Fallout New Vegas: A New Road

The moon and stars lit up the night sky over Canterlot. The normally lively city had gone quiet as the day died off, giving way for the Princess to raise the moon, ushering in the darkness that came with it. Only a few ponies walked the stone roads now, likely on their way home. Atop a balcony on the grand castle that was the centerpiece of the kingdom stood a lone, purple alicorn.

Twilight looked down at the city with a small smile. How many years had it been since she’d left this place for Ponyville, and now she was back, permanently this time. She slowly strolled up to the balcony’s edge, and then a moment later put her forehooves up onto the guard rail. It was cold to the touch as she rested herself on it.

She stared down at the city for a few moments, before fixing her gaze off of the mountain top. She looked towards Ponyville, and her eyes remained locked in that direction for a good while. She could see it had expanded a little bit since the months she’d left it.

A few new houses here and there, some more construction work dotting the landscape that had been barren a few years back. She cataloged these new details, taking them in and making mental notes of them to leave to herself. It came naturally to her, given her previous affinity with charts and the like.

So lost was she in her musings she didn’t notice the pitter patter of small feet approaching her. Only when a small purple drake was right beside her did she look down, having caught a large green scute atop his head out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh, hey Spike,” she spoke, surprised and a twinge embarrassed.

“Reminiscing about Ponyville again?” the little dragon asked with a sly smirk.

“Yeah,” she huffed, turning her homesick gaze back towards the town in question, “I know the girls will come to visit me soon but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Aw come on Twilight, it’s fine to have those feelings,” he said, patting her on the back softly. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not now Spike,” she said, her tone somber, though she managed a small smile. “I’m thankful, truly I am, but I’ve got a lot of work on my plate tomorrow and I don’t have time for an impromptu therapy session.”

“Alright, I’ll be here when you need me,” he assured, still her most loyal assistant all this time later.

“I know you will, Spike,” she said, resting one of her wings over him for a quick, thankful hug, which he returned. “Sometimes, I just need a few moments to clear my head. I’ll be back inside in a minute.”

“Hey, no problem, I get ya,” he said, breaking off the wing-hug a moment later to leave the Princess of Equestria alone.

Truth was, as much as she loved her land and the creatures in it, a small part of her wished things could have remained simpler. She knew others had twinges of it too. To relive the glory days, even if it was just one last time. Despite that, all things changed, no matter how hard anypony or creature tried to keep them the same. To fight such a thing is useless, and besides, she could do so much more for her subjects in her new position.

She soon banished these scatterbrained musings, letting her take in serenity of Lu-... Her night sky. Such a strange sensation, knowing that after all this time it was now hers to command. Regardless, it was beautiful as always.

As she looked up at the stars, she wondered about what lay beyond. Not exactly in a cosmic sense, but the existence of the human world, and other universes and timelines would leave her pondering on occasion. There was so much out there unexplored and undocumented. Traces of her old scientific self bubbled up at pondering those thoughts.

Above even that though, there were those out there who never felt the warm embrace of friendship. She couldn’t exactly worry about that idea too much, after all, she had her own country, her own friendship-less subjects to help in their times of need. Still though, she did wonder what exactly she would do had she met anycreature like that…

The sun beat down harshly onto the sandy dunes below. Everything that could scatter from its unbearable heat had already. The lizards, desert toads, rats, and other critters hid underneath any shade they could find. The blazing sensations of summer had once again broken out across the numerous great deserts that covered the American Southwest.

It hadn’t been any easier for those who wandered and roamed a lot either. Just as many had died in the Wasteland before, so too did more die day after day, either because of the temperature, or some other, worse fate.

Though, in the great, vast emptiness that was laid out before the searing sun above, one lone figure braved the heat and the sands that were now being carried by the winds, which themselves had begun to rapidly pick up pace. He was a stranger in a strange land. A wanderer, if you will. Though, in the modern world, few weren’t.

He was adorned in a wide variety of things, though the most notable currently were the several large duffle bags he currently carried, which largely obscured the flowing duster he wore. There were three in total and all of them were dark navy green colored and had extremely sturdy looking stitching.

One was tightly lashed against his stomach by sturdy looking belts. It jingled and jangled a bit as he walked, producing muffled clinking sounds with each hefty footstep. The other two of these were strapped to his back, along with a massive hiker’s backpack that gave his impressively bulky frame even more width to it

Several strange peculiarities adorned it, as what looked like the paw of a large bear was sewn into it. A large sleeping bag was strapped to the top of it too. Not only that but strapped sturdily to his spine underneath said pack was a large metal briefcase with a big yellow and black atomic symbol etched into it. No doubt the metal was scorching hot from the sun’s rays, though he didn’t seem to mind.

It was a larger lead-lined container he’d found in his trek through the Divide. A durable one at that, no doubt one of the reasons he took it with him for his long-haul travels. A worthy addition to his nearly over encumbered state.

Despite being packed to the gills and looking armed for bear, he easily strolled through the haze and the sand without issue, not stopping or looking even slightly tired as he trekked forwards. While he seemingly had no destination on his mind, his gait oozed determination and sturdiness, as he did not stumble despite all of the excess weight he was carrying.

He reached the top of a nearby sand dune and paused, looking down across the landscape that lay ahead. There was nothing yet. He couldn’t see signs of civilization at all. All that existed were many dead or dying shrubs and the sandy remains of the occasional collapsed building, merely olden ruins to remind him of what had once been here.

Not much law out here, at least compared to the NCR, and even Legion lands or Vegas before the Battle of the Dam. Legion’s hold was or, rather, used to be tight, but he suspected that even whenever they were a true superpower, this was a dead zone, as it contained nothing to grow or loot or control. That was likely a good thing, or at the least some small part of himself looked at it that way. No Legion. No NCR. Just sand and man, as nature intended.

The man stood, his duster billowing as much as it could through the restraining bags. He took one breath, inhaling and then exhaling quickly. An act that was muffled by the armor that adorned his head and face. It was a combination between a gasmask and a military-grade protective helmet. A pair of bright crimson lenses poked out amidst the brown and grayish color scheme of the mask.

Deep green segments of plate-like armor adorned his shoulders, forearms, and knees. They were all banged up and scratched, no doubt from extended use. This usage was obvious even more when looking at his duster, which had numerous holes and patchwork sewing jobs that dotted it, though it was a bit harder to notice currently given the large nylon bag that was so closely strapped to his chest.

He reached a gloved hand down to his thigh area and pulled back up a large jug of water. With shocking swiftness, he moved his mask up a bit, allowing his lips to poke out, though he hid them from the sand with his hand and wrist, letting no part of his skin poke out as he took a deep swig of water in an almost secretive, defensive manner. He then shifted his helmet back down, fully covering his face as he screwed the cap back on.

While doing this, he took a cursory glance at his equipment. Off the right side of his large hiker pack was a lever-action carbine rifle and a pump-action shotgun, both snuggly strapped in place. On the left side was a large fireman’s axe with a black handle and deep, polished silver colored blade head.

The weapons were strapped securely in place but looked as if they could easily be removed from their storage points if needed. Though they seemed to be unneeded as currently, a large AR-patterned rifle slung down against the man’s chest, pressing into the duffle bag resting there. No doubt it was there for quick access, should he come across any form of trouble.

With the equipment check out of the way, the man nodded to himself and continued down the steep and sandy slope that laid ahead. His powerful legs kept him steady as he slowly walked downwards, his packs bumping about occasionally as he continued along his trail to seemingly nowhere in particular.

This journey continued on and on as the sun slowly began to sink below the horizon. Hours passed without notice as he continued his ceaseless journey, walking without destination nor pause. He was coated in a thin layer of sand now, which had been blowing harshly against him from the desert winds. Though now they were beginning to settle, with sand particles falling back down to join their brethren.

He soon found himself seated in the ruins of what once had been a gas station. The pumps were obviously long dried, but the durable metal building lasted a bit longer than the other wooden houses that were so often victims of collapse, especially all this time later.

While the windows were gone and the flooring was coated in more sand, he was able to get a nice secure spot underneath the register area. No one would immediately see him should they so happen to stroll by. This safety was one of the luxuries he fought the wastes for constantly. The ability to sleep without disturbance was a fantastic one, and he cherished the rest when possible.

He sat aside his numerous supply packs as he got ready to lay down his sleeping bag. As he did though, he felt himself reaching for something he hadn’t held in a while. From a holster that was slotted on the back of his belt he pulled out a very strange device with a bluish glow about it.

It had the shape of a C4 detonator, but the glowing, sci-fi nature of it was obviously proof it was something else. The man rubbed a gloved finger over the strange device, his index finger getting ever-so-close to the bright red trigger. Said finger even clenched a bit, creating a hook as it seemed as if he would pull it. Oh, the memories, to be reunited with them was a glorious thought!

No, the memories were soon cast aside, buried deeply in a far-off corner. Not out of spite, nor a desire to forget, but out of a desire to move on. Every road had its end. That road had already been walked, for the betterment of himself and others. To go back now, after all of this, all he’d been through… It’d make the long roads he’d traveled since then completely pointless, forcing him to travel them yet again. A needless retread.

He soon shoved the strange device back into its holster, away from the non-existent prying eyes of the world around him. He sighed, tapping his fingers on the remnants of the gas station’s tiled flooring. Each impact of his gloved digits created small thunking sounds in a rhythmic pattern.

He didn’t exactly want the sleep per say, but he knew his body would need it soon. It would be better to get an hour or two now rather than later. He sighed as he laid on his back for a moment. The tiled flooring was cooler than the outside sands had been, and despite how extremely uncomfortable it was, he almost liked that. No need to let himself get too comfortable, after all.

The man could see the moon shimmering through a small hole in the roof of the building. It was a beautiful sight, one that reminded him of the night that things changed for him, for both better, and worse. He sighed again, though tried to keep it quiet out of instinct, as even if nothing was out there in the barren wastes, there was no reason to be too loud.

After a while, he allowed his eyes to close for a few minutes, and let his body naturally shut down. What felt like mere moments later they snapped open. Alright, rest done, just over an hour or so of sleep, perfect! It was like the man’s body had an internal alarm, likely from years of sleeping in unsure locations around the wastes.

He grunted as he got up, rubbing his lower back as he did. In his reminiscing over the moon, he’d forgotten to lay down the damn sleeping bag. Oh well, no need for it now, he figured as his gloved hands traced over several stars and stripes which were now visible due to his backpack and bags being out of the way.

An Old-World flag adorned his duster, which crinkled this way and that as he rubbed and worked the minor kinks out of his spine. He was tough though, so they were gone quickly. Those that weren’t, he just sucked up.

With the sudden massage session out of the way, he began to repack himself, grabbing all of the intricate bags. First, he strapped the metal suitcase to his back, and then the backpack, then the other bags. It was an entire mechanical process. Definitely annoying but still, it had to be done.

He was decently quick about it, though not overly so, and soon enough he was restacked and ready to go. He checked a large, bulky, watch-like device around his wrist for a moment. His Pip-Boy’s glowing screen displayed the time. 11:27 PM, not bad, but still, he needed less time sleeping and more time wandering.

He dusted some sand off of his chest before grabbing his rifle which he’d sat nearby earlier. While the bags gave him immense bulk, he was able to still reach down and pick it up without issue before hoisting the strap over his head and around his shoulders.

“Okay,” he said in a tone below that of a whisper. A simple word of affirmation to himself, ensuring everything was exactly in place and where it needed to be. Nothing out of line… good, good, great. Perfection, as it all needed to be.

Click.

The rifle was shouldered immediately, he looked around, pointing at the only entrance to the gas station. His helmet’s crimson eyes glowed a bit, turning the faint darkness into a fully lit up scene. With the night vision he realized that there was nothing there, just a few empty shelves and cluttered trash that coated the floors.

He sighed to himself, keeping the rifle shouldered still, surely there was a noise, right? He’d heard it, it wasn’t fake!

Click.

Wait... That sound. It didn’t come from around him! He stood still as a statue, his finger resting flat against the rifle just above the trigger, in case it was a trick of some sort.

Click.

Alright, that definitely was coming from him. He took his left hand off the rifle, letting it slack down a bit, though he kept his dominant right hand on the grip as he shuffled about, patting down his own body as he tried to find something that might be making the noise.

Click.

It definitely wasn’t a grenade thankfully; he’d have known if it was by now. Though soon enough that gave him an idea. He’d suddenly remembered reminiscing over the Transportalponder earlier, and thus he reached down and grabbed the device from its holster. Maybe it was just nothing, but still, he checked regardless.

Click.

It had to be it! He was careful about it, even if it didn’t work in doors, he made extra sure to not put his finger anywhere near the red trigger. He looked down at the strange device…

And then he and all his gear promptly vanished.

A cloud of strange, rainbow-colored energy hovered where he had stood for a few moments. Soon though, a powerful gust of wind blew through the blown-out windows of the gas station, scattering the particles to the wayside, as if they had never even been there in the first place.

Apple Bloom’s eyes snapped open as she was lightly shaken awake by a larger orange mare. The little filly’s vision was blurred, but she soon blinked away the twinges of sleep that stuck to her gaze as the face of her dear big sister came into view. Soon after her ears tuned in as well.

“-ple Bloom, ya come on now, I know ya don’t wanna be late for the camping trip,” she said with a soft tone, easing the filly into alertness.

Ease wouldn’t be the exact word worth using though, as immediately the smaller pony hopped out of bed, tossing aside her covers. As she rushed over and grabbed a neatly packed bag of her belongings.

“Ah crabapples!” she shouted as she quickly got ready. “Sorry for almost bein’ late sis!”

“Think nothin’ of it, I know you and your friends got all tuckered out yesterday. We ain’t gonna be late, I just let ya sleep in a few minutes, that’s all,” assured the older, honest pony. “Besides, we’ve all got the whole day together, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Well, yeah I know,” said the smaller filly. “But with all the new work we’ve been doin’ with the Friendship School an’ Twilight bein’ the new princess an’ all that other stuff, it feels like we don’t have as much time together as we used to.”

“Now that’s a load of nonsense, Apple Bloom. We both know I’ll always make time for you,” responded Applejack.

“I know, I know,” Apple Bloom said back. “I’m not that worried but, sometimes I just feel like there’s a lot on everypony’s plate.”

“Well, that’s because there is,” agreed Applejack. “Why shucks, you and yer friends have more responsibilities than most ponies yer age do. Don’t let it get to ya know, ya toughed it out this far for everypony else’s sake,” she concluded by gently pressing her hoof into her sister’s back, rubbing her gently.

“I won’t sis,” the filly responded with a smirk. “Now we really should get a move on.”

“I’ll be right behind ya,” said her sister with a wink.

They gave Big Mac, Sugar Belle, and Granny Smith their goodbyes, and they were off. The trek from Sweet Apple Acres into Ponyville was like any other. A rush of colors and “hellos” from familiar faces. The town was bustling as always on a bright and sunny morning. One of the many peaceful mornings that had followed since the defeat of the Mean Three.

Now the monster attacks had lessened, and ponies and other creatures could go about their business without a pissed off beast or magical spell gone wrong wrecking the place. Though they had grown used to that in the past few years anyways.

The swirl of names and faces and greetings continued. Derpy, Lemon Hearts, Cherry Berry, Lyra and her wife Bon Bon, just to name a few. So many faces to see, and even with their new ruler, the town bustled on as ever, time marching on around them all.

Little Apple Bloom didn’t really think about this though, her mind was obviously set on the soon-to-be-awesome day her, the Crusaders, and their sisters were all going to have. Hopefully it wouldn’t wind up with them being stuck in a cave this time.

Soon Apple Bloom saw Sugarcube Corner come into view. Rainbow Dash was talking with Scootaloo near the front doors, likely another exciting story of a recent stunt she’d performed with the Wonderbolts to give her little sister some excitement while they waited.

As the two Apples approached further, Rarity trotted out of the delicious smelling bakery. Her illustrious saddle bags were packed with snacks and goodies no doubt. She traveled relatively lightly this time, having kept the lesson from their first sisterly outing.

Sweetie Belle trotted along beside her sister, a smile adorning her face, and no excess luggage weighing her down, for she only had two excessively heavy, flower patterned suitcases this time! Though despite the added weight, she no doubt was enjoying her time with her sister just as all the others were.

“Yo!” Dash called to the Apples, stopping her story as she noticed their approach. “You two took a bit longer than I thought you would.”

“I slept in a bit,” Apple Bloom admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Ah it’s no sweat, squirt, we’ve got plenty of time,” assured the pegasus with a chuckle.

“It’s honestly a blessing, it allowed us to pack some extra confectionaries for the road,” agreed Rarity with a nod.

“And this time she didn’t make me carry all of the camping supplies,” winked Sweetie, nudging her sister.

“Sweetie Belle, that was one time!” Rarity defended in an embarrassed huff, causing the CMC and other sisters to laugh good naturedly at their friend’s tone. Soon even Rarity herself gave in and gave a small, albeit still embarrassed chuckle.

“Alright girls, are we ready to get this show on the road?” Dash asked the group.

“You know it!” answered Scootaloo with an excited tone, the little orange filly’s wings buzzing about like that of a hummingbird.

The others nodded in agreement, and with that confirmation, they began making their way towards Winsome Falls, chattering happily all the while. The multicolored group of ponies was certainly a cheerful sight to behold. Sisterly love and unbreakable friendships continuing on, as they should.

Existence rushed back to him after the nothingness had engulfed him. The blackness of the night and the sandy nature of the post-apocalypse was gone, replaced with a wide variety of greens and a deep beautiful blue sky…

A damn shame he couldn’t admire it yet, as he felt and heard wind blasting past his body, his duster billowing yet again as gravity took hold of him. He took a deep breath of utter shock, and his limbs flailed this way and that, legs kicking at what should be ground, but was now nothing.

Only then did he realize he was about twenty or so feet into the air, and rapidly tumbling downwards, going towards a large cluster of trees. Nothing was around to slow his descent. Not that he could, his hands were filled with the rifle and the Transportalponder anyways.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he managed, before slamming face into a nearby tree branch. He saw a world of brown as the thick branch snapped apart against his helmet.

The blow rattled him, didn’t hurt much, but it did its job and threw him backwards. Had his hand not been firmly gripping his rifle, it would’ve been flung off to the side, as the strap was now flowing freely in the air. He let out a loud shout of shock before he felt his backpack impact against another branch.

Crack!

The sound of wood snapping rang out, and splinters joined his descent as he slammed through several more branches, loud cracks ringing out with each one he slammed into. The man, for his part, was keeping it together rather well given his current predicament.

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” he cried, his body being battered by gravity and branches.

He flung this way and that, to the left, to the right, he even hit a particularly sturdy branch that didn’t completely snap under his bulk, causing him to do a complete flip, rotating to the point he was now face downwards as he fell.

He was just in time to see the rocky ground, of course…

“Aw sh-” he muttered; his expletive cut off from him slamming down right into the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, so he couldn’t finish it regardless.

The duffle bag helped cushion the fall, and shockingly it didn't rip open even as his heavy ass and other bulky bags crushed it against the muddy ground. The man for his part laid there for a few seconds, his jet-lagged brain processing what the hell had just happened.

After a moment, he was right back to being fully in control, given that the ground was now beneath him. He quickly forced his right hand under himself and shoved himself up. All the while it still gripped the rifle, which was actually a good thing for him, as the barrel of the weapon acted as a makeshift cane as he forced himself up to his feet.

He pushed off the butt of the gun and was soon standing once more. He was a bit woozy in his actions, obviously disorientated as he looked around, his vision spinning. He closed his eyes and shook the cobwebs out, and then he was back in the saddle, as well as he could be, at least.

“Alright… what the fuck,” he said, it wasn’t a question, no one around to answer. Just a statement, a very apt one, actually.

He looked down at his left hand. The Transportalponder was still gripped in it, the trigger never pushed. He brought it up for a closer inspection. No visible damage, thank God. Who knows what other weird shit it could cause. He shook it, as if it were some simple lightbulb that would rattle if broken, but he of course heard nothing. A few more shakes and he gave up, putting it back into its holster with a grunt.

He looked around, examining his new surroundings. Green, green, more green. It was similar to the mountains around Jacobstown except… less snow, and healthier looking than even those relatively untouched trees had been. He could see a menagerie of multi-colored birds flying overhead, no doubt spooked from the tree he’d just smashed through.

After looking up at the healthy blue sky for a moment, he slung his rifle’s sling back over his neck and then let it dangle down as he checked his Pip-Boy, flipping the knobs and taking him to the STATS page. Nothing crippled, obviously, but it was good to check.

He flipped to the ITEMS section and nodded to himself. Every piece of equipment was still cataloged and in place. Good, good. Alright, the maps. Time to find where the hell he was…

What the fuck.

His eyes squinted, making sure he was reading this right. He even leaned his wrist closer to his face and blinked. The screen displayed just a great amber colored “ERROR!”

Fuck, maybe the fall had damaged the Pip-Boy. He knew these things were almost nuke-proof, but even still they could break, especially an older piece like this. He tapped his finger on the screen to see if that would change anything. It didn’t, obviously.

He grunted in annoyance and then hit his open palm against it with a bit more force this time. Nothing, yet again.

Maybe flipping through the dials would work? Nope!

Shit… at least everything else functioned.

He didn’t have the time to sit down and break the damned thing open, so he just accepted his losses. He considered where he was. Maybe somewhere rural and untouched by the bombs? Montana? Possibly. Maybe somewhere more east? Virginia, maybe? Ehhh, who knows.

“Ah… fuck it,” he just sighed, reaching up his right hand to rub the back of his neck as he did. He huffed, looking at the Pip-Boy's compass.

That fucker was spinning wildly too. What the hell?

“Guess that’s fried as well,” he muttered, before looking around.

Like all good wanderers, he picked a random direction and began walking, keeping his eyes peeled for anything of interest. This was just another road to walk, after all. A thick, overgrown one, but a road nonetheless...