before Redeye, slavery was just more normal. Well it was always bad in Fillydelphia, but in most of the wasteland, it was not so bad. So it was a good deal for everypony. "

My eyes twitched at that. "Not so bad, slavery is a monstrous act. All the pain and suffering it caused, and you say, it was not so bad."

Spell sighed again. "It was mostly just for farm work, or servants for more well off ponies. Much of the time, those slaves were treated well. It wasn't until Redeye that things got as bad as it became. But even before that, I still came to know it was wrong."

"Because Redeye taught you." I said back to him.

"He WASN'T Redeye then!" Spell snapped back, causing me to flinch.

We both then stopped talking, not wanting to escalate.

Time passed, and though Low Pressure tried to fill the silence, neither Spell or I were interested.

As the sun grew low, I saw the little blue fame again, dancing over a hill. "You see that?" I asked the others, but they shook their heads.

I was sure I had gone a bit mad, but I followed the thing from my dreams anyway. Will-o-Wisp I think it was called. It was a strange, but comforting light.

We arrived at a place that had many of the rusted out motor wagons surrounding it. It also had what looked like a large scooter built into the support beam. Other than being a wreck, it was impressive looking.

"Strange, it's a Red Racer wagon stop." Spell stated.

Low was the one to ask, as I still didn't feel like talking to Spell. "What's that?"

Spell scratch his scraggly goatee for a moment before answering. "Lets see, not just refueling, but also maintenance, yes. Right, this place was used to repower the motor wagons spark batteries. If one of the wagons were damaged, they could be repaired here. Though strange, most wagon stops are radioactive hot zones that even ghouls tend to avoid them."

"And you can tell it's not a death trap, how?" Low asked skeptical.

The unicorn lifted up his mane that covered his face, showing his one cyber eye. "I have a few sensors in my cybernetics. One checks the radiation level, and it says it's safe here."

"If it's fine, then let's go." I said as I trotted to the building.

Closer, I could see that though time had worn this building out, it still looked rather sturdy. Actually, other than its ancient paint and rusting metal, it didn't look like it was crumbling at all. A shame the windows were all broken, but those can be boarded up. Overall, this place could make a good home.

My train of thought came to a crashing stop and tears welled up in me. Home, I want to go home. The feeling was so overwhelming that my legs gave out under me.

Was it the shock, the shame, or was I trying to not think about it. But now that the thought of home had jumped into my mind, it wasn't going to leave. I no longer cared about proving Ma and Pa wrong, as in the end, they were undeniably right.

Both Low and Spell rushed over.

"I thought you said it was safe!" Low said sternly as he got to me.

Both stallions then paused as they saw that I was crying.

"Ar...are you okay Miss Lottery?" Spell asked me.

I quickly wiped my tears away and wobbly got up. "What do you think!" I snapped while still hiding my face.

He backed away. "Oh, right, sorry."

His apology only made me angry. Like he was trying to forgive what his brother had done. It was like a nail being pressed into my gut.

"Don't fucking apologize!" I growled at him.

With a huff, I trotted into the building.

"And this is why I feel lucky to be into stallions over mares." Low said in a joking manner.

Trying to get my mind off… well everything, I began looking about the wagon stop. The place was rather untouched, by ponies at least. Though aged and weathered, it felt that everything here had not been moved since it was abandoned. Papers, tools, and the decorations looked to have never been touched, only left to rust and rot.

This also meant that unfortunately anything in here was rather useless. Maybe after some heavy cleaning and de-rusting, the tools could be used again. But I didn't have the time or materials to do that.

"Hey, over here!" Low called out from the back of the place.

It was a small room, just past a desk that had many worn and unreadable magazines on it. There Low sat at a terminal, playing some game, it involved staking shapes on top of each other, with a row of them disappearing.

"Haven't played this since I was a foal. Though I distinctly remember it being more cloud-like in style." Low pondered as he played.

Spell sighed. "Well, that is at least interesting."

I looked around the small room, and other than a few cabinets and the terminal on a desk, it was mostly empty. I did see something poking out from behind the cabinets, and investigating, I found a rather intact cot.

"I'm claiming this room for the night." I blurted out.

"Oh come on!?" Low Pressure wined out.

Before I could say anything, Spell placed a hoof on Low's shoulder. "Let's not argue, and just let her have the room."

'Fine!" Low huffed out, then turned to his game. "But I get some more time with this."

Spell looked at me, as though needing my say so or something. I just stomped past him. "Do whatever, but this room is mine."

I then entered what must be the workshop, with a motor wagon inside and in pieces. I didn't expect to see the inner workings of a motor wagon, but here it was, and it confused me. With a sigh, I began looking around for anything useful.

Usable tools were my main focus, as the ones I had before were not in my bag. Again it made me curse Tripwire, a thousand times damn him.

A rustling came from behind me, where I saw Spell Circuit standing in the doorway. "Miss Lottery."

"No, I'm salvaging right now." I told him.

He again sighed. "I'm so… no, I mean, I… I don't know."

"Don't know what?" I asked as I forced a toolbox open, but found nothing usable.

Spell took a deep breath "Don't know what to say. About anything, about how hard it must be for you."

I cocked an eyebrow at him as my irritation grew. "Hard, you think it's hard for me. Weeding a farm is hard, repairing a wall is hard. So I guess taking a friendly trot through nightmare land to only find out that the stallion I fell for was lying to me. Then had his friend brutally rape me for hours, ya, that was just… hard."

"I'm sorry." He whimpered out.

"STOP APOLOGIZING!" I shouted. "Don't apologize for what he did."

Spell then slammed his hoof on the ground. "I'm not apologizing for him! I'm apologizing for not stopping it from happening. For not forcing my father to destroy those abominable magics, for not making sure you were safe before I fled. If… if I went looking for you first, none of what happened to you would have come to pass. But I ran, I hid, like a coward."

"What?" I said, feeling confused.

"I didn't return to the manor till late, and only to grab a few books. That's when I found you… that's why I'm apologizing. Because no matter how much I try to change, I'm still the selfish little foal living in my brother's shadow. And again, because I couldn't think of anypony else but myself, I let you get hurt."

I was left speechless, unable to find the words. All my anger and frustration had left me. "I… see." Was all I could say.

"Again, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone now." He said before turning around.

"Wait!" I called out, stopping Spell before he could leave. "What do you plan to do? Where are you going to go?"

He paused for a brief moment, then told me. "I'm going to stop Tripwire. Do what my father couldn't, and destroy my family's legacy. If it means I have to kill him… then so be it... What about you, Miss Lottery?"

I nervously rubbed my leg as I answered, feeling uneasy about saying it. "I… I just want to go home. Where nothing like this happens. Where my Ma and Pa are, and my brothers and sister. Where it's safe."

Spell nodded. "That sounds nice, few have any real safe places to return to in the wasteland." With that, he trotted out of view.

With a sigh, I returned my attention to salvaging, again feeling bad about being so rude to him.

Unfortunately it was getting dark, and visibility in this room was quickly getting worse. Any kind of light would be of great help, but such things were not in my favor… unless.

"Will-o-Wisp?" I whispered, giving into my hallucinations.

A small blue flame then popped out of nowhere, floating in the air, and bathing everything in a dim blue light.

I then shrugged at no pony in particular, "well, might as well ask. Say, Will-o-Wisp, I'm looking for something useful here, like tools, but not super rusted. Can you help me with that?"

Will-o-Wisp bobbed about before flying over to a pile of scrap, Illuminating it. Trotting over, I then carefully moved some of it around until I found what looked like a big pair of scissors. Bolt cutters I think it was called, and they didn't look all that rusted, but it gave off an odd oily smell. Unfortunately the wooden hoof hold bars were broken and moldy, making it impossible to use unless replaced. An easy fix, so I tossed it in the middle of the room for me to deal with later.

Again Will-o-Wisp bobbed around and zoomed off to a cabinet. Following, I looked through it, finding a small tool box. Opening it, the same smell that the bolt cutters had waffed out, and I found a bunch of small gunk covered tools, good for small jobs. Like guns, maybe.

Closing the box, I tossed it to where the bolt cutters were, then looked for Will-o-Wisp. Now I was convinced I was not crazy… though now that I remember, magic was a thing in Equestria. Finding the little blue flame, it was dancing on top of the moter wagon's back end.

Investigating, I opened the back compartment, but found it hard to see due to it getting dark. There seemed to be a duffel bag inside, so I pulled it out, finding it heavy, but not too heavy to remove. Then I tossed it with the rest of the stuff.

Looking around, Will-o-Wisp had moved to some crates, so I trotted over. "Okay, I think I'm done for now, It's getting too dark." With that Will-o-Wisp vanished, and I moved the crates to the middle of the room.

I didn't feel like figuring out what I had, so I retired to my room. Low Pressure had finally stopped playing that game, and now Spell was on the terminal.

Spell saw me come in and scooted his chare back to look at me. "Oh, I, um. I figured out why this place is, you know, not a death trap." He told me, pointing at the terminal.

"Remember, I can't read." I told him.

A dejected frown formed on his face. "Right, sorry." He then took a deep breath. "As it turns out, this place worked on only older motor wagons. Some familiar names popped up too, such as the Rout 50 Desperados. Which is amazing, as it means those ponies have been around as long as the Steel Rangers."

"Route 50 what?" I asked.

"They're a large gangger group up north. Nomadic and rather difficult to deal with, but mostly stay in their territory." Spell Circuit informed me before tapping at the terminal. "Well it seems the owner was paranoid about the fuel the newer motor wagons used, and never converted this place to supply it. I think that fuel might be why the other wagon stops were dead zones. It's quite fascinating."

I yawned and grabbed the nearby cot. "Yes… fascinating. Now can you leave."

Spell nodded and got out of the chair, but then stopped to tell me. "Oh, just to let you know, Low Pressure took the last of the alcohol, sorry about that."

Face hoofing, I told him. "Just go."

Laying down, I was now annoyed. It wasn't like there was enough of that drink left to knock me out, thought I did want to numb my mind a bit before I went to sleep. Now I was alone, in the dark, with nothing but my thoughts, and I hated it.

I hated it all. This dirty wasteland, and the vile ponies that lived out here. I wish I never had left home.

Again tears formed in my eyes as I hugged myself, trying not to sob as I fell to sleep.

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My hooves galloped, away from something, to something. Tripwire stood ahead of me, never getting closer to him. Wicked laughter from behind, getting closer and closer.

"All you have to do is take my hoof." Tripwire told me, a hood outstretched. "Everything will be fine."

I looked at his blood soaked hoof as it reached unnaturally to me. It caused me to flinch and falter. Falling into nothingness.

Hitting something, I now clung onto a ledge. Another hoof now stretches to me, it made of cold metal. "Please, let me help you."

As I looked up to see Spell Circuit, his red eye was nearly blinding. Slapping his hoof away, I fell again.

Falling, and falling, forever.

When it stopped, I woke to a chain around one of my legs, and a collar tightly around my neck. I had on the outfit Onyx gave me, and I could feel the thick makeup on my face.

Large hooves then wrapped around me and I could see Grinder looking down at me. "Now this is how I like my whores." He said gleefully, then kissed me. His tongue forced its way down my throat, violating it. Not just my throat, but everything felt like it was being violated, and I could do nothing.

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Waking up in a cold sweat, it left me feeling dirty. The nightmare felt all too real, and it scared me. Made me wish I didn't need to sleep.

But it was at least, only a nightmare. A horrible nightmare only made worse by my body betraying me. My body felt a bit hot, and my mind wandered, remembering better times, as well as the horror. I wanted to not, but before I realized I was already rubbing myself.

My mind simply refused to work until I was done, until I was satisfied. As I came closer, a thought occurred to me that Spell could probably help me, or Low. It was a disgusting thought, but I thought it all the same. Other horrible thoughts ran rapidly through my mind, imagining myself in the same position as the mare captured by the raiders, being violated with no hope of escape.

I felt ashamed and disgusted with myself as I let out a muffled moan, reaching climax. Then I finally relaxed again. Laying there, my thoughts finally my own, I couldn't help but feel shame. I was just a worthless defiled mare, even to myself.

Again sobbing, I slowly fell back to sleep. Back into the nightmare.

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With the daylight came a new day. Forcing myself up and out, I joined the other two in a morning snack of over 200 year old beans we took from the raiders.

After eating, we went to check on the things I had found. Dragging them out of the dim workshop.

Now in the light, I could see that some of the things were covered in some black tar stuff. The tar being the source of the funky smell. Yet, I had a feeling that it might be why there was little to no rust on them.

The bolt cutters were as I had found it, though the wooden hoof holds were in worse condition than I thought. As for the small tool kit, they needed a lot of cleaning, and I mean a lot of cleaning.

Moving onto the crate, I almost squealed upon seeing all the duct tape and lubricant spray. This was definitely something I must take home with me. Even if Ma and Pa were going to be crossed with me, this would at least soften the blow.

Sighing, I moved to the bag, it a waxy olive green canvas duffle bag. On the bag, in darker green were the letters, "A-R-M-Y" I slowly read.

"Must be from the old Equestra army, from what I know, they always had something good." Spell said curiously.

Opening the bag, it didn't disappoint. Inside were several guns, ammo, and a lot of bits. Lots of bits.

Taking the guns out, we laid them on the floor. What we had were seven revolvers, two shotguns, and four rifles.

Low and I looked at Spell for what exactly we were looking at.

"Hey, I research magic, not guns." Spell said before taking a closer look. "But I might know what these are."

Lifting up a rifle, Spell nodded. "Okay, the one is easy, it's an early war battle rifle made in Griffonstone, the four of them. Semi auto clip fed, and quite powerful. I think they were called Grover, after an old Griffonstone King."

Next was the two shotguns, one having a heat shield over the barrel and the other had a fancy hoof guard that extended along the stock. "Lets see, I think these are Windchester shotguns." A frown then formed on his face, looking closer at the heat-shielded shotgun. "Unfortunately this one has several holes in it, making it useless. But the lever action might still work."

Then he took the revolvers. "Not sure about these. I've seen revolvers before, but not in .45. But looking at them, they do have the Equestria army's stamp on them. My guess, they might have been used alongside the .45 auto pistol as an alternative sidearm."

Taking the lever action shotgun so that I could get a closer look, it reminded me a lot of my Pa's gun, down to a symbol on it. That being a "WC" in between two wings. If I remember right, Pa said his gun was a Windchester breech action single shot called a Martini Breech.

Pulling on the lever, it required some effort to get the chamber open, resulting in releasing a still un-shot brass shell, throwing it into the air. Looking at its insides, I quickly began to understand how this gun should work. Similar to my Pa's gun, but self loading.

"I'll take this." I said to the others.

"Alright, and take this too." Spell said, passing me a revolver. "Since there's more than enough for all of us, take this as well" he then levitated one of the battle rifles to me.

Spell kept two revolvers and a rifle. He then gave one revolver to Low, who didn't seem to mind not getting a big gun. Actually, Low Pressure seemed more interested in posing with the revolver than practicing with it. Making me a bit worried he will eventually shoot himself accidentally.

Unfortunately, after looking the guns over, they were not in the best condition and in clear need of cleaning. Where the black tar didn't coat the guns inside, rust had set in. Fortunately the bag had a gun cleaning kit, but I would still need to switch parts.

Returning to the duffle bag, my attention came to the bits inside. "So, what do we do with these?" I asked.

"Unfortunately they're mostly worthless," Spell said, as he took one of the coins. "But they can be used to get drinks from a sparkle cola machine. I think I saw one outside. I'll be right back" He then took a few more then trotted away.

As we waited, Low Pressure did another pose. Holding the revolver in his front hooves, standing on his back hooves, all while arching his back. "So, how do I look?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Like an idiot."

Low finally relaxed, putting the gun down. "A shame, must be all the grime. I seriously need a wash."

Sighing, I nodded. "Same here. Say what do you plan to do, like once we're somewhere safe?"

Taking a moment to think, Low answered. "Probably find myself a new colt friend, and live it up. Not like I can return to how things were, not with the Enclave all fucked up. I have no connection and no power anymore, so best I just take what I can get. Also avoid raiders."

"Sounds like a plan." I said, feeling a bit sympathetic for the stallion.

Spell finally returned, holding several bottles of sparkle-cola in his magic. Good news everypony!

With some food in our bellies, guns at our side, and as much soda we could take, we left. Heading to Ursa's Rest, where I hope to end this horrid adventure. But after I get some drinks to help me forget.

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