Fallout: Equestria - Operation Killjoy

“As a former employee of the Ministry of Morale I can assure you that the three most important things that define you are your cutie mark, the memories you hold dear and the lies we make you believe.”

The two signals Key detected turned out to be Steel Rangers, out on a far patrol on the less safe metro lines. After they learned about their encounter with the ghouls and Shibboleth’s sickness, one of them carried her to the nearby settlement. Key tried to hold back her tears, when the Ranger eventually disappeared into the dark tunnels.

The other escorted them, every so often checking if something was following them. Fade couldn’t stop herself from looking at the weapons strapped to his saddle. It was an uneasy feeling, as if every time she was not keeping an eye on them, the missile launcher and flak cannon would spring to life and unload onto the group. Like she saw it happen many times before.

Midnight felt a strange dread coming from them, reminded by his brother’s words that the Rangers were not all too keen of ghouls. Eventually he asked him something in their local tongue.

“What?” The Steel Ranger answered, not understanding a single word.

“Nevermind. I’m sorry,” Midnight said. The Ranger’s answer was all he needed to know to confirm he was not a local.

When they finally arrived at the settlement, they didn’t care about the marble walls, the bright lights shining from the chandeliers or the paintings on the wall. Great portraits and marvelous depictions of landscapes were brought down here from the surface to preserve them from the balefire. The paintings were soon abandoned and used by children and juvenile ponies to sketch on or repaint them in the image of the wasteland. Depictions of crudely drawn ponies getting killed, eaten, dying, starving; Alternating with obscene pictures, at times involving the princesses and a recurring line among them.

“You fucked us! We’ll fuck you!”

Feather stopped at sight of the pictures, showing a familiar trace of sadness in her eyes, which Fade recognized immediately. The last time she saw her mother looking at pictures like these, was when Fade drew a heroic picture of ponies fighting zebras. “Dad” was written on one of the soldier’s, sporting the blue and yellow suit of a prestigious Wonderbolt.

“The clinic is there.” The amplified metallic voice of the Ranger boomed through their helmet. “The city has a policy of treatment first, payment later. You!” He pointed at Key. “You can pay your debts in our camp. The Rangers adhere to the policy and our technicians can utilize your PipBuck diagnostic tools.”

Midnight sighed in relief as the Ranger left. “Go, get in there.” He nodded to the clinic. “I will try to organize some food.”

“Come. Let’s see how your mother is doing,” Feather put a wing over Key’s back as she slowly trudged into the clinic. At first Fade didn’t want to follow them into the clinic, yet whenever she sniffled she had that metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She grimaced and felt sick from it. “Damn it…” She mumbled and followed shortly after.

The clinic was kept dark to provide rest to the sick and injured ponies around. Deeper inside of what used to be a shop for dresses in the past, they heard the collective coughing and crying of ponies. After a short period a nurse emerged from the hallways and greeted them with a light yet exhausted smile. After a brief chat they learned where Shibboleth was located.

Key darted down the narrow corridors without a warning.

“Hey! Key, wait!” Fade called out, ready to chase after, but Feather held her back last second.

“We are not above the clouds anymore, Fade. Take it slow.”

With a frustrated sigh, Fade followed her mother to where Shibboleth was kept. Key was already on her hindlegs and her mother’s weak embrace, quietly crying and sobbing into her chest. Shibboleth slowly rubbed Key’s back to comfort her a little, while she also made sure that the IV in her foreleg wasn’t stinging her too much.

“How are you doing?” Feather said, sitting down on a small chair near the bed. “I am sorry that I dragged you here…”

Shibboleth smiled lightly. It was clear to Fade that Shibboleth realized that the apology was simply out of courtesy. “The doctor said I will get through. All I need is a good diet of orange stuff and healing potions.”

Fade sat down next to the door when she noticed a bucket filled with red slimy substances inside. In a moment of disgust she quickly shimmied away from it and shuddered.

“We can rest here for a few days,” Feather whispered. “Don’t worry, you are safe.”

Shibboleth just nodded and still tried to comfort her daughter.

Fade’s ears flicked when she heard steps approaching the room. The strange pattern told her that it couldn’t be hooves. She peeked out into the hallway and her hunch turned out to be true. A tall griffon was heading towards them, dressed in a dirty and bright yellow lab coat. His claws were clicking on the hard floor. The pink butterfly at the collar didn’t fit his scruff and ragged appearance, yet told Fade everything she needed to know about him at first glance.

“A pegasus?” He seemed surprised when he saw Fade. His beak slowly grew into a smile. “Don’t tell me the Enclave wants their griffons back.”

“Do I fucking look like Enclave trash to you, asshole?”

“Calm down lady. It was just a joke.” He stepped into the ward and examined both Shibboleth and the contents of the bucket. “The moment the Enclave learned that we wanted food instead of worthless money, they simply ditched us, you know.”

“That’s great, but don’t compare me to them.”

“Apologies.” The griffon sighed. “Well, do you know what happened after we were gone? Including the doctors?”

“They forcefully conscripted all civilian doctors,” Feather replied.

“Thank you.” The griffon sat down and put some disinfection agent on his claws. ”Alright let’s see… You don’t look in too bad shape. So a triage won't be necessary here. Hm, young Miss, you go first.”

“Why?” Key held tighter onto her mother, glaring at the griffon.

“It’s okay, sweety.” Shibboleth whispered. “Please forgive her, she never saw a griffon before.”

The doctor chuckled. “Don’t worry. Griffons don’t bite, unlike the ghoul who attacked you.”

“How do you know it was a ghoul?” Key skeptically raised an eyebrow.

“I have seen my fair share of ghoul bites. I know all the grizzly details and I promise you, I will make it better.”

Fade got up and sat down in front of the griffon, still glaring at him.

“My, my. What a brave pony.”

Key’s expression soured, even though the griffon was smiling.

“Hmm… Your father was a soldier, I assume?” He said.

“Uhm, how do you know that?” The question did not just stir up confusion in Key but the others as well.

“My parents were soldiers too. Growing up under warrior parents, it gives your eyes a certain look to them. When I look into your eyes, I see the same ones I would when looking into a mirror.” While he talked he carefully brushed Key’s mane aside to check the wound. “May I ask what your father does specifically? Medic, infantry, guard?”

“He was a Shadowbolt.”

“A Shadowbolt?” The griffon tilted his head. “So… your father is a pegasus? What a surprise indeed.”

“I said ‘He was a Shadowbolt.’”

“Key…” Shibboleth tried to sit up. “Your father is still alive.”

“Then why aren’t we making plans to save him?” Key turned her head, looking at her mother.

“We do, it’s just—”

“No, we aren’t! We make plans to go to Tall Tale, to go to Stalliongrad and whatever other stupid place, but we never talk about saving Dad! We barely even mention him!”

“Coming here is part of saving him…”

“That’s bullshit, Mom! We only talk about saving him, when you are around. The moment you are away, we don’t even mention Stable Fifty-Four!”

“Young Miss, please calm down,” the griffon said.

“Stop treating me like a child, you wanker!”

“Key!” Shibboleth winced and coughed when she had to raise her voice. “You will apologize to the doctor, right now!”

“Only when you accept that Dad got killed!”

Fade reached out with her hooves to calm her down. “Key, please stop!”

“You are not my sister, you fucking cunt!”

“You stop this in an instant!” Shibboleth yelled. “Your father is alive and he was not a Shadowbolt!”

“What is your fucking problem!” Key shouted. “Which letters of K.I.A. you don’t want to understand?” Her voice was cracking and tears were forming in her green eyes, so familiar to Fade. Before anyone could do anything, Key was already stomping out of the ward, leaving the clinic.

Fade rushed after her, out of the clinic and back into the wide and cold hallways. Key didn’t get far, only rushed down the hallway closest to them before stopping to rub her eyes. Fade galopped after her, even if her legs still hurt with every stride. “Key, come back! You need your medicine!” She tried to reason at first.

The young pony turned around, tears and rage in her eyes. “Stop pretending you would care about me!”

“I am not pretending! Just—Please come back.”

“Not pretending? The same way how Mom pretends that Dad is still alive?” Key’s voice shook and quivered.

“I know, but—”

“You know nothing! You just pretend to know, because you grew up without your father!” Her strained voice briefly caught the attention of ponies passing by.

“Don’t say such things, Key.”

“But Mom is allowed to say such things? Mom… Mom is allowed to lie to me?” Key rubbed her eyes again. “You know what? Fuck her! Dad wouldn’t have lied to me.”

“Key—”

“Shut up!” Key pushed her away, glaring at Fade with a deep rage in her green eyes. Her breath shook at the sight, almost as if she was gazing into a mirror of her own past self.

Key turned away from her to leave, only managing to walk a few more steps before stumbling and leaning against a nearby wall. Her body quivered and shook more when Key could no longer control her sobbing. She fell on her haunches and covered her face with her hooves.

Fade lowered her ears and sat down next to her in silence, simply putting a hoof on Key’s back. She didn’t say anything, afraid that she would hurt not only Key but herself as well. Key wept for a quite a while, until she suddenly turned to grab Fade for a tight hug. Her head sank into Fade’s lightly patted barding on her chest, unable to keep quiet. Fade, shocked by the sudden embrace, didn't know what to do. Even though Key’s embrace tightened, her body felt numb and heavy. Only after a long moment, Fade wrapped a wing around Key, just like Feather used to do with Fade in the past.

“I… I just want to bury him…” Key muttered silently.

Midnight slowly wandered through the many hallways of the underground shopping center. He forgot how huge the entire complex was and how many ponies it sheltered, but he didn’t recognize any of the faces around him and neither did they see him as a pony from Stalliongrad. For them he was just another stranger.

He ignored them and continued his search for food and a place to rest. He still remembered the halls being filled with the scent of tea and the sound of music. He still remembered how the ponies were talking to each other in a language, albeit familiar, felt so strange to him.

He didn’t really know where his hooves carried him until he found himself on a train platform, surrounded by high arches and marble walls. The golden light, he remembered so vividly, turned into a much more dull orange devoid of the warmth it once spread. He looked up at the cathedral-like ceiling, with its stucco and paintings of old monarchs. Their faces once filled with pride and regality were now pale and showed an expression of mockery; That the ponies below, with all their intellect, reason and arrogance ultimately failed. And so did he.

The only solace he found was a very faint glimpse of candle light at the end of the platform. There he found a golden mosaic of Princess Celestia, surrounded by an aura of pure sunlight made out of shimmering golden pieces. A banner was waving around her, reading:

“Mir I Garmoniya.”

“I tried. I really tried,” he whispered. He looked at the gentle face of the princess. He smiled but at the same time felt his body tensing up until he could no longer bear to even look at her.

He noticed many letters, photos and gifts forming a small shrine in front of the mosaic. The pictures were old, brittle and bleached out. The texts were barely readable and the few he could decipher were obituaries and wishes of dying ponies to join Celestia, wherever she went.

One specific letter caught his attention in particular. There was a picture of a chess piece. A black king, written underneath the pale words of “Vmeste Za Mir”.

Midnight quietly repeated these words. “Together For Peace.” Echoed in his mind. He smiled when the memories returned. Memories of peaceful protests. Memories of throwing black and white confetti all over the streets, of overpainting depictions of evil zebras with messages for love and friendship, of kissing zebras in public…

Of the smell of blood and fire.

“No…” Midnight had to remind himself. “Vmeste Za Mir.”

“Midnight?” Feather’s voice pulled him out of trance. “I thought I might find you here.”

Midnight shook his head. “What? I mean… What is with the others?”

Feather came a bit closer. “Let’s say you did a really good job getting us out of the snow.”

“Thanks…” He looked back at the note containing the chess piece, until Feather noticed it as well. “Oh, you found it.”

“You know about this?” His voice was a dreadful whisper.

Feather nodded. “You know… When I was here last time, I accidentally learned about this… entire thing. I didn’t think too much about it back then, but then we found the file in the security station—”

“The ponies here know about me?”

Feather shook her head. “Not quite. They know about your activist group and they told me a story. Did you know that a few hours before the bombs fell, the Shadowbolts shut down the entire line for an operation?”

“No? Why would the Shadowbolts come for my group?”

“I don’t know, but if you want to find something out and maybe finding a clue about Blue Sky—”

“Wait… I thought you didn't know him.”

“You know…” She briefly shook her head. “I don’t actually know him, but I remember that you asked. I thought that even though we are looking for different things… It seems that as long as you help us to find Killjoy, you may have a good chance of finding something about Blue Sky and the Shadowbolts and whatever happened here.”

“What do you mean with ‘here’?” Midnight inquired.

“You know… The locals told me where your hideout is. I can bring you there, but the sight of it… won’t be pretty. What do you say?”

Feather pointed Midnight to a narrow maintenance tunnel. The batteries in his flashlight were growing weaker but luckily it was still enough light to scare the rats away. The tunnel Fade led him through was well hidden, but there was no doubt that they were already discovered by the locals.

Midnight stopped when he noticed the signs of a battle. Scorched walls, bullet holes and not much later, pink dust. Not even the roaches wanted to eat the remains of a magically disintegrated pony. “Are you sure these were Shadowbolts?”

“Only Shadowbolts would use energy weapons against ponies.”

Midnight entered a small room. Its original purpose, if it ever had one, was lost. But it was clear that ponies lived here at one point in time. A corner draped with colorful pillows and blankets. A table for eating small meals and snacks. A radio, broken, but in the dust Midnight saw confetti and streamers. Amidst all of it, pink dust and skeletons with cut open skulls and rib cages, surrounded by black stains.

“Midnight?”

“What!” He replied harshly.

“I… I found something.”

He no longer treaded lightly, his steps were growing heavy; Almost violent. He ignored the wary look in Feather’s eyes and focused on what she held to him in her wing instead. A small dusty audio recorder. He frowned and grabbed the small device, immediately pressing the play button and awaiting its message.

“This is a message for White King... Everything prepared,” the voice of a young mare sounded from the tiny device. The voice was dull, ridden with static but Midnight still recognized the sound and sat down. “The bombs are primed and we will leave for— Wait, something is wrong!”

“Who goes there?” A voice further away spoke up and was answered with the garbled noise of an energy weapon. Shouting and gunshots flared up, followed by cries of panic and pain. A dull thud and the fight grew only in intensity until the recorder’s microphone could only record unintelligible noises.

Midnight froze in place, staring down at the device in silence as it finally turned off.

“I knew her…” He mumbled after what felt like an eternity. “She was only seventeen.” His head turned deeper into the hideout, his light brightening more rooms, senselessly built to expand the Stalliongrad metro system.

“You know… You don’t have to go any further,” Feather said.

Midnight huffed in response and got up, his hooves stomping further, whirling up gray and pink dust alike.

“Midnight!”

He turned around and, for the first time during their journey together, glared at her with anger in his eyes. Feather backed away and quietly remained in the darkness.

He continued his mad exploration and his hoof bumped against a metallic box. He looked down and found it surrounded by strange colorful gem dust. Unsure of what to think of it he simply kicked it away and continued onward. Even while looking around frantically he noticed the discolorations of plasma fire at the walls. A half molten skeleton laid in the corner, surrounded by the sludge of a destroyed rifle.

He stepped into one of the side rooms, where he found nothing else than the burned out remains of a dormitory. He couldn’t say how many ponies were in this room, yet alone tell apart bone shards from metal pieces.

He turned and found a plundered storage room. Inside was nothing but a cracked open skull, cut open from the skullcap to the muzzle, teeth simply scattered next to it.

Anger was slowly overwhelming him. He stormed into the last room and stopped when his heavy steps whirled up more pink dust that settled on his clothes as well as his coat. He saw it dancing in his light. He tried to remember the names, assigning some kind of identity to the disintegrated bodies. But he wasn’t able to conjure anything more than a vague color or the rough tone of a voice.

The dust was everywhere in this room. On the beds, the desk, the floor, the shelves… even the walls. This was when Midnight stopped his anger fueled rush and just stared in shock.

Pictures. Dozens, if not hundreds of photos and pictures were hanging on the wall. Cutouts from newspapers and polaroids alike, a triumphant gallery. Amidst the carnage that he witnessed, ever since he entered this place, he finally seemed to have found at least some good memories of the past and he remembered how it felt to smile.

The pictures however didn’t show what he believed or even wanted to find. They showed the same chaos, present all around him. Victorious and cheerful ponies posed in front of burning buildings, collapsed bridges and destroyed trains. He saw his old friends but could no longer assign names. And he couldn’t find the ponies from which he believed to still remember their names. But he saw the young mare, when she was no older than Key, maintaining a pistol with her magic.

Then he noticed himself. His coat was a deep gray, not dulled out by dust. His mane was a strong, dark blue, like the night sky. A wide smile with white and healthy teeth. His eyes looked so familiar, yet he didn’t recognize himself inside of them.

One picture caught his attention. The hillscape nearby Edmareton and a burning industrial complex in the background. In front was him, wearing his thick hat, so common in Stalliongrad. A modern rifle resting on his shoulder, just like the zebras would do. He smiled, almost as if he was actually happy.

Midnight hugged himself, his eyes starting to focus on the picture. No doubt if he still had the need to breathe it would have stopped at this very moment simply in pure shock, building rage. He was no longer able to hold back the anger growing inside of him, fueled by the rising confusion spearheaded by his discoveries. “This is not like me… It’s not like me!” He tore the pictures off the wall, his movements growing unsteady and wilder, not caring if he ripped and destroyed the last proof of his former friends or his past life.

“This is not like me!” He gasped again, growling loudly as his rampage continued throughout the room. Blinded and entranced by everything he had seen, he completely overheard Feather’s energy rifle buzzing as she charged it up. She watched him in this frantic state, ripping and tearing through the articles and photographs with both hooves and teeth, yet his anger wasn’t satisfied. He was lost in it and without anything else to lash out on he eventually stormed to the beds nearby, throwing them over and stomping down onto the frames until they broke. The pink dust was whirled up, almost blinding him when it settled down on his eyes, he didn’t even close anymore. All he could do was to let the feeling of violence control his body.

He turned to one of the many shelves lining the walls, still filled with books, plans, maps and documents, detailing all their operations, toppling them over with one with what little strength his body was able to give. Splinters tore into his legs as he trampled the files and documents as well as the remains of the wooden shelves. When there was nothing left he hurled the remains against the walls themselves. He stumbled back against one of the metal cabinets and gasped as he felt the suture in his leg tearing.

Midnight lost his balance and collapsed against the wall, forcing air into his body to push out one last cry, but all it did was to make his body convulse and shake like a seizure. He didn’t want to feel only violence anymore. He wanted to feel sadness, to feel alive… To be tired again. Suddenly he desired all the things he lost, things he thought he made peace with losing.

“This is not like me…” he whimpered and finally sank to the floor.

His body was shaking when the pink dust settled on him, slowly covering the gray and blue of his coat and mane. In front of him the dust was slowly covering a picture of both him, his friends and even a few zebras. He reached out and picked it up.

Something was wrong about it. It wasn’t his presence but rather an absence. Only now Midnight realized that a key component was missing in all the pictures.

“There… is no photo of Blue sky.”