Fallout Equestria: Desperados V3 (Bonds of Platinum)

Fallout: Equestria

Desperado’s V3: Bonds of Platinum

Ch 11, Culture, Part 1.

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“It wasn't my fault! The fools did it to themselves!” A stallion yelled, a baron I think, his name forgotten. “You must understand my Queen, those peasants, they're just too stupid and spoiled!”

Even from behind the sheet of cloth that hid me from view, I could still see how displeased my mother was. Silver Majesty sitting next to her in her wheelchair looked bored, Rare Pearl on mother's other side was staying stoic, and my other two siblings were elsewhere dealing with the fallout of this monstrous idiot’s actions.

“Though I do agree that the peasantry are lacking in proper education.” Gilded Gold said slowly, loudly, and with authority on her throne. “But, their job isn't to manage the station. Their job isn't to order new parts for the air filters or to make sure it's of good quality. Just as it isn't their job to hire outside workers to properly fix the filtration unit when it gets clogged with pollen.” Mother's eyes narrowed at the baron. “That was your job. And yet you're alive as an entire station choked and died!”

“It wasn't my fault!” The baron argued.

“Silence your pitiful excuse!” Mother bellowed. “You didn't think I wouldn't have found out? That you took my coin, coins meant for the maintenance of your station and pocketed most of it. You paid the maintenance workers next to nothing, who then paid bandits to do the work for them… who then forced vagrants to do that work at gunpoint. Not only did the wildlife from the surface get it and block off the tunnels, but those vagrants reinstalled the pumps backward without any filters. The pollen didn't just slowly drift in, it flooded the station, killing everypony! And where were you? Oh, that's right, you were at the Lucky Rabbit's Foot, gambling away all of my coins meant for the station!”

The baron could only look at the ground, his execution all but ensured.

A disaster like this hadn't happened since the unification of the Orphic Queendom. An entire station was lost, both flooded with toxic pollen and mutant animals. It can be recovered, but only at great cost, yet the Queendom’s reputation would forever be marked by it. And why? All because a baron was too lazy to do his job, and had a gambling addiction.

So many died all for that.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The baron screamed in terror as the royal guard dragged him away.

“Princess Harp Melody! Come forth!” Stratus Dancer, the captain of the royal guard, called out.

Trotting into view and before my mother, I kept my head low.

“You know why you're here?” She asked.

I nodded. “I… made an unforgivable mistake.”

The cackling of a younger mare startled me as I looked up and saw Red Steel sitting on my mother's throat. Silver Majesty was still there, but in Rare Pearl's place was my nephew, Silver Crescent. “The death of a station is bad, worthy of death.” Red Steel said to me, then licked her lips, showing off her ring’s pierced tongue. “So what about the death of a Queendom? What punishment do you deserve?” She asked with a playful tone as she balanced one of her darangers on her hoof.

A lump formed in my throat, not letting me answer. This only causes the crimson unicorn to smile, her silver mane fluttering in the windless stable. “How is it that you live where others have died?” Red asked. “Why did so many sacrifice for you, only to have been betrayed by you?”

I stumbled back, tripping on a pony.

Stratus Dancers lay there, body slightly charred, face bloated, and several twitter mites crawling over her. “I protected the crown for what?” Stratus asked with a pain-filled voice.

Getting up, I bumped into a medical bed, on it was my mother, strapped to a computer as she slowly died. “Everything our family built, gone!” She rasped.

“It should've been you!” Sweet Sax said blood dripping from her gouged-out eye sockets.

“How many are dying still because of you?” Rototom asked, her head dangling from her neck by only straps of frayed flesh.

Trying to get away, my hooves treaded water, and I found myself in the middle of a pool filled with corpses. I recognize their faces, the staff and lower nobles from Stable 50, all looking at me as they floated there, blaming me.

“It's alright, Harp, you're just having a nightmare.” She spoke to me, calm and caring.

I turned to see Vibraphone, alive and well. “I'm… so sorry,” I said to her,

Vibraphone sighed. “It's alright, I don't blame you, so just come here.” She told me.

I trotted to my friend, my very alive friend. Her kind golden eyes soothed me. Embracing her with a hug, she patted me on the back. But as I hugged her, I saw another pony in the distance. Galloping at us, clad in black armor, and missing its head.

Fear welled up in me and I tried to let Vibraphone go, but she didn't. “I'm not letting you go yet, Harp, not when you have so many secrets for me to discover.”

Her embrace became cold as the headless pony got closer, and the colder I became, so did everything get darker. Soon everything felt frozen, and my vision was pure unnerving black. All except for a small blue flame, so small that even a breeze could snuff it out.

I reached for the little flame, but it was just too far away, too out of reach. It wasn't worth the effort.

A pale white hoof then grasped mine, helping me reach out further, and I felt warmth again, even though the flame was still too far away.

“Hope is only out of reach if you give up.”

The voice, was everywhere and nowhere, both beautiful and terrifying.

As I continued to reach out, I felt at peace, letting my eyes rest and forgetting why I felt so scared in the first place.

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Morning came like it had before, with Cherry letting the light in as Star grumbled and hid her face from the sun. Henbane was covered in nightstalkers and some large lump snored loudly in the middle of everything.

What, who was that?

Stretching and getting up, I trotted to the forren lump, looking around to count heads. The other mares were accounted for, meaning we had an extra pony. With a sigh, I pulled the blanket off the lump to see who it was.

It took my mind a moment to remember, as the purple mare lay there on her back, bent over a pillow, in some sort of nightgown, and with her mouth wide open as she snored. Right, It was Fizzy Fusion Pop, our newest addition. And right now I was looking at her pair of large tits, my mind still needing time to process what exactly I was looking at.

“Ya, I know. Makes a mare feel a bit inadequate looking at those.” Cherry said to me.

“How… Can she even trot with those?” I asked, still baffled. Everything about her was big, with the mare being a bit tall, her hips a bit wide, and her breasts outclassing anything I'd seen.

Cherry chuckled at my question. “Maybe ask her later, but right now, probably best not to stare so much, it is rude after all.” She suggested as she pulled the blanket back over Fizzy.

Nodding, I trotted over to my clothes to get dressed, Cherry again helping me with my mane and tail.

“Say, maybe you should go down to the old gift shop. The mares there are embroidering the dresses you got.” Cherry suggested.

Star let out a yawn, her eyes still tired from lack of sleep. “Right, they did gush over that. Also suggested turning that red cloth into winter cloaks for the foals, something to do with it being easily seen in the snow.” She then yawned again.

“Maybe, I know a bit about embroidery, but only a bit. And Star, how long were you up?” I asked my friend.

She shrugged and then looked at her pipbuck. “Damn, it's only been an hour since I turned in!”

Raising an eyebrow at her, I had to ask. “What did you do all night?”

Star chuckled. “Just talking, and drinking. The mare, Lair, she's a bitch, but I don't know… She's also kind of alright.”

I could only guess it was because they had similar ancestry or something. “And did you learn anything from her?”

Again Star yawned. “A little. She's tight-lipped on most things, even when drunk, but was willing to let me know about the open stuff. Such as, it turns out her family is something called a branch family, and the main family is called the Blackhearts. Supposedly they are something of a big deal on the Celestia Ocean to the east. The Darkhearts are just known for growing pomegranates on their home islands and brewing booze from them. Wine and rum mostly, and they can grow the fruit in cold weather like it's some big deal… I don't know, I know nothing about fruits.”

“Anything else?” I further probed.

“Ahh…Right, right.” Star let out one more, and longer yawn, causing me to yawn as well. “Lair also knows that Thorn isn't some prophet, saying she was from some family called the Redrums, and age-old rival to the Blackhearts, as she put it. Hollow believes in it, but from how Lair talks about her sister, Hollow was spoiled by their mother into being a copy of her, so less thinking and more doing as mother orders kind of thing. Oh, and if we do intend to go out into pirate waters, having the Blackhearts on our side would make things far easier.”

I gave Star a skeptical glance and she rolled her eyes. “Ya I know, we can't trust her or her family. But I think we can strike a reasonable deal.” She told me. “Still, it may be some time before we need to do anything like that, so at least give it some thought.”

“You're… probably right.” I conceded to Star. “It's clear that Lair isn't related to the ponies that raided my home. And we might be able to use them if possible. But I get the feeling it would be like choosing to fight timber wolves over land sharks.”

One more big yawn came from Star as she patted me on the shoulder. “Ya, I get that. But that's why we got guns. Anywho, I'm going back to sleep, wake me up if there's an emergency.”

Trotting off, Star found an empty mattress and flopped down, a strand of her mane grabbing a blanket and tossing it over her head.

Letting my mane loose to bounce back into its curl, Cherry took a step back, having finished getting me dressed. “If you want my opinion, then you should never underestimate how petty some ponies can be, even to their detriment. My own Pa couldn't let go of some generational blood feud, and he didn't even know why they started fighting. It's why I left home, the fucker poisoning our well just so they couldn't use it.”

“Or like how Ashy Oaks couldn't let go of her hate,” I said in agreement. “Like Star asks, I'll think about it. But until then, we should go eat.”

“Can… I join?” A groggy Fizzy asked as she stumbled over.

Her mane and tail were a mess, hiding her face, yet having a strange allure to it. How her purple and pink nightgown hung off her, and how she stood with a slight slope was a bit much to be not intentional.

Cherry let out a whistle. “Damn, you got that sexy morning mare look down, Fizzy.”

Fizzy yawned as she rubbed her face. “Well I had a lot of training, now it's hard to not do it anymore.”

Before Cherry could ask, I changed the subject. “That aside, ya, you can come with us to eat. You are technically one of us for the time being.”

“Thanks,” she said right before hugging me, her mane engulfing me and smelling of soda.

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This time our morning meal was a hardy rad-bit stew with actual fresh fluffy bread. Turns out that the Desperados here have a surplus of razorgrain flour and yeast, and Arras’s herd were quite proficient in baking bread. As for the drinks, we got pomegranate grog, provided by Lair as a sort of gift. I wasn't thrilled about drinking so early in the morning, but the drink wasn't all that strong and tasted rather nice.

Cherry Knot and Henbane were enjoying the newish dresses I had bought, looking more normal now that they weren't in their NCRCF shirts.

Fizzy herself was in a Sparkle-Cola-themed jumpsuit, heavily stained with purple and brown splotches, along with some red that glowed slightly. Her mane was tied back with a bandana, and she had her thick glasses on. The outfit did well to hide her breasts, along with the rest of her body, making Fizzy look more plain, if a bit eccentric.

We were also joined by Live Axle, who had her usual Desperados outfit on, but with Slowtrots oversized jacket over it. As much as Live avoided the subject of her engagement to Slowtrot, it was clear she wasn't against it.

Together, the five of us made our way down to the old gift shop and parking lot, trotting through where all the vehicles were being kept. The ponies were all busy here, with stallions working on the different vehicles, and mares mending or washing clothes. A lot of attention was on the Smuggler, where I saw Slowtrots, Tire Fire, and Crankshaft working on it for an audience.

“Uhhh, what's going on there?” I asked.

“New vehicles always get shown off.” Live Axle said matter of factly. “It's to compare it to other vehicles and to see if they can be improved. I guess since Slowtrots is not busy, they have him answering questions about driving it. You should go see Daisy Chain, they took her apart.”

“They what!” I said in shock.

“It's fine,” Henbane said with a chuckle. “Crankshaft and Tire Fire have been overseeing it. That old bulldozer was in major need of maintenance anyway, and its armor is being upgraded. There were also talks about adding an actual cannon to it. When they're done, Daisy Chain will be a proper tank.”

So that's where those two had been most of yesterday. “So I guess the motorcycle is getting the same attention?” I then asked.

“Naw, not yet,” Live said with a hint of annoyance. “Mom grabbed it as soon as we arrived and placed it right up next to my sister. She thinks it will soothe Dead's soul or something.”

That was both morbid and rather sweet. As much as Rack End was a scary mare, she loved her family deeply.

As we trotted through the ancient parking lot, the sheer variety of motor wagons and other vehicles still astounded me. Though now there were lots more motorcycles and other smaller vehicles, most marked with a flaming skull wearing a horned helmet. I guessed it had to do with the Warband Desperados being made up of younger fighting-age ponies, who relied on mobility to get around. Where the Rout 50 Desperados was made up of families, who needed extra room, with the ability to haul their supplies and tents.

The Warband's vehicles were also decorated with what looked to be trophies, some being weirdly crafted weapons, torn cloth, and morbidly quite a few of what were clearly scalps. The unmistakable look of dried skin attached to a mane was proudly on display on many of the vehicles, along with knives, axes, and other sharp implements attached to them.

“Don't worry about that,” Live said, almost reading my mind. “Ya, those scalps are real, but it's mostly just for intimidation. We mostly take them from raiders and such, or are given to us by tributaries who had to execute a criminal. Then when more reasonable ponies start causing trouble and see that, they calm the fuck down real quick.”

“Wouldn't having guns be enough for that?” I ask, trying to see why this was necessary.

“You would think,” Henbane said with a hint of annoyance.

“ya, that's sadly true.” Cherry agreed.

“What is,” Fizzy asked.

Live Axle let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, some ponies don't get the message when you pull out a gun, and turn whatever is going on into a stupid game. Probably because you can survive getting shot if ya got a healing potion on ya. But getting scalped, oh you can survive that too, but you ain't going to be regrowing that mane.”

That… disturbingly made a lot of sense. I still remember getting shot and bleeding out during the prison break. It hurt, yet I recovered. But if I lost my mane… Fuck! I wouldn't be able to live like that. “Ya, I think I would rather get shot.”

“You and me both,” Live said.

Leaving the vehicles behind, we arrived at the old gift shop, the ancient store looking well cared for despite its age. It had signs of wear and tear, such as all the windows being replaced by canvas, and the building being reinforced around large cracks and filled in holes. The large sign “Clover Hill Gift Shop” looked as though it had been damaged and repaired many times as well.

Entering, the inside was well illuminated with both artificial lights and candles, letting us see the open floor where several mares sat, along with quite a few foals. Beautiful tapestries hung all over, and on the floor was a rather large rug with patterns of yellow, orange, white, and black. The building also had a pleasant smell of lavender and… fresh bread.

Looking around, I saw a counter that had a plate of bread on it, steam drifting off of it. “Wait, is this where you made that bread?”

“We have a small bakery in the back, as well as a proper kitchen.” Thunder Crack said as she trotted over. “Even I got a bit giddy when I first saw it. As it turned out, the Desperado's extensive cooking culture is why I decided to join them. My husband is quite the chief, even taught me a thing or two.” She then picked up the plate with her wing and offered it to us. “Take one while it's still hot.”

The five of us took a bread roll each, biting into it, and it was good. Not too hard outer crust and a soft doughy inside that melted in my mouth. It was familiar, yet very different from the bread from just earlier. It tasted like razorgrain instead of wheat or flax, but something was weirdly familiar.

I don't know why, but it then clicked. “Potatoes?”

Thunder let out a laugh. “That's amazing! Ya, we used potatoes to make that bread. Sky potatoes to be exact, mix a bit of it with the razorgrain flour, and you now have more dough than before. Tastes good despite how it shouldn't.”

“Now how the f… darn did you think of this?” Cherry asked.

Live, predictable, was the one to answer. “Old wartime recipes. From what Big Papa says, most good food was going to the war, so ponies had to get creative. With stuff like flour becoming scarce, I guess they just found ways to use other stuff to make the flower last longer.”

“Didn't think they could do much with sky potatoes, or any sky food for that matter.” Thunder said with a shrug. “Proved us wrong when the Desperados got to cooking all of our bland crops. Unfortunately, growing those crops in the wasteland hasn't been so easy.”

“Worse, the tributaries that grow them are almost all in the mountains to the west. Since they need elevation to grow” Live, explained.

That didn't sound good. Not only were those crops in the conflict zone, but there was also the problem of the Enclave if they needed to be higher up.

A sigh came from Henbane. “That sounds about right. Sky crops are cursed, if you believe the rumors. The ponies who tried to grow them, well, it worked the first year, but the next, nothing at all. Only a hoof full of ponies managed to grow them successfully, and most of them were ex-enclave. The rest, they either had to give up or starve to death.”

I finished my roll, tasting not just the bread, but other little bits inside it. “But don't you have normal potatoes? From what I remember, they should grow almost anywhere?”

“You can still find mutant ones growing in the wild, but the Zebra wiped out most of the crops at the end of the war.” Thunder explained. “It didn't help that the Ministries had centralized most of the farms, making them easy targets. And what did survive, radiation storms finished off. It's why the closest this to a proper potato that anypony can grow are tatos.”

That… was a depressing fact.

“Well, if I ever get in contact with my father, I'll be sure to request a bank of seeds be sent to the Desperados. The Marewaii Islands managed to preserve our crops when we moved the farms underground. The vertical garden in my stable is like a forest of food.”

I felt a pinch in my heart as I remembered picking cabbage with Stratus Dancer, and how she'd fly about looking for the best head to eat.

“Well, I don't know much about farming, but if you got unmutated seeds, then you'll have farmers willing to kill to get them.” Thunder said with a chuckle, then motioned for us to join the other mares. “Now enough about food, we got some dresses to hem up and make pretty.”

“Excuse me?” Fizzy then spoke up. “Is it okay to use the kitchen, I want to see if I can brew some soda?”

Thunder cocked an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Ya, if you want. But you sure, everypony is going to be here, so you'll be all on your own in the kitchen.”

Fizzy smiled at that. “Oh that's fine, I like to be on my own when I brew.”

I still didn't quite get her, at one moment Fizzy is like a social butterfly, and then she goes all wallflower. But it's better than her just hugging everypony, so I wasn't going to stop her.

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As it turned out, sitting around and sewing up clothing with other mares was rather relaxing. Mostly we were patching up holes and adding an extra layer to the dresses to prepare for winter, with the embroidery helping to keep it all together. I wasn't the most skilled at this, compared to the other mares, as magic was more my expertise, but I did enjoy the conversation.

Surprisingly, among the dresses being hemmed up, was one rather beautiful white one that looked both old and very well cared for. Stupidly, I had to ask about it, only to find out it was Rack Ends wedding dress, now being refitted for Live Axle. The other mares poked fun at her as Live avoided the subject, focusing hard on her embroidery.

Live was good at embroidery, stitching out elaborate patterns along the hem of a dress. They were of flaming skulls and other Desperado type of stuff, but beautiful in their own right.

Cherry did as well as I expected, even cutting up a few dresses to change up the design and make them more stylish. As for Henbane, it was like she had two left hooves, stabbing herself with the needle more often than anypony else here.

“So, what did you do back home, Miss Harp?” One of the other mares asked. “I'd imagine you'd be lots better at this with how dainty ya are.”

“My family did buricatic work, so I mostly studied,” I explained. “Even if I wasn't to take up any major responsibilities, it would still be expected of me to aid my chosen husband in the administration of his territory. Along with hosting social gatherings, and maintaining any acano-tech. Due to the nature of my homeland, those in power have a lot of responsibilities, of which many ponies would die if we didn't fulfill those responsibilities.”

One of the mares chuckled. “That got ta be a real pain in the toosh, I say. Amazing how ya even still alive with how ready to fall apart your home sounds. Makes me love old Route 50, as the tributaries don't need much attention and all. They do their thing, pay us with stuff we need, and in return, we make sure nobody messes with em.”

“It's not that simple, you know that.” Thunder's correct the other mare. “Theirs breaking up fights, settling feuds, exterminating mutants, maintaining the roads, and providing aid when needed. That aside, we try not to bother the tributaries when possible.”

It did sound far more relaxed than back home, though I wouldn't mind a tea party now and then. As tedious as it was to help organize and host the social events for the lower nobility, I did miss my dresses.

Lifting a leg, the jacket Father gave me had seen better days. It was a rather sturdy thing, but it had gotten damaged here and there. Looking over at Live Axle, she had already been mending and modifying Slowtrots jacket to her taste, having even removed the “R&D” patch and placed a Desperados patch in its place.

“Say, Harp, that jacket, mind if we borrow it?” Thunder Crack asked.

Thinking about it, I figured it wouldn't hurt for them to mend it for me. “Sure,” I told her as I removed the jacket and hoofed it over to Thunder. “Are you just going to fix it up?”

The pegasus chuckled. “Of course. But I was also thinking of adding a layer to it for winter. Maybe make it more appropriate for a herd leader while we're at it.”

It was getting chillier since we got to the other side of the mountains, so an extra layer wouldn't hurt. “That sounds like a fantastic idea?”

Letting them be, I trotted over to check on Fizzy, the mare now filling in a few rocket-shaped bottles. The kitchen itself was a bit of a mess but had a sense of order to it in this madness.

“You work fast,” I told her.

Fizzy passed me a bottle with a big smile on her face. “It's easy when you know how, and when you're making small batches.”

Looking at the bottle, it was frosty, and the soda inside was bubbling. “um, how'd you chill and carbonate this?” I then took a sip and found a pleasantly mild fruit taste, not too sweet, and very refreshing. “Wow, this is good!”

Lifting a bottle to show me, Fizzy’s magic enwrapped the bottle. “I learned a few spells when I was working at the brewery.” The drink inside began to bubble as frost formed on the outside. “Just carbonate and frost, but that's all I need to make good cola. The drink itself isn't as good as it could be, no molasses to add in for sweetening, or any caffeine, but plenty of mutfruit. Maybe if we ask those Darkheart sisters, if they can make rum, then they must have sugar or molasses.”

That was… impressive. Taking another sip of the drink, I was starting to see the benefits of keeping Fizzy around. “A shame about what happened there, I'm sure it was a great loss to them to have lost you.”

“I hope not. The brewmaster is a good mare, and her son… he was just tricked, that's all.” Fizzy said meekly, defending her unfaithful ex.

I rolled my eyes at that, feeling annoyed on her behalf. “You know you're allowed to be angry.”

Fizzy nodded. “I know, and I was. But I'm over it now.” I cocked an eyebrow at her suspiciously. “Well, mostly over it.” She then admitted.

Letting out a sigh, I patted her on the shoulder. “Fizzy, if you ever feel like venting, just let me know. Trust me, I have ponies I hate as well.” Looking at her mess, I got to wondering. “Hey, can you cook?”

The mare smiled wide. “Of course I can. The brewmaster taught me all sorts of things about how to be a good wife. Dessert Salad, Caravan lunch, Wasteland omelet, and other meals a hungry husband might need, and it was really fun to make too. Miss Mag also taught me about brewing tea and making biscuits. Not to mention the mixology I learned in the Ursas Den.”

That was good to know. Other than Henbane and Live Axle's ability to grill stuff, no one in our group was all that good at cooking. I wasn't as excited about cola as she was, but having a pony who knows how to make proper food and drinks was something I missed. It was a shame Fizzy wasn't with us when we were at Percussion Cap's farm, as I'm sure this mare would have made something nice.

A knocking came from the kitchen's entrance, and we turned to see Cherry Knot. “Hay, Harp. There's a pony here to see you. Not urgent, but sooner the better.”

“Thanks for letting me know, I'll be out shortly.” I then turned to Fizzy and smiled. “Here, let me help you clean up.”

“Oh, thanks!” Fizzy replied as we both quickly got to work cleaning the mess she made.

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