Fallout: Equestria - The Storm

Fallout: Equestria - The Storm

Chapter 4: Slash and Gritt

***** ***** *****

“Trickshot!” The shrill voice coming from the street below dragged me out of bed and to the window. The wasteland had all sorts of creative alarm clocks, didn’t it?

“Trickshot, I’m calling you out! Get down here so I can end you!” The brown unicorn mare had a hay-colored mane, and her cutie mark, as ponies call the picture on their flanks, was a spine breaking in half. She wore a ratty duster that barely concealed a set of four large caliber pistols.

“Crack?” The little griffon buck yawned and stretched as he stepped out the saloon’s swinging doors. He gave the unicorn a smug chuckle. “I wondered where you were. You missed the party at Baltimare.” He stood up and walked on his hind legs, taking a place down the street from her. This was a duel.

Crack’s face twisted in rage as she spat into the dirt. “You killed my brother!”

Gritt’s cool, smug expression didn’t falter. “I’ve killed a lot of brothers.”

The slaver widened her stance, digging her hooves into the ground. The mercenary stayed completely relaxed. An orange glow flashed from her horn, magically grabbing all four of her guns and drawing them as fast as she could. It was a faster draw than I could have managed. Had I been her opponent, I’d have lost.

The tiny, skinny griffon was much faster. Impossibly faster. His claws moved like lightning as he drew his iron and blasted five shots from the hip in under a second. Each one hit their marks. Crack’s guns clattered to the street in pieces, and she let out a shriek of agony as her horn suffered the same fate. As his foe collapsed to the ground, writhing, Gritt holstered his revolver with a flourish. He lit a cigarette and turned around to go back into the saloon.

Crack looked up at him, and the pain on her face was replaced with renewed fury. She reached into her duster with her teeth and drew a combat knife, and charged. Gritt looked back at her, and let out a sigh of disappointment as he drew his pistol a second time. A moment later, the last round in his six shooter found its final resting place between the unicorn’s eyes. He muttered something to himself, and I could only make it out because the world around us was completely silent. “Three hundred, twenty seven.”

Slash had been watching calmly from the doorway. In fact, most of the town was watching. “You didn’t want to kill her?”

“She wasn’t part of the bounty,” Gritt admitted, looking at Crack’s crumpled corpse. “What a waste.”

*****

There was no way I’d keep up with the dragon without wings, and I figured a pegasus would draw too many questions. Not to mention, I didn’t know how I’d use my gun with just hooves. So I changed into a griffon. I also changed the rags covering my armor to a long coat. The bartender I rented my room from gawked at me as I passed him.

“Weren’t you a pony last night?” he said, rubbing his eyes with his hooves.

I raised an eyebrow at him and feigned confusion. “You really shouldn’t drink on the job.” He blinked, scratched his head, and shrugged.

Slash and Gritt were stocking up on supplies from the modest shops around town, the former mostly buying preserved meat, and the latter mostly buying ammo. I bought some things myself, If only to keep an eye on them. I was still pretty flush from Novac. It was time to decide how I’d handle this. If I tried to trail them all the way to Tenpony, there was a good chance they’d notice and assume I was hostile. That wasn’t a fight I could win.

The only choice was to convince them to let me travel with them. I flew ahead of the pair as they started towards the town gates and waved them down. Slash was curious, Gritt was suspicious.

“I, um, heard you were heading to Tenpony. I need to get to Manehattan, too, but I’d rather not travel alone.” The most effective way to lie was to tell the truth.

“Then I suggest you hire some-” Gritt began before Slash cut him off.

“Sure, the more the merrier!” the dragon blurted with a toothy grin. The griffon glared at her indignantly but didn’t argue with his employer. “You look like you’d be useful in a fight.”

Her smile faltered a little as she inspected me. She sniffed the air, then leaned close to me and sniffed again, her brow furrowing. I was thoroughly uncomfortable, and traded a glance with an increasingly confused Gritt.

“Uh…” I started.

The dragon looked genuinely concerned for this strange ‘griffon’ she just met. “You’re wearing ultracite? You know that stuff’s radioactive, right?”

How the fuck? Dragons can smell ultracite? Well, it is a kind of gemstone. Gritt’s eye went a little wide as he took a step away from me.

“I, well, it’s not that radioactive. I’ve gotten used to it, and the stopping power is worth it.” Changing forms didn’t remove my immunity to rads. My PipBuck would be blaring alarms at me if it did.

Gritt clearly thought I was a moron. “If you’re going to be willingly exposing yourself to radiation this whole trip, you’re drinking your own damn RadAway.” The thought of chugging more of the bitter orange fluid almost made me retch. It had the same poisonous effect on my kind as it would on a balefire phoenix or an alicorn. But I guess I had to keep up the illusion. “Let’s just hope you don’t ghoulify halfway there. Unless that’s what you’re after.”

*****

Ultracite was extremely rare outside the Storm Isles. I was immensely grateful that the dragon I was flying beside didn’t put two and two together. Unless she had, was good at hiding it, and was luring me into a trap. My impromptu companions would have plenty of opportunities, since Manehattan was far enough to require a couple of stops for rest.

Baltimare and Fillydelphia were along the way, and the odd couple discussed visiting MAS hubs in each of the cities. Gritt seemed fine with checking the Baltimare hub, but was extremely opposed to going anywhere near Fillydelphia, intending to fly around it.

I didn’t really understand why. Red Eye was long dead. The NCR and Applejack’s Rangers controlled most of the city now. There were pockets of warlords, but no real threats. I doubted that Gritt had bad blood with the aforementioned factions since DJ Pon3 sang his praises over the radio.

Then again, it didn’t really matter. According to Gritt, Hollow Shades was his usual detour to get past Fillydelphia. So either way, I’d be checking off a location on Tempest’s list.

“So, where did you get a PipBuck? Did your family come from Stable 14?” Gritt flew backwards to face me.

“Yeah. Family heirloom.” I knew from scout reports that Stable 14 was a griffon stable. We didn’t, however, know its location. The griffons that were asked either didn’t know or didn’t care to say. My PipBuck obviously couldn’t really be from there, but wastelanders wouldn’t know the difference.

“What’s your name, anyway?” Slash asked me.

“Red.” I gave a sheepish shrug. “My parents weren’t very creative.” I looked at Gritt. “Yours must have had some precognition to name you Trickshot.”

He huffed and spat. “That slaving cu-” He caught himself. “My mother just named me Gritt. ‘Trickshot’ is something DJ Pon3 started calling me, and it stuck.” That was all he had to say about that.

“And you?” I turned to the dragon.

She unbuckled and lifted her chest plate to reveal three large slashes angled down her torso. I was briefly tempted to use the opportunity to put some shots through her heart and eliminate the potential threat. The scarred flesh was a perfect weak point. But Gritt could have killed me the moment I went for my weapon. The sight of Slash’s exposed body incited other thoughts as well, treacherous in their own way. I hoped the dragon’s nose wasn’t as sensitive to pheromones as it was to rare materials.

“Dragons don’t always get their names at birth. Sometimes they earn them.” She began to explain. “I got this picking a fight with the Dragon Lord.” She pondered. “Well, ‘picking a fight’ isn’t really accurate. We got into an argument, and I pushed the wrong buttons. Opened some very old, very painful wounds.”

“Is that why you’re out here?” I asked, trying to learn her purpose as subtly as I could.

“Partially,” she responded. “I didn’t feel overly welcome in the Dragon Lands after that. It’s hard to feel safe at home after your grandmother nearly kills you.”

Gritt and I both looked at her in surprise. “You’re royalty?” the merc asked.

Slash shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Ponies are the ones obsessed with ‘royal bloodlines’. The title of Dragon Lord is earned through the Gauntlet of Fire, a free-for-all contest to determine the most capable of our kind. In the past, the Dragon Lord would step down and initiate the Gauntlet when they felt they were no longer fit.” She growled. “But Ember is so fucking stubborn, she’ll cling to the title until she dies, taking our whole race with her.”

The Dragon Lord finally had a name. Ember. Stubborn pride would explain why the dragons have so fiercely resisted our conquest. Considering their alternative was extinction at the hooves of the Enclave, one would think they’d accept the less severe fate.

“We couldn’t have a proper Gauntlet anyway. We don’t have the Dragon Staff.” She then smiled at Gritt. “But I’m fixing that.”

Dragon Staff… Why did that sound familiar? I tried to rack my mind back to meetings between the Admirals, some off handed comment about it… Nothing. Oh well.

Slash continued. “Her title was put into question when she lost it in the first place. If I retrieve it, I can invoke tradition and compel her to initiate the Gauntlet. A real leader can then finally step up and save our people.”

I felt my muscles relax, not realizing they had gotten tense. So, she’s just after some sort of symbolic badge of office? To cause a political shift among her people? That wasn’t a problem. Maybe this ‘real leader’ would be reasonable enough to accept my King’s terms. If not, we’ll simply maintain the status quo of conquering them the hard way.

*****

We made camp outside Baltimare as night fell. We’d been following the railway, and I lamented its lack of functionality. Things would be far easier if I could just take a train from place to place. The shelter we chose was a small concrete storehouse behind a dilapidated Super Duper Mart, long picked clean by scavengers. Radroaches were stomped or shooed off into the night.

“You haven’t had any RadAway in a while.” Slash spoke as she started to remove her armor. “And you might as well take that ultracite off for the night so you don’t have to drink more in the morning.”

Unable to explain why doing either was unnecessary, I obliged. This time, I couldn’t stop the rad-purging liquid from making me gag and cough. The dragon regarded me worriedly.

Gritt spoke up, “If RadAway is that nasty to you, you might already be ghoulifying.” He laid down against a pile of empty flour sacks, deliberately far from me. I tried to think nothing of it as I took my plate armor off and stuffed it into a saddlebag. My base layer stayed on, and I used the long coat as a blanket.

Slash, apparently having no sense of modesty, laid flat on her back by the fire she made, her arms folded behind her head, and her legs spread. I adjusted my sleeping position to face away from her, berating myself. Stop. Fantasizing. About the enemy.

*****

In the morning, Gritt got to explaining the local politics. What was left of the slavers were on the southeast side of town, along Horseshoe Bay. The north and east were inhabited by various scavengers and bandits. The two groups tended to prey on one another. Steel Rangers had a presence here a decade ago, basing themselves out of the Ministry District. The hubs now belonged to the largest local gang, the Hot Rods, who were using refurbished power armor to try and establish a safe zone.

“They’re good peeps.” Gritt said assuredly. “Sort of like Applejack’s Rangers, only without the pompous attitude and political baggage. I’ve done a few jobs for them, taking out the city’s loudest troublemakers. They want Baltimare to be somewhere honest people can make a life for themselves, free of squares. But there’s only so many of them, and a lot of assholes.”

“Alright,” Slash said, finally getting dressed, “we’ll fly straight to them.”

Gritt shook his head. “Flying over the open wastes where no one’s around is fine. Flying through a city full of wet rags itching to take pot shots is a great way to get killed. We take it low and slow, and stay out of the open.”

Slash groaned. “That will take all day.”

For whatever it was worth, I voted in Gritt’s favor. As impressive as Slash seemed, she had a severe lack of experience. It wouldn’t shock me if she actually thought she was bulletproof. Lots of dragons seemed to.

“I have a good idea of what paths are safe, who’s good, who’s bad, the whole shabang,” Gritt claimed. “This is the fastest, smoothest way to get to the MAS hub alive.”

*****

Crack! Crack, Crack! KaBOOM!

The abandoned sky wagon sent shrapnel throughout the street as it exploded, a stray bullet having found its way to something sensitive. Slash slumped behind a slab of bricks, clutching her shoulder. An armor piercing round had cut clean through her scales and muscle, but missed bone. Gritt tossed her a healing potion, which she quickly downed, then raised his rifle to blow the head off a scraggly griffon attempting to fly around and flank us. Her body tumbled and crashed through the roof of a rotting food cart. He pulled the bolt open, slipped in another .408 round, and closed it.

“See!?” he called out. “Flying in the city’s bad for your health!”

I did my best to close the distance to the remaining bandits. My scattershot laser repeater was a powerful weapon, but wasn’t great at range. I moved from cover to cover when Gritt had their attention, another one of their heads turning into red mist. After crawling under the rubble of a crashed tram, I was finally inside their foxhole. I slipped into SATS and queued attacks into the center mass of three surprised bandits.

Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh!

A griffon buck, a unicorn mare, and an earth pony mare fell to the ground, five smoking holes burning fresh in each of their torsos. Pony-made magical beam weapons dispersed energy on contact with a chance to disintegrate their targets. Storm Army energy weapons penetrated, burning deep wounds.

The last two, earth pony stallions armed with makeshift melee weapons, fled from me out into the street. Right into Slash. They let out pathetic yelps before they were engulfed in flames. The two were dead before their charred bodies hit the ground.

Gritt and I looted ammo and provisions, and futilely attempted to convince Slash to take a weapon. “I don’t need that shit. I’m a dragon.” is all she’d say. Stubborn pride. “I thought you said this way was safe?”

“I said it was probably safe,” Gritt defended. “Gang territory shifts on a daily basis. Besides, it is safe now. At least until another group of jokers move in.”

“Then we should move out,” I suggested, having finished lining the bodies beside each other, and covering them with fabric from the food cart. It was the traditional way to handle hostile casualties, or as close as I could get without proper body bags. I’d done the same with the Bone Dry Desert bandits, the pegasus raiders outside Tenochtitlan, and even the alicorn in the MAS dump site. Even though there wasn’t any logical point to it, military training was hard to shake.

“The Ministry District isn’t far, now,” our experienced guide elaborated. “We’re almost at the wall.”

*****

“Hey, nosebleeds! Where do you think you are? This is Hot Rod territory!” A stallion in surprisingly well-kept magical power armor stood atop a guard post. The vibrant flame paint job on the armor was just as impressive as the anti-machine cannons mounted on its sides.

“Don’t give me that shit, Peepers. Open the damn gate.” Gritt’s good-spirited tone betrayed his words. Peepers laughed and pulled a switch, and the graffiti-laden doors slowly swung open.

A filtered whistle escaped Peepers as Slash passed through. “Nice colors, babe! Natural born Hot Rod material! Don’t even need plates!”

Slash took the compliment in stride, blowing the armored stallion a heart-shaped ring of fire as if it were a kiss. Peepers swooned.

Baltimare’s Ministry District was a walled-in community, consisting of a main street stretching a few blocks, hubs for each ministry being the most prominent buildings. Flame-painted armored Hot Rods patrolled up and down. Some without helmets, revealing that their paint matched the color palettes of their coats and manes. There were more ponies and creatures here than I expected, tending to crops, working on infrastructure, trying to create a better life. There was even a school house full of foals and fledglings, the flag of the Followers of the Apocalypse flying above it. Quite a foreboding name for an organization devoted to the peaceful reconstruction of Equestria. All things considered, this place was thriving.

“Why don’t the bandits and scavengers just stop and live here instead?” I asked.

“Because they’d have to work,” Gritt answered, “and not just take what they want.” He lit a cigarette and took a drag. “A lot of the people here were scavengers, bandits, and even slavers. The smart ones, who realized they couldn’t go on the way they were forever.” He gestured to the gates. “Unfortunately, there’s a lot of stupid ones left.”

“A few less now,” Slash remarked coldly. A smile brightened her face as a group from the schoolhouse approached her.

“A dragon!” “Dragon!” “A pretty dragon!” The kids giggled and danced around her as she sat down in the grass, wagging her tail. Slash didn’t seem to mind at all as they poked and prodded at her scales, spines, and armor. In fact, she seemed to enjoy their innocent silliness.

“Excuse me! Little ones! I’m so sorry!” A silky sweet voice called out to the children, a charcoal unicorn mare trotting after them. She had a flowing white mane with streaks of red and gold, and sky blue eyes. She wore a white coat, saddlebags made from Ministry of Peace medical boxes, and a golden PipBuck.

I was face to face with the Element of Kindness, Velvet Remedy.

***** ***** *****

Footnote:
Welcome to Level 5!

Perk Added: Center of Mass! You don't fool around with fancy shooting. Straight to the midsection and down they go. In SATS, you do an additional 15% damage with attacks targeting the torso.

Companion Perk Added: Duelist’s Draw! You’ve learned a thing or two watching Gritt’s gunslinging skills. With Trickshot in your party, activating SATS while your weapon is holstered increases your first target’s chance to hit by 20%.

Companion Perk Added: Bandit Brulee! Why just shoot a bad guy when you can also set them on fire? When Slash is in your party, low karma hostiles have a 10% chance to burst into flames from any attack.