Fallout:Equestria - Clockworks

by ube

Rating: teen
Tags: Science Fiction, Comedy, Suicide / Self Harm, Adventure, Fallout, Profanity, Violence, Death, Alternate Universe, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7095

Follow Music Box through her journey of Great Bridle after years of economic collapse in her land.

Great Bridle was a booming place of new technology being made.
 After the megaspell hit, it suffered a massive economic crisis. The citizens of Great Bridle having ghouls run rampant, drugs being traded wildly or even killed for, slavery was common, and the so-called new technology that was advancing had been transformed into something different. It was old, but it was new as well; it was steampunk galore. Gears and gadgets spin around, and the Big Pone is in broken pieces, shambles even, however that giant clock is still ticking despite the rustiness. It’s probably the only thing that remains of Great Bridle the same; Towns have been ruined or remade with giant concrete buildings. Hideouts are being seeked out by the police, and the do-gooders, they call themselves, are run by this corporate overlord who controls all of Great Bridle’s locations, prices, drugs, and food. The business is called “CHEERS AND LOVE CO.” and they’re anything but what their title insists. They refuse to give to the poor, and only the wealthy ever get anything– the poor are forced to live in slums and sewers, and fight for survival with each other. 
However, there are sometimes the good creatures, who try to give back to the community before they are caught by the government, which when caught, they are never seen again. 

This is the story of Music Box, and her life in Great Bridle. A Fallout:Equestria side story.

Published 2022-12-12 18:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-12-12 18:00:01 UTC

Chapter 1: Pessimism

TINK, TINK, TINK! Everyday I hear that damn noise, it’s like my ears ring each morning. CLINK, CLINK, CLANK! My mother is always creating something, either it be some junk scrapyard that she found dumpster diving so she decided to make it into some damn cuckoo clock, or its metal sheets and she made a whole toy truck out of it.

CLURNK, CLANK, CLINK!

The noises made my ears bleed, well not literally, but I grabbed my pillow and clenched it above my head. The softness only blocks out some of the noise, it made me feel like I was numb again. Rolling over, I pressed the side of my face on my pillow and glanced towards my leg. Now, this isn’t news or anything, it’s nothing even special either, but whenever I stare at my prosthetic it makes me feel so weak. It’s cogwheels spinning in place whenever I flex my muscle, and the fact that when I walk it makes this awful squeaky noise. My mom says I should oil it, but I’m too lazy to do any of that.
I might as well be lazy, I mean, it’s literally the aftermath of the end of the world. Everything only ever gets worse, and it never gets any better. My mother says it will, but I know it won’t, it’s just facts, and she’s only looking towards the future because she thinks it’ll be different and better.
“Someday, you might even change the world, Boxie.” My mother always told me, HAH! Yeah right. I rolled over on my back, staring up at the ceiling. It was a painted mural, I think my dad and I painted it together before he left. It's a beautiful splash of pink and yellow, touched with a bright pastel blue. It's still calming to me because it’s just a silly little picture of what I think a dog looks like, fuzzy and under the great blue sky with the rays of sunshine beaming down on him.
I always wanted a dog, but they went extinct years ago, just like my hopes of this wretched town. One time, I saw some homeless pony steal this kids block of cheese, he had steam emitting from his mechanic eyeball, so fucking freaky.

I really wish that this megaspell just ended everything in existence, not just made everything half-dead or half-alive.

“BOXIEEE!” That’s my mothers voice, she’s always this loud– Either it be I’m far away or I’m in talking distance with her, she needs to yell. “BOXIE! COME LOOK AT WHAT I MADE!”
Classic mother, she’s a tinkerer. She builds and creates, at least she’s creative. Sadly, it’s not something that's passed with genes I guess, because I’m the most boring pony alive. I blame my dad, he was a drunk, did nothing but complain, and when nothing went his way he would cry about how useless he is.

“BOXIE!” Her voice again, she’s screeching now. I better go and see what she needs, or moreso, wants.
I slid off of my mattress, not even bothering to make my bed. My gray blanket touched the floor, I should really change the sheets but I never bother. Moving forward as my leg would make those sounds, squeaking and clicking. The brass shining from the glint of sun passing through the window.
I don’t ever look at my mirror, but today, I think it just feels like that kind of day. I stood right in front of my reflection, staring up towards the sticky note I made when I was only eight years old, “YOU CAN DO IT MUSIC BOX!” written on it with bright red crayon.
I didn’t gain sentience back then, that’s why I was so happy when I was a foal. My tired green eyes stared towards myself, that's me, a light yellow earth pony with messy livid mane. I brushed my grayish blue mane out of my eyes, only to scrunch my snout as well– I never liked seeing me, hearing me, and I still refuse to look at me. I grabbed the tarp that was behind my mirror, and draped it over. Gone from sight, hidden from mind.

Finally, I waltzed into the living room. Clocks everywhere, made from metal, brass, or anything that looks like it shouldn’t be pieced together. They were horrendous to look at the wall every morning, and think of how I feel when I want to get a late night snack, and this terrible cuckoo clock comes COO-COOOOING at me! I wish my mother got rid of this garbage, it's all useless junk anyways. The only useful stuff I see her make is what she hooves over to some company-ponies, she always looks so sad when she gives them away though, I try not to bother in her money-making.
My eyes slowly moved to my mom’s new thingamajig, it was– something.

“Whot is it?” I asked, I was blunt and my voice sounded uninterested as it always does. My mother is used to it though, she likes to say that it makes me sound mature.

She held up the contraption, “It’s a humidifier!” She showed me, it was practically all over the place. Tubes went in and out of the small box, and a windup key in the back of it was what could possibly start the thing up. “Watch!” My mother excitedly giggled, twisting the key.

CRRRK, CRRK, CRRK. The box then began to emit air from the tubes, however, after a few minutes it would stumble and bumble. Flicking open the lid as smoke made the poor thing implode in on itself. My mother on the other hoof, was covered with dust.
She snorted, and began to laugh, placing the item on her desk as she went right back to work. “All is fun in failing and working!” My mother told me with the most childlike expression on her face. “Sure, mother.” I rolled my eyes, plopping myself down on the couch as I gazed out the window.
Low and behold, there’s already a stallion duking it out with another, one bashing the other on the concrete ground and the bigger one coming back just to throw him on the muddy pile. What’s this all for? A fucking piece of mint. It was not just any mint however, it tasted fresh but those sweets can make a grown stallion kill an infant for just another hit. It was laced, drugging these poor ponies and creatures to depend on it.

“Boxie?” My mothers voice again, however, she wasn’t actually yelling. It was a soft voice, oh no– This is most likely going to be another awkward parent-child talk that I didn’t want to do.

“Yeah?” I hesitantly replied, my eyes looking towards her. She had her back turned to me, she was still working on that garbage. Why’d I even turn around? I eventually looked back out the window.

“When are you going to go back to working on things, again?”

“What?” My brows furrowed.

“Well, you have a talent for making things.” There she goes, “I don’t see why you can’t put it to use.”

“I don’t have any talent.” I reiterated– I’ve said this many times before actually and this conversation genuinely feels like deja vu. “I never had one to begin with, I only got it because I made something for once. After that, everything else was just as useless as what you make for a hobby.” I think I was too mean when I said that, I could hear my mom gulp down before she’d set down her tools next to the box.

I felt bad, my upper eyelids lowering, “I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“It’s okay, love.” Mother replied, it wasn’t okay. She sounded upset, but she didn’t have the heart to insult or scold me, she was a pushover like that. “I’ll stay quiet now.” The loud tinks I would usually hear was way quieter now, but it didn’t feel any better. I think I preferred it when her hammering was in my ears.
To avoid my guilt, I went into my room and closed the door.

I wouldn’t fucking slam it, I’m not some child anymore, I’m twenty.
I made my way to the closet, and picked out a random vest and undershirt. It was the most boring clothes, fit for a mare like me. A striped dark brown vest on top of a white blouse, paired with an equally brown ribbon-tie. I think all I needed was my bag, and my hat.
Quietly, I trotted out my room. The hat that I usually wore is my mom’s favorite, she made it herself after all. It had gears that went around it, as well of a small cogwheel that would move if I made any quick movements. It was pretty cool, I think the coolest thing my mom has made yet. I grabbed my satchel, making sure that it was snug over my shoulders and placed the hat ever so gently on my head. I didn’t know how I looked, but I didn’t care.

Opening the door, I could hear the hammering stop.

“Boxie?” My mother again, she always calls me ‘Boxie’, never Music Box.

“Yes?”

“Please,” There was a pause, “Please, be safe.”

I don’t know why she doesn’t trust me by myself still, I can take care of myself very well. I bit my lip, I was wondering if I should just say nothing at all. However, I gave in.

“I will.” I replied, before closing the door and locking it. Hello, outside.

Author's Note

this is my first fic posted here, im still working on it and its a work in progress :)

Chapter 2: Magnetism

My hooves quickly clacked down the stairs, it was so empty in this staircase that even a small mouse could be heard through the walls. Opening the door to the world, I suddenly remembered– I hate being outside!

But, being out here is the only way I could get entertainment. My mother refuses to make, or even buy a telly, let alone a radio. The stallions that were fighting each other from before were already getting arrested, their mint being confiscated.
Usually that means the product isn’t even theirs to begin with, sucks to be them, huh?
I looked behind myself, making sure that the door to the apartment was locked. My apartment isn’t some posh mare’s household, queen’s no! I live in the fucking slums, and my mother’s apartment always looks like it’s gonna collapse at any moment.
The apartment was leaning on its side, bricks and cement chipped on every corner. The ugly graffiti written on the top of the door is still there, read it out loud, and you’re sure to get arrested.

“FUCK BOOTLICKERS” is what it said, I always snicker at it. Personally, I like the ugliness, it really adds to the whole ‘being poor’ aesthetic.

Spinning on the back heel of my hoof, I’d trot forward to the nearby bodega. If you don’t know what that is, it’s a corner store. We have a bodega cat too, her name is Stacy, the owner installed a mechanical back leg to her so in a sense, we’re matching. Only difference is I’m crippled at the front, and Stacy is at the back. At least she’s cute though.

“Musiiiic Booox!” A familiar voice to me called out my name, it was just old Racket. His real name is Racket Clanket, but this guy is so old that I think he lived a century by now. He had steam shooting out from his brass back, his gray beard almost reaching the dirt and his eyes squinting towards me. Poor guy was going blind I figured, soon he's gonna need to get installments on his eyes too.

“Alright? Nice to see you’re kickin’ gramps.” I jested, I don’t want to see this old fart drop dead anytime soon.

“Oy, right! I won’t die, not yet laddy.” He chuckles, slowly moving to the desk and register he works at. He always mistakes me for a stallion, I don’t really mind though. My eyes looked around for Stacy, she wasn’t here. Usually she props herself up on the desk whenever a customer shows up. “Where’s Stacy?” I asked Racket.

“Ohhh,” Old Racket muttered, rubbing at his beard with his hoof. That doesn’t sound good, “IIII–I don’t know, laddy. Some kids ran off with ‘er, I tried to catch up to ‘em but, you know me son, can’t run.”
“Whot?” I asked, my eyes almost bulging out of my face. “Some fucking rugrats took ‘er? Fucking foals, they can’t pick a roach up the ground and eat ‘at instead?!” I was pissed, royally so I’d like to think. You don’t fuck with cats, and especially not old Racket’s cat, shes a lovely tuxedo and I’d rather them die old together than her end up on some kid’s plate. “Do you remembah which way they went, gramps?”

“Errr..” He grumbled, oh, don’t tell me this guy is losing his memory as well. I pleaded to whoever was listening to me, give me some kind of hint, “Errr, eehhh–yeah.” Oh, thank the nonexistent queen! “ ‘Ey took ‘er to an alley, but some kids were standin’ guard, I couldn’t take ‘em on ‘m own.” I furrowed my brows, and tugged on my satchel, “Don’t worry, gramps, I’ll ‘et Stacy back.”
“Son, you don’t have–” I stopped him, “She’s my cat too, I’ve been goin’ to this place since I was eight, and I’ve been seein’ her since I was eight! I’m gonna get ‘er!” I cared more about that cat than my own self, Racket himself looked surprised. He waved me off, and stared down towards his register, “Well, good luck, lad.” He didn’t sound like he believed in me, and to be frank, I don’t either.

However, I’ve already made my decision, and I was on my way towards that alley he supposedly said those rascals were at.

Eventually, I made my way to this stinky and smelly alley. Felt more like the sewers than an alleyway. There were dumpsters that hadn’t had their trash thrown out in probably five months, little robot flies buzzing around the stench that wavered off of it. Like gramps said, there were some foals standing guard in the entrance. They were the size of my two legs, but they looked like they’d been used for punching bags.

One foal had his eye taken out I assume, and a scar that ran across the top of his forehead to the bottom of his right cheek, he was wearing this potato sack bag that had holes patched up. The other was a filly, she was missing two front teeth and had bandages wrapped around her two forelegs. Although they looked tough, that doesn’t mean they are tough.

I trotted towards the two, and in an instance they recited something like it was out of a script.

“HALT!” They yelled at me, “ONLY FOALS ARE ALLOWED HERE!”

I decided to lie, “I am a foal.” And the filly snorted, “Nuh-uh, you’re a fuckin’ senior citizen!” Okay, they got eyes at least, it was most likely my bags under my eyes that gave it away. Damn insomnia!

“Okay, ya got me,” I said, “But I ain’t fockin’ old ya twats, O’I’m fockin’ twenty!” I huffed. The two laughed at me, this feels like I was on the playground again. “You’re ancient! Fock off!” The colt scowled at me.
I gritted my teeth, “Fine, no more Mr.Nice Mare.” I stomped my leg on the ground, the gears spinning rapidly as steam emitted from the corner of the metal parts, “Oi know you got a cat ‘ere, she’s black ‘en white, ‘en she's got cute blue eyes with a mechanic leg– So you both either tell me, or I’m–” Then, the filly cut me off, “Or what?” She didn’t even let me finish my sentence!

“I’ll–”

“You’ll grow more wrinkles?!” The colt snarkingly replied.

“No, I’ll–”

“You’re gonna give us crows feet!?” The filly popped her bubblegum at me as she’d let out a burst of laughter.

This– This is humiliating.
I sucked my teeth in, I couldn’t take it anymore! I hate these fucking foals, and I hate that they’re making fun of every little thing on my face. Raising my leg, I gave the filly a slap to the face.

THWACK!

The filly fell on her flank, and tears swelled up in her eyes. It felt good for a moment, only to realize– Aw fuck, I fucking hit a kid. The colt stomped his little legs towards me, and then went to reconcile with his friend, “You’re deranged, miss!” He yelled at me. The filly wailed, “WAAAAAHHH!” Sobbing her poor little lungs out. “I–uhh..” I awkwardly stuttered. “You’re fuckin’ mental! It’s okay, Ribbons!” I shrugged it off, and quickly trotted closer to their hideout. “HEY! You can’t just–”

“WAAAAAAAAAAH!” There’s the filly again, and the colt was right back to trying to calm her down.

At least it worked.

Their den was like a bootleg fortress. Candles that were burnt out were all over the place, pillow fortresses which made it seem like they were meant to be tents, and sweets wrappers that covered the bottom of the ground. This was a foal’s playpen.

“YOU!” A pitched voice yelled from somewhere, they didn’t even hit puberty yet!

I looked around for who yelled for me, the blankets were all shut and I stared forward. There were curtains that were tied from one building to another, and slowly the drapes opened up.

It revealed a colt with a paper crown, white coat with brown spots and dark blue mane. His golden eyes staring down at me like he was the next prince in the bloodline. On his lap however? It was Stacy! She didn’t even look a touch wounded, or thank the queen, EATEN!

“WHY ARE YOU HERE? AND WHY HAVE YOU SLAPPED ONE OF MY GUARDS, YOU MUPPET!” My ears lowered, and I scrunched the corner of my snout. “Your guards were making fun of me.” I replied.

“That’s because you’re an old dunce!” The fake prince snarled. To be fair, I am a dunce, but I’m not that old!

“Listen–listen–” I shook my head, I’m not about to slap another foal in the face. “O’Im just here for Stacy.”

“Who the FOCK is Stacy?” The colt huffed as he was petting Stacy on her fluffy forehead. It looks like she didn’t care though. “The cat on your lap!” I responded. “ ‘Er name isn’t Stacy, ‘er name is Flufflekins the Fifth!” He smiled, holding up Stacy and then turning her on her side to rub her belly. “Mrrrrow..” Stacy purred, “And she’s moi cat.” He smirked.

“She’s not your cat!” I called out, pointing towards him.

“Whot?! Yes she is! We found ‘er on the streets! My guards said so.”

“Your guards are lying!” I looked around towards the tents, foals were sticking their heads out. “The cat is named Stacy, an’ she belongs to the bodega owner, Racket!” I spoke my heart out to the child, I don’t know if he's gained the ability to feel empathy but I am trying my best. “Imagine bein’ tha’ old and your only frien’ is a cat! That cat! He’s tha’ reason she can walk on four legs, and she’s tha’ reason he’s still walkin’ at all, that he even gets out of bed!” My voice softened, reaching my forelegs up to the colt. “Please, give ‘er back. He needs her back.”

I could see the colt ponder, and his face eventually turned from a smug smirk to a frown– Then that devilish grin again, “He’s gonna die anyways, so I don’t care! BLEH!” He stuck his tongue out at me, “GUARDS, arrest her!” He extended his leg towards me as more foals marched out from their tents.

I hate foals.

So, so much.

On an instinct, I grabbed the nearest thing to me, a pebble. Launching the pebble up towards the colt’s head in hopes that it’ll at least hit him on his noggin.

Just like I learned with my last lesson, is that I should always enact violence on foals. The pebble smacked him dead in his eye, “OWWWUUUUH!” He cried out, and Stacy’s hair stood up as she ran down his lap and out of the alleyway. The foals tried to catch her, but catching an animal like her is like catching a slime of gloop, she’s just too slick. As the boy whined about his eye, I decided it was my time to head out.
Unlike these foals, my legs are fully grown and I simply could run faster than they ever can. I ran out of the alley, chasing after Stacy, past the two guards. On my way out however, I accidentally knocked the kid I slapped in the face, I could hear her crying again.

“Sorreh!” I apologized, not looking back as I galloped after Stacy.

Out of breath, we eventually reached our destination. Luckily for me, it was Stacy’s home. The bodega, and it was already getting dark. Stacy jumped towards the desk that old Racket was moping on, and I could see his face light up when he saw her.

“Staceh!” He chuckled, roughly petting the cat on her head. He could give a rat's ass about me, I was huffing and puffing over here. “Fwuuhh.. Y–You’re welcome,” I exhaled loudly, “Racket.”

“Thanks, laddy.” He gave me that precious old guy smile, “I’m givin’ you a discount for tha’ next three days for findin’ her. Y’er a good kid, y’er mom is proud of ya, I bet.” My slight smile eventually returned back to my monotone expression– Right, mom.

“Yeah,” I gulped down on my saliva, and fixed my hat which was crooked from all that running. “I–It’s getting late, I think I’ll be goin’ now.” I gave a wave towards the stallion, my eyes breaking eye contact with him as I’d begin my way back home. It’s only a few blocks north, but I didn’t really want to face my mom after what I said to her today.

Staring up, I could see the steam creating clouds of fog that hovered over this town. Where I lived was called Porkobelly Road, and it used to be a road before a certain corporation decided to take over and build their factories here. The citizens here built our own houses, apartments, but it was never anything fancy compared to how the creatures uphill live. I always envied them. I wish I lived in a nice house where I had my own little fireplace, a classic nuclear family, and a mom that’s gadgets weren’t obscure.

Soon enough, I had made my way back home, but there were griffons with tuxedos standing outside, and a stallion with this horrendous goatee. I figured it was just some scandal again, but as I got closer, I could see the griffon clenching my mom’s leg tight in his grip.

She was being questioned, forcefully.

“Where’s the gun, Mrs.Trinket?” The stallion asked my mother, “WHERE are our PRODUCTS?” The griffon clenched my mother’s leg so hard, she yelped; I could see blood being drawn from her foreleg.

“LET GO OF MY MOM!” I yelled out, stomping my leg towards them. All three of them turned their heads around to look at this wimpy mare, and my mom with the most tired expression on her face. She wasn’t smiling like she always was, she looked scared and hopeless, but she tried to fake a smile as best as she could this time. “B–Boxie, please just go upstairs,” She murmured. “No, mom! What are they doing to you– with you! Let go of her!” I screamed at them, at any moment I wanted to lunge at them.

“This your daughter?” The stallion smirked, eyeing me up and down like I’m his food. “She’s grown well.”

“You’re old, back off, fockface!” Fucking creep, looking at me like that. My mother didn’t seem too amused, and she was shaken around like some ragdoll. He threatened her, “Where’s the fucking products, and nothin’ bad will happen to her.”

“To me? You fockin’--” I took another step forward, but the moment that I did, the other griffon made his way towards me and grabbed me by the neck. He forced me to the ground, my face being rubbed with dirt and grime. “Fhuck–! Shtupid,” My voice muffled as the griffon showed no care, and I could hear my mother sobbing. My eyes widened as I listened, I felt paralyzed.

I felt weak.

“Please–please, don’t do anything to her, please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt my daughter!” My mom begged with the stallion. My eyes peered up, and I could see his face. His shit-eating grin.

“Anything?” I heard him say, he looked towards the griffon that was holding her and they began to pull her away from the scene.

“STOP! SCHTOP!” I cried out, tears formed in my eyes and eventually ran down my cheeks. “PLEASCHE! MOM, DO SOMETHING!” I tried to move, I really did, but the griffon was heavier and he is stronger than I am. I kicked my hindlegs around, pleading, “MOM! MOM!” The tears fogged my eyes as everytime I blinked, I could see her getting farther away.

Somehow, out of pure luck, my hindleg bucked the griffon in his stomach. He grunted, “Rghh–” But, didn’t budge. Snot spurted from my nostrils, and as I cried out one more time for my mother.

“MOM!” THWACK!

Everything went dark.

Fluttering my eyes open, nopony or creature was here. No mom, no griffons, no stallion. I shakingly heaved myself up, staring down at the ground. I pressed my leg around, feeling the dirt as I felt something cold touch the bottom of my hoof.

It was a happy-face pin.

The company took my mother. ‘Cheers and’ fucking ‘Love Co.’.

Author's Note

pov: boxie decks a child

Chapter 3: Altruism

Author's Note

i hope that i get to add more fo:e stuff in the future with this, i also hope you enjoy my characters here!

Chapter 3: Altruism

My vision still felt blurry, my leg was making all the sounds of jittering noises. It probably had gotten damaged when the griffon shoved me to the ground. I shut my eyes tight, feeling the creases in the corner of my face brunch up, it stung; That’s what I get for crying in the first time of ten years.

“Mom?” I called out, I don’t know why I did. I just thought that it could have just been some weird nightmare, that my mom actually didn’t get stolen from these creatures out of nowhere, “Momma?”

That I wasn’t alone.

“Mom?”

My voice was hoarse, I could feel the soreness already building up in my tonsils. I didn’t like this feeling, that my mother wasn’t here with me and that I couldn’t do anything to help her. I had to hear her plead for my life to be spared as my mom was slowly removed from my vision. It’s a worse feeling than when dad left, because at least I tried to stop my mom from leaving– from being taken away.

I stood in the cold for a good five minutes listening to nothing. I knew there were some hoofsteps clacking around in the corners of my ears because ponies are usually awake at this time; However– my ears and mind, they blanked them out. All I could do was stare at the horizon of where I last saw my mother. Everything genuinely felt numb, like time had stopped.
I remembered that I had the pin in my hoof still, the circular and smooth texture snapping me back into reality as I glared down at the pin.

This was all I had left to remember her? Some stupid fucking pin from a dumb fucking company with too much power for their own good?

“FOCK!” I screamed out, biting my tears. I was stressed, I have no idea what to do here. I’m just a mare from Porkobelly, a mare who can’t do anything useful on her own! What was I supposed to do, now?
I let out an exhale through my nostrils, turning around I could see some ponies staring at me.

“You live ‘n this focking town, you see all sorts of shit, but a focking mare having a mental breakdown is tha’ weirdest thing you’ve seen? FOCK YOU!” I lashed my anger out on them, granted they could have been staring at something else but my anxiety was spiked so high that I just needed to scream, I just needed to yell at someone that wasn’t myself.

I barged through the apartment door, the metal panel that held the door together actually falling off from it. I swear I’m not that strong, it's just that the apartment is falling apart, and I’m not going to get fined by the landlord, not today at least. Hopefully, nopony has seen me do that.

I furiously stomped upstairs pushing through oddities of items that my mother had built in her past, it felt heartbreaking knowing these would probably be the last actual things that I will see in this house from her.

I rummaged through her items, tossing an auto broom behind me, a few teapots that were supposed to apparently ‘cure depression’ , and a brass makeshift dog that could only do backflips. My mom was an inventor, a creative, and a lot of these brought memories back to me. I held the fake dog in my legs; I remember this one.

I always mentioned how I wish dogs were more accessible here, my mother spent all night and morning working on this silly thing. She only managed to make it do backflips, it couldn’t even bark.
I twisted the key that was on its metal back, frrrk, crrrrk, crrrrk.

The toy was rusty, but it slowly moved its front paws forward and its hindlegs back. The thing tried to do its backflip yet it failed miserably, slamming the side of its face on the cold floor. I could hear the cogs slowing down, crrrrick, clickkkk, crrrrcrrrickcrrrickk–ick. I felt bad for it, it didn’t have any feelings– fuck, it wasn’t even sentient. However, I still felt bad that it couldn’t do what its intended purpose was. I gently placed it back in its box as I felt steel brush against my foreleg inside of the box.

Probably another artifact that my mother made. I wonder what it was this time, maybe it was a small blimp that fed you spaghetti? A portable robot roach? I gripped the shaft of the item, it was heavy.

“Huugh–” My teeth clenched, it was REALLY heavy!

“ARGHGHH!” I groaned as I managed to pull the thingamajig out of the box. I fell back as I watched the thing flung over my head and into the wall. “Shitshitshit–” I was praying that it didn’t leave a dent in the wall.
As I brought myself up from the floor, I finally got to look at what I pulled out.

Holy.

Fucking.

SHIT!

It was a gun, a sniper rifle to be exact. There were three lenses on the bridge of the gun, its brass and silver made it look decadent. I have no idea how to use a gun, actually, I’ve never seen a gun until today! My mom, she made an actual fucking gun! These are illegal, the only creatures that could wield one are part of ‘CHEERS AND LOVE CO.’ or they are mercenaries, rangers, or just wanderers that don’t actually live in Great Bridle. Citizens can’t own these, it's against the law in case anypony would try to rebel against the bossman himself. My eyes sparkled at the sight of it as I slowly moved my legs over to touch it.

My hoof softly passed over the shiny metal parts, touching it I could feel a few bumps on the corner of the cartridge. I took a gander at it and there’s my mom's signature.

“Mrs.Trinket” written on it in cursive.

I pulled out the gun from my wall, I could see the scopes shining at me, it looked brand new. I eventually had to lay it back on the floor, it’s still too heavy for me. I just kept staring at it in awe.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

That made me jump almost comically, hitting the top of my head from the surprise.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

Shit, someones at the door! My eyes darted left and right as I kicked boxes over by the gun, and ripped the throw blanket from the couch. I covered the gun, the boxes too that were around it. “Coming!” I yelled, please don’t be the fucking bootlickers.

I peered through the peephole, in the fisheye angle I let out a breath of relief. Opening the door was a unicorn, her long purple mane covering the left side of her face, her light purple coat and freckles easily showing off her blush that spread from one cheek to another.

“Aye, Bellflower.” This was Blush Bellflower, she's my neighbor as well as a childhood friend. She’s always blushing here because Porkobelly is never hot, it's always cold, or just damp and wet. “W--What’s goin’ on?” I asked her, she was at my door.

“I–I heard you scream outside,” Oh, she heard that? “And the–then you were making alot of noises in here, I–I thought you were in trouble.” The shy mare muttered, avoiding eye contact with me. “Are… Are you um, okay?”

She always worried about me, but I was always the one to save her in trouble. She would let some ponies push and shove her, and I had to come over and threaten them with my metal leg. She’s always been the shy kid, and she always will be a quiet kid despite us being in our twenties now.

“Yeah,” I responded, looking back to the corner of my living room and then back to her, “ ‘m fine Bell. Bye–” I tried to slam the door on her, but she used her magic to stop the door from shutting on her face.

“I–I saw what happened to your mom, do you need c–company?” She asked me, and she gave me those damn puppy eyes. I quickly looked away from her great blue eyes.

“No, I ‘on’t, Bell.” I tried once more to shut the door, “Bye–” Once again, she stops it. I think she's gotten more persistent as we got older, and only specifically to me.

“I’m always here for you, B-Box,” She puckered her lips, “Um, you can tell me anything, you know, because– because– I’m–”
Cutting her off, I blurted.
“Listen, Oi really ‘ave to piss, ‘en you’re holdin’ ‘m up, sorry.” Not sorry, I shut the door on her face quickly before she could even use her magic to hold it again.

“Okay, um, I’ll be here! In my… Apartment, if you need me. Bye.” Her muffled voice told me through the door. Stubborn lass she is.
I hurriedly went back to the gun, undraping it as I took one more gander.

I remembered that the stallion was asking my mother where the gun was. If my math is right this is sure to be what he’s talking about, and what a beaut this thing is! I would threaten someone's mom for this too, but I have to also remember, they took my mom.

I went over to my mother’s desk, it looks like her next plans were making a small makeshift companion. It was a cube with legs, but knowing how the dog went about, I don’t think there would be any high expectations from this either. Reading over the plans I could see her writing like, ‘Maybe bigger?’ or ‘Husband-o-meter’. That made me giggle, and my eyes had laid set on this one sentence.

‘A friend for Boxie’. My smile had left the room, and I could feel my ears fold back behind my hat. I didn’t know I seemed that lonely to my mother, because I wasn’t! I don’t think I am.

Nonetheless, I’m not going to dwell on myself when I have a bigger mission at hoof.

Finding my mother.

I mean, if I could find some dumb cat from some stupid kids; I can surely find my mother. Besides, without her here, I won’t have any dinner tonight and I was looking forward to spaghetti day. I scavenged through other boxes, finding a duffel bag that was old and dusty. Sniffing it, I almost gagged at the old stallion smell. This was surely my dad’s, maybe before I was born.

This will do however, I stuffed a few other contraptions that my mom had made just in case, a pen, and I cannot forget the sniper rifle that was laying on the floor still. I shoved all the boxes away and wrapped the gun in my throw blanket as I gently rested it inside the duffel bag.

I think I’m ready now.
I need to find my mother, and I’m going to find her. I spun the keys to the apartment around in my tail as I slowly trotted to the door. I took one last look behind myself, the clocks, the weird items that made this place what it was. Why did I feel like I was going to miss it? I’ll only be gone for a few weeks.

I twisted the doorknob and opened it, however, as soon as I did; I had almost bumped right into Bellflower. “Bell!” I huffed.

I thought she had left, but surprise surprise, the mare was still there. She eyed my bag and began to pester me with all sorts of questions.

“What are you doing with th–that?” She asked, “A–Are you running away?” She questioned, “Where a-are you going?” I clicked the key into my apartment, locking and shutting it tight. “B-Box, can I come?”

“No.” I hissed, the gears on my hat spinning clockwise.

“W–Why not! I care for you, because I-I-I,” She tried to get her words out.

“I ‘on’t care why you care, Bell. ‘s not safe.” I began to trot down the stairs, the hoofsteps doubling the echo as she was trailing right behind me.

“Well, I’m following you anyways,” She spouted bullshit, “I want to!”

Rolling my eyes, I let out a scoff as I kept on moving. “Bell, you’re gonna ‘et scared by some fockin’ mouse before you’d dip w’th ‘m.”
Bell puffed out her cheeks, and she raised her leg, smacking me on my arm. She then repeatedly began to hit me but to me, Bell was a soft pillow. She’s the only pony that can’t knock me on my ass in two seconds.

“Y–You’re so mean, let me come with you, Box!” She complained.
I clenched my teeth and furrowed my brows, giving in just so she could stop yapping. “Ok!” I pushed the tip of my hoof on her chest, “Only if you ‘hut up! Stop talkin’! Zip it!”

And so she did, Bell I guess was one of my first companions now on this shitty journey. It won’t take long. I kept thinking to myself, this won’t take long at all. Soon, Bell and I will be back home in within’ a day, resting and ready for another boring fucking month in Porkobelly.

Her and I trotted forward, along the road she kept staring at me with the biggest and shiniest eyes. It was mildly uncomfortable to say the least, but all we had to do was just keep walking.

First stop was heading to the bodega, you know, Racket’s and Stacy’s bodega.

“Wh–Why are we here? Isn’t he… C–Creepy?” Bell asked me, cowering behind my back.

“Why? Because ‘e ‘as a fockin’ brass back an ‘e can’t see, Bell?” I responded, “‘On’t be ableist, Bell.” I know that's not what she meant, but it’s easy to shut her up that way. I heard a small squeak behind me.

“Eep!” It was just Bell again, that was her ‘I’ll shut up’ noise. I rang the bell to the bodega, tugging on the string and quickly jutting it left and right as it rang through the neighborhood.

However, there was no answer. I let my eyes scan the area, and I took notice of a small sign on the door.
‘GONE WALKING STACY’.

Well, fuck. The only place I like buying my stuff from is out walking his fucking cat. To top it off, my back is already hurting and I want to go back home now. “Welp,” I sucked my teeth and turned on my leg. “I guess we’re goin’ to tha’ next town.” I told Bell, her eyes widened.

“W–What!” She sounded shocked, I already told her that this wasn’t for her didn’t I?

“I ‘an’t buy nothin’ nowhere else.” I responded, beginning to make my way to the next road. She quickly skedaddled next to my side.

“Can’t you just buy somethin’ from the other shops?” She asked me.

Hah, the queen's ass I would! “Every shop ‘ere is owned by the smiley focks.” I answered while continuing my walk, “I ain’t spendin’ a single cap to any of ‘em.”

“B–But!” And then I stopped in my tracks.

“I ‘old you if you wanted to walk with ‘m, then you can’t fockin’ complain Bell.” And she gulped her last words. I just wanted peace while I was here, even if it meant shutting this sweetheart up. I gave her another glance and I could see that she was staring at the ground as she trotted, trying to hold back a sniffle.

Really? I let out a sigh, tilting my head upwards towards the fog and then back at her, “You can talk in the ‘ext town.” And she giggled, rubbing her side of her face on my shoulder.

Gross.

“Thank you, B–Box!” She happily chuckled, my lips puckered as I reminded her.

“I told you, the ‘ext town.”

“Right, sorry.” She muttered.

“ ‘ext town.” I said again.

She shut up, only for a second.
“What’s the next town?”

And I groaned, “Bonesmouth Valley.” That sounded scary, but I’ve been there before, it’s at least prettier than Porkobelly. Eventually, Bell had stayed quiet, and we were walking to our next destination.

The next stop, Bonesmouth Valley.

Chapter 4: Pragmatism

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