Chapters Fallout Equestria: Monster
The eyes burned like fire.
My surroundings didn’t matter. The people around me didn’t matter. They were just blurry shapes off to the side. Pinpricks in the haze of fear I felt from being locked into place by the stare. There was no escape from the orbs.
They gleamed with malice beyond understanding. A hate deep and intense that cut through my soul and made me feel like an ant huddled beneath the shoe of a giant. A creature not even worth the flesh he’s made out of. Under their gaze all my sins were laid bare to the world and I was left exactly as I was.
Exactly what it called me.
“Nothing but a monster.”
“WAKE UP!”
A pair of hooves connected with my side with all the force an extremely pissed off mare could muster. Which is a lot. She could probably have broken rock if she wanted. I found myself flying off my mattress and onto the cold and absolutely filthy concrete.
The second I touched stone I screamed. Like a little filly. And that was before I scrambled back against the wall like my hooves were on fire. Cold sweat clung to every inch of my body, my head had an epileptic dragon inside it, and my mouth was dry as this whole goddess forsaken planet.
Another nightmare. Lovely.
“What the hell?” I asked after a few minutes spent trying to get my breathing under control and groaning from the pair of dark bruises forming under my coat. She’d just stood there watching me squirm. Enjoying my pain. The bitch hit like a round of buckshot.
“You were whining in your sleep again.” Palm's eyes were dangerous. Like a crazed animal two seconds from removing my throat. Appropriate. “I. Hate. Whining.”
“You wouldn't happen to know the meaning of irony, would you?” I hauled myself up and arbitrarily brushed some dirt off my barding. Not that it really made a difference. I hadn't been clean since…
Had I ever been clean?
“Shut up.” She flipped her mane in that way people of ‘class’ do when they want to feel superior. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.” With a harrumph that barely even covered the amount of smugness that mare put off, she retreated to her own mattress and flopped down on it, curling up on the dirty fabric.
“And some of us need to be put in a beauty coma.” I honestly didn’t have a clue what some of the others saw in Palm. She was one of the most disgusting individuals I had ever had the misfortune to associate with. She was just as likely to bite your head off as she was to suck your dick. A coat which she claimed was the color of fine beach sand had more in common with trail dust at this point. And her mane was so filthy and matted that she had to style it in dreadlocks to keep people from noting how it stuck together like glue.
Not that I could really talk in either of those departments, but it’s still disgusting.
I allowed myself one depressed sigh before taking stock.
My ‘bed’ was a mess. Just a feather mattress covered in grime and a little blood from some events I’d rather not remember. Pale concrete comprised the room Palm and I shared with the others. They were already gone. The two of us had slept in because I had a late guard shift and Palm...well, everyone agreed that she was a lot nicer when she was asleep. It used to be a bathroom, but the toilets had stopped working ages ago. We had a rule around here; if you made a mess, you had to clean it up. With your mouth.
Needless to say, the trip outside was worth it.
I stretched out like a cat and trotted to the sink that wasn't a shattered mass of porcelain on the ground with the mirror that hadn't been turned into shards to shank an idiot who cheated at cards to take care of my hygiene for the day.
I checked my reflection to make sure my coat hadn't started falling out while I was sleeping. Nope, it was all there. Same brown fur that’d I’d had since I was born. At least I think I did. Might just be the dust had been so thickly ingrained into the hair that it changed colors. My mane and tail were just as dull, but the red color was less common at least. Like that stuff you find on match heads. Phosphorous I think it was called…
With that done, I made my way out of the room, though as quietly as someone with hard hooves can be on concrete. I didn't even want to think about what would happen if I woke the bitch again. Let her sleep for another few hours. Hell, as far as I cared, she could sleep for the rest of her life.
A little push with my nose was all it took to open the door. A perk of sleeping in a bathroom, I never had to fumble with a handle. Honestly, whoever designed the damn things must have forgotten that two thirds of the population has to rely on flat hooves. It's a pain in the ass.
Off to the right towards the main room, a deep, soothing voice spoke the goings on of the wasteland through a wall of static. I smiled, glad to know the radio was still working. Sure, most of it was about how people like me should be hunted down and slaughtered. If you ignored that, the music was good. Across from me was the stallion’s bathroom. I had been considering moving my bed there. Even with the overflow, it would still beat sleeping near Palm.
I turned left and walked down the hallway to the old emergency exit that had been demoted to backdoor. We’d disconnected the alarm ages ago. And by disconnected, I mean shot until it stopped making that damn noise. I shoved it open and stepped out into the not so crisp late morning air.
The scent of dry dirt and ancient garbage reached my nose. It was a familiar smell. Hell, it was probably the smell of home for me. Depressing or not, it didn't change the fact that after all these years I had developed a resistance to stink that kept me from chopping off my own nose. Past that, the land opened up into an expanse of browns and grays that made up the entirety of the world.
This was Till, or as anyone dumb enough or desperate enough to live here call it, a pile of worthless dust. Nothing here but us, some crumbling buildings, and the only thing of even remote importance.
The road out of this dump.
You know, I might be giving Till a bad rap. After all, it wasn't so bad. We were just north enough that it was freezing cold at night while still being far enough south that we barely got any rain. And don’t get me started on all the fabulous shops and places of residence that were picked clean years ago. Or the fact that the entire western section was overrun by radhogs.
Have I mentioned that I fucking hate Till?
I squinted in the dull sunlight that managed to filter through the eternal cloud cover to shine down upon this worthless pile of crap. My hooves crunched in the dirt as I made my way to the bathroom. That being a dumpster we'd moved to block the view from the door. I put my fore hooves on the wall, and let it out.
When I was finished giving the ground the only moisture it had seen all week, I made my way back inside. Hopefully, there was still some food left so I could scrape together breakfast. Or at least something that resembled breakfast. Pickings had been rather slim this month…
Food became the furthest thing from my mind when I stepped back inside. A song kicked up down the hall. The radio blasted it out full of static, but that wouldn't stop what was to come.
“Oh fuck, not again!” Ignoring my still bruised side, I broke into a sprint to reach the main room and stop this madness before it started
“Blue moon...you saw me standing alone…”
Sprinting had never been a talent of mine.
“Without a dream in my heart…”
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to run a little faster towards the mating cats experimenting with choking themselves.
“Without a love of my own…”
I dashed into a large open room littered with shelves in various stages of togetherness and covered with the low cost junk of a bygone age.
“Blue moon...you knew just what I was there for...”
My breaths came laced with swears as I ran, desperate to get there first.
“You heard me saying a prayer for...someone I really could ca-
BANG
The gunshot startled me enough that I tripped and slid into a nearby checkout line. Old tabloids, worn from two hundred years dust gathering and the odd skimming, fell on me like a pile of bricks. Along with the stand they were sitting on. And I just happened to be lying bruised side up. This day was starting out fantastic.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU ABOUT SINGING THAT DAMN SONG?”
“Well at least we won't be completely without entertainment,” I mumbled, pulling myself out of the mess. That I’d probably have to clean up. Why the hell Cork could never learn to embrace his namesake and just shut it was a mystery and a source of despair for everyone. Maybe we’d get lucky and the boss would finally just put a bullet through his throat.
“Uhh…you told me…I didn't…uhh…” All Cork’s panicked stammering was going to do was make the boss even madder. I figured that I should get over there in case he decided to shoot a pony this time. I owed it to them to at least watch. So I limped around the shelves to take a look.
A large, grey earth pony was snarling down at a meek tan unicorn while a dark, horned mare with a pleased look stood much closer to him than necessary. Rebar, Cork, and Grease respectively. All three were were in full barding. Nothing all that strange there, no point taking it off. Mine was simple brown leather with a few metal plates over the chest and shoulders. It used to have red paint on the shoulder, but the sun and dust had a lot of criticism for that.
“JUST LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!” Rebar gestured down to the radio lying on the floor. It was the exact same failing piece of metal I’d seen hundreds of times before. Well except for a few bullet holes. Those looked new. Battle saddled to his side was a smoking shotgun. Most likely the reason I wouldn't be hearing Sweetie Bell’s singing anytime soon.
Just. Fucking. Great.
“What did you have to go and do that for?” I yelled before I could stop myself. For a moment they seemed surprised. I was right there with them to be honest. “Other people used that you know!”
“Well look who’s finally up!” the boss growled, attempting to set everything in my general direction on fire with his mind. Something that required both a horn and a brain, neither of which he had. “You finished wetting the bed?”
“Well what do you expect? He’s always been a bit of a wet match.” Grease laughed at her own joke and curled up closer to Rebar. She was pretty much a more sarcastic version of Palm and apparently a lot better in bed. Which meant she was the boss’s personal bitch and therefore higher on the food chain than the rest of us.
My name's Matchstick by the way. That's why that joke made me groan.
“Couldn’t you have just shot Cork instead? At least then we’d solve the problem permanently!” The little prick squeaked and backed up. Coward. Though me glaring at him probably didn't help. “Hell, I’ll do it right now.”
“Lay off,” he snarled, stepping between the two of us. “That pleasure is mine and I’ll take it when I please.” If I could say anything good about Rebar it's that he was an honest bastard. You always knew who he wanted to kill.
“I just really love that song…” Cork whimpered from his place on the floor.
“No one cares!” Palm stormed in, her mane a complete catastrophe and her eyes blazing with fury. I had to clench my jaw to avoid busting. Watching her try to be intimidating was like watching a radroach try to dance. Ridiculous on any scale and always good for a laugh. “It’s bad enough I have to sleep in the same room as the bed wetter…”
“Ouch. That one almost stung a little."
“But how am I supposed to get any sleep with you howling like a dog in heat whenever that ear vomit comes on?”
“Yeah! How dare you wake up Palm and inflict her on the world!” The smirk on Grease’s face was acidic enough to eat through barding. And I only got hit indirectly. Palm looked ready to bite her head off, but a growl from Rebar reminded us what this conversation was really about.
“I am not in the mood for another one of your bitch fests!” Both mares shrunk visibly. They may have hated each other to their very core, but they’d do anything to make sure Rebar didn't get mad at them. The fact that he saw some use in them was the only thing that gave them any leverage around here.
As for the rest of us…well, here was better than starving in the Wastes.
“You!” The boss pointed a hoof at Cork, causing him to squeak in a way that would either be cute or pathetic depending on who you asked. And since it was us, pathetic AND annoying. “If I hear one more NOTE out of you, I will tear your goddess damned throat out with my teeth! Clear?” He nodded so hard I was sure his head would break off. I don’t blame him. A glare from Rebar carried extra weight from the snapped bone on his flanks.
“Not like any of us is going to be doing any singing now anyways.” I walked up to the radio and nudged it with my hoof. It let out a burst of static before going silent. I wasn't a mechanic, but judging by the size of the hole, that didn't matter so much. The thing was dead as Canterlot.
“Big deal. Why would we even need a radio when I got this?” He proudly held up his right foreleg which was clothed in a brace of metal and glass.
That PipBuck…might as well have been a crown to the rest of us. The leader had the PipBuck. That’s how it’s been since we got it and that’s how it’s going to be after the wonderful day when Rebar gets a few extra breathing holes. Any of us would have gladly given him those holes. We knew it, he knew it, and he took every opportunity to dare us to try and take it.
Especially me. Birthrights were great for taunting.
But we wouldn't. He’d personally ripped the leg off of our last boss, a unicorn named Cold Clock, to get himself the position. And he always slept with one eye open. Zipper learned that the hard way when she took a dagger to his bed one night. I’d always hated her a bit less than the other two. She was the least bitchy of the three little whores. Even let me have a turn once.
“So what are the rest of us supposed to do then? Follow you around and hope you leave your radio on?”
“Fuck if I know. Figure it out yourselves. I got stuff to do.” That ‘stuff’ became apparent when he motioned for the two mares to follow him. Palm even seemed happier since she wouldn't have to sleep with the rest of us anymore. Grease looked down by contrast. As long as they were mad at eachother, I couldn't care less. “Oh, and Match? Be sure to clean up that mess.” The three of them walked behind a small counter in the back wall and towards the door that led to the storage room. It was more of a bedroom those days. They went inside without a word and left me alone with the shaking Cork.
“Umm…I…” I shut him up with a look. One of the ones that comes with an implied gun. If I had a real one he would have pissed himself. “I’ll just…yeah…” The spineless stallion slinked out of the room in the most spineless and pathetic manner possible by pony. How no one had killed him yet…
“As if there wasn’t enough shit to deal with this morning.” I scooped the radio up in one hoof and hobbled to the other end of the market we’d converted into our base of operations, continuing with a years long effort of grinding my teeth into nubs. Converted in this context means 'braced the door and stuck some metal on the walls in case people shot it'. Though considering the size and it's inclusion of a coffee shop, a bakery, and a butcher, it was far better off as a fort than some of the other places we’d used. Like that old sewer we used once. So many assholes lost to cholera...
A short walk to said coffee shop put me back on track to getting breakfast. I hopped the counter, being mindful of the old shattered glass, and left the busted radio on the island. A couple of the cupboards used to hold sweets and fresh baked breads but were now filled with a disappointingly low amount of dry goods. I did however find a half-eaten box of Sugar Bombs tucked behind a stack of cram. How it could be half-finished when the cereal was one of the few things left with a sweet taste was anyone's guess.
Unless it was poisoned, but my gang mates weren't that subtle. They’d just shoot me.
I pulled the box from its hiding place and tipped it back; letting the tiny balls of nearly two hundred year old wheat and sugar fall into my mouth. ‘Wheat’ being used in the broadest sense. They’d have had to do something to it to make sure it had nearly the same taste after so long. At least…I heard they tasted the same from this ghoul I used to know, but I really wouldn’t trust a tongue that started rotting over a hundred and ninety years before.
“You found it huh? X is gonna be pissed.” In walked a unicorn whose mane was pure white and had a coat just a shade closer to blue. Brittle. One of only two ponies in our gang that…liked might be too strong of a word. Tolerated? Was apathetic towards? I didn't want to shoot in the face on a regular basis?
I liked him better than the boss. That’s the most accurate description of my feelings towards him I can come up with.
“X should find a better hiding place.” Another mouthful disappeared down my throat. I could already see the look on her face when she found out I swiped her cereal. It was the Bombs that much sweeter. “So, we may need to call a mechanic.” I motioned towards the radio, still splintered from buckshot.
“Hmm…” The busted electronic was picked up in an icy blue glow and held before his face. Despite his name, Brittle was a genius at repair. So much so that his mark was a light bulb. A broken one. With blood coating the sharp edges. “Alright, I see what the problem is. And I’m gonna take this slow so you can understand.” He gave me a look that was so serious it could make a charging Hellhound sit on command. “This thing’s broke as hell.” He idly chucked it over his shoulder.
“I already knew that, jackass.” I sat down and kept eating the cereal, enjoying the feeling of being pissed. It was better than being bored. “Chances of us finding a new one?”
“Slim to none.” He pulled a can of cram out with magic and flopped down next to me. We ate in silence for a while before he spoke again. “So, I think I heard someone skulking around this morning.”
“Oh?” We got unwanted guests from time to time. Idiots who heard Pon-3 talking on the radio and decided they wanted to help the world. I would say they were now helping the grass grow, but nothing grows in Till anymore. Also, I set their bodies on fire. Delicious when blackened and your stomach had been empty for a week.
I like fire. The charred skull on my ass said as much.
“Yeah. And from the sound of it…” He leaned in close, like he had some big secret. I copied him, curiosity overcoming apathy for once. “It’s a little filly who had the piss scared out of him.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. I decided they'd look good on fire.
“Fuck you.” I grabbed my cereal and moved to the opposite corner. I was turning into a laughing stock and there wasn't much I could do about it.
“Sounds like they’re getting worse, huh?” he asked without missing a beat. “I mean, seems like every other day now you get replaced by a foal who just stepped on his first radroach.”
“Hey, it's not like I'm controling this!” Showing weakness was bad for your health and since I woke up screaming three times a week…I was just really lucky that Cork was so meek.
Course that also meant that the second Rebar finally killed him I would become the weakest link…
“Can’t seem to control your bladder either.” He muttered it, but we both knew I heard it. In a second I’d turned around and planted both my back hooves into his muzzle. He fell back against the wall, staring at me with a dazed look on his face. True to his name, Brittle couldn't take a hit.
“The fuck-”
“Don’t,” I warned, trying to access the heat vision I just knew was buried inside me. He wisely held any further comments and picked himself up. “I don’t want to hear it.” He sat right back down and kept looking. I ignored him and finished my cereal. It wasn't going to help anything if we started a shouting match. There’d already been a catastrophe today and another one would push us that much closer to inevitably killing each other.
“They're really starting to get to you aren't they?” he said after a while. “You've been angry a lot lately.” He stood and moved a few steps closer. I decided to let him. “Actually, I can’t really remember a time these past couple months where you weren't completely pissed.”
“There’s a lot to be angry at.” I looked at the now empty box of cereal in my hooves. A smiling colt looked at me while a mushroom cloud went off in the background. I snarled and bashed the pony’s face in, wishing it was Palm, or Grease, or Cork, or Rebar. Hell, I’d settle for X or Brittle at the moment. “What the fuck am I doing here?”
“Right now, stomping on a picture.” You know, I suppose I should be glad I can’t kill people with my eyes. I’d have ended up the last living pony on the planet at this rate. “Uhh…I guess you’re here for the same reasons I am…nowhere else to go…only way to survive…”
“Yeah I know and it pisses me off!” I advance on him, and I must have looked ready to kill with the way he backed against the wall. “You know how long I've been doing this shit? Twenty-seven years! That's my whole fucking life!” I had been through weeks of nightmares and watching that fuck Rebar live large while I was stuck sleeping in a disgusted bathroom on a mattress that had the stains of at least three murders and ten rapes on it. “Hell, I’m worse off than when I started! Gang of seven ponies…”
“Eight if you count Skinny.”
“Oh, who cares about that coward?” He could rot atop that hill of his! Hell, he already was. “Gang of seven ponies, not even in charge of it, a week’s worth of food left, nightmares I can’t remember…by Celestia, could I sound anymore pathetic!” I turned away from him. I wasn't really talking to Brittle anyway. Just screaming for the sake of screaming. “Do you know where I’ll be in five years? Either dead or in the exact same place I am now! Only possible improvement I see happening is a change in leadership and even that will end up shit!” I looked at the radio, still lying in near pieces on the counter. “And now, because our ‘glorious leader’ can’t help but shoot off at every opportunity, I can't even hear people sing about how much better things used to be!”
I picked it up and chucked it against the wall. A few chips of metal flew off, but it otherwise remained in one piece. That was the last straw. I didn't want mild damage, I wanted smashed into a thousand pieces! With a snarl I began to stomp, trying to get the results I craved. I don't know whether it was seconds or minutes, but when I was done I had a pile of metal and plastic chips. Brittle watched the whole thing wide eyed.
“Wow…okay…is it really that bad?” I turned to look at him. Not angry or anything, I'd burned a good chunk out of me. Enough to go back to apathy or depression.
“You have any idea what gang some of us used to run under? Trust me, it was paradise compared to this.” I let myself flop to the ground, lost in memories of how things were.
“Well, I heard Charcoal ran things alright…”
Charcoal, self-proclaimed Ash Queen of the Wastes. Lead one of the most powerful gangs in the area. Had an entire army at her beck and call. Under her, we’d held several towns hostage and had a princesses's ransom of tithes coming our way. It was like running the entire world.
Then she had the misfortune to catch a bad case of bullet to the head which left her title and PipBuck open to her lieutenants. Said ass hats then proceeded to start a war that reduced what used to be one of the most powerful forces in western Equestria to small, severed groups, scratching the bottom of the barrel to stay alive.
What can I say? Mom never liked things easy.
“Yeah, they were. A whole lot better than they are now.” I sat back down, still bitter about the whole situation. I didn't really have any right to be. I hadn't exactly been living large before. Gang smelled of shit no matter how high up the dung pile you were, but I’d lived better than bowing to some jackass wall of meat who spent more time fucking skanks than working towards survival.
“Maybe I should have joined up during her time.” He laughed a little and got this look on his face like he was being nostalgic. The poser. “I mean, the Ashers owned this whole area right?”
“For the most part, yeah. Anyone who said otherwise usually ended up in pieces.”
“Man. I can see why you're pissed. I'd do anything to get that back.”
"Yeah..." Go back to the times before. When I was only slightly more safe from all the targets on my back. When there was enough to eat, but I actually had to worry about poison. When I was actually expected to do more than shoot what I was told.
Being the boss's brat was a lot like being one of her lieutenants. Except you lacked the training, strength, charm, whit, emotional stability, or anything required to be one. When she told them to do something they did it as fast as they possibly could and if they fucked up they felt it. The same was with me. Even if my jobs were less important, they were no less difficult if only because I had no resources to rely on that I couldn't scrape together myself.
And as far as loving relationships went…a small scar under my left eye gave a pretty clear indication of how things were.
And that’s just the shit with Charcoal. I could go on for hours about the ass hats who made up my peers, the incompetent bastards who gave me orders, or the fact that with all the ponies we got, from all walks of life, not ONE was a decent cook! And the assassination attempts, I mean COME ON! How could they not realize that people only got as high as they did through THOSE EXACT METHODS! Of course they'd be watching out for them!
And THAT was the glory days for me.
As you can imagine, my thoughts on the future were pretty bleak.
If someone asked me if I’d trade the past and the present, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. But if someone asked me what I wanted the future to be like, the only answer that would come to mind was 'nothing worse'.
If I could make the future like the past, would I? Constantly worrying about the people around me, wondering when they’ll decide to slit my throat. Having to go out and get shot at every couple of days just to show off my strength. Always having to worry about food, water, or ammunition. Could I really be happy with that?
And if not that, then what else would there be? I could try to start my own gang. I knew all the basics of leading one. And there were always ponies with no place to go who would join up. But…I wasn't exactly the most physically intimidating pony. It’d be hard to keep a group of vicious psychopaths in line. Every single one of them would be looking for a chance to take my spot. I’d be dead within a week.
Be like Skinny? Go out and find some abandoned shack to squat in? Make a deal with a local gang for protection so I could live out my days picking through old buildings? It sounded…boring…and incredibly difficult.
I could go slaver…if I could find a group that would take anyone…which wasn't a lot. They’d see me as likely to kill the slaves before they could sell them. Dead merchandise didn't turn a profit. They’d probably shoot me on principle.
As far as I could see, this was the most I could expect out of life. Attacking anyone who came through my town to grab whatever they had so I could prolong my life. Do this day in, day out until someone got off a lucky shot that left me drying up in the dust.
There wasn't really any point in thinking about it. Nothing I could do to change it so why bother going over the facts? It was all just a straight shot to a shallow-
“MATCH!”
I jumped, ears ringing from close proximity screaming. Brittle had apparently gotten tired of sitting in silence.
“You alright?” He actually sounded concerned. I was almost touched. “You dropped off the face of the earth for a bit there.”
“I did?” I shook my head, clearing a small bit of the fog that had taken over my brain. “How long?”
“A couple minutes. Looked like your dog was being cooked in front of you.” It's a very specific look. One the both of us had seen multiple times. “Pining for days gone by?"
“You could say that.” No point bringing it up. Talking about it with someone else would just make the both of us fall into depression. “Sweet Celestia do I need a drink...or a smoke."
“Like that’s going to happen. You know Rebar always takes the good stuff.” There was the slightest hint of a growl in his tone. Alcohol was a precious resource out here and four out of seven of us were going on a three month dry spell.
“Yeah. Besides, we haven’t had any prey for over a month…”
“GREEN FLAG!” A mare with a coat to match the flag and a black mane burst through the front door at full gallop. She tore past the two of us without a hint of acknowledgement and sprinted right to the center of the market, atop a short platform one of the smarter bosses had built for anouncements. “Skinny tossed up a green flag on the cliff! There’s a caravan coming!”
Ah Skinny, our skinless spotter. We had a deal with him. He warned us of incoming travelers, we didn't tear him limb from limb and use his skull for target practice. Also, he got a quarter of the take to make sure he didn't die (or finish dying, I’m not sure which it is) up in that shack of his. He had three flags he put up. Green for an easy target, yellow for a challenge, and red which meant GET IN YOUR HOLES AND HIDE! DEATH IS COMING!
We’d only seen the last one once for a caravan of Steel Rangers that rolled through here once. What they were doing in Till was something I didn't know or care about.
“You serious?” Brittle called out as we trotted up to the mare. It wasn't hard to hear the excitement in his voice.
“Of course I’m serious! You think I’d joke about something like this?” The gleam in X’s eye was manic. But also a little childish. I think it was one of the reasons she was the other member of our little company that didn't drive me up a wall constantly.
And yes, she has a name other than X. But she also has a large X shaped scar across her face and on both flanks so that’s what we call her. Still didn't know whether they were the product of torture, self-inflicted, or just a crazy accident.
“About fucking time!” I all but cheered. Just what I needed to get me out of this slump. The chance to shoot something. Hell, maybe Rebar would die in the fighting!
“I’ll go get the boss! Saddle up boys, we gotta move!” She back flipped off the platform and ran over to where Rebar had his quarters. Brittle and I turned towards the butcher that we’d converted into an armory of sorts. I would say it was ironic that the contents of that room were still being used to turn things into meat, but I doubt the pony that set things up that way even knew the word irony existed.
“Alright, if X was on morning patrol than she probably saw it from the road. If that’s the case, we should have three hours to set up before they get here,” Brittle continued muttering to himself. I knew all of this already of course. We’d been in the same spot for over a year. More than enough time to learn the times.
Brittle barged through the side door into the shop while I jumped up and slid across the counter. Why? Cause it was awesome! That’s why! I looked up to see…ten guns, four battle saddles and a couple boxes of explosives.
We weren’t that big a gang after all.
I took the saddle on the far right and started slipping it on, working the straps with efficiency that only came from an entire lifetime of using firearms. If I had a horn like Brittle’s I could have just loaded an assault rifle and been done in two seconds, but you got to work with what you’re given. When I finished getting the thing on (I hope whoever designed a strap based device to be worked by earth ponies died in a balefire blast) I pulled an old hunting rifle off the wall and slipped it in. It's condition was alright at best 'find duct tape' at worst, but I was a decent enough shot with it. I wasn't a sniper or anything, but I could blast the head off a radroach at an acceptable range. I grabbed enough ammo to shoot fifty and put it in my saddle’s auto loader.
I also took some grenades, a couple potions, and a few caps. Don’t know why, but no matter what gang they originated from, people like us always seemed to go into battle with money on them. Like it was some kind of reward for whoever was good enough to kill them.
Was it stupid? Yes, but that didn't stop up from doing it.
Cork showed up at one point and started loading his pack with mines and grenades. You know, I never really noticed before, but explosives experts always seemed a little too…twitchy for my liking. Must be nerve racking working that close to something that would turn you into a pile of red mush.
“So you shits had enough sense to saddle up without me telling you, huh? Good.” Rebar walked up, flanked by his whores. My teeth clamped down on the firing bit, not enough to shoot, but enough to let me know how much my subconscious wanted to blow the fucker’s brains out. His shotgun, the most maintained thing in this shithole, was already saddled up. He almost never took it off. X was hanging in the background, her barely working sniper still slung across her back from patrol. She walked over to join me and the other two. “The four of you get out there and start prepping the ambush while we get ready. And don’t fuck it up! We’ve gone long enough without a decent hit!”
I wanted to talk back, deny his authority in some way, but the prospect of food, guns, and ‘company’ rendered me incapable of doing anything but nodding and running towards the door.
This was what I lived for after all. And it's what I'd be doing till the day I died.
Probably.
New game:
Name: Matchstick
Species: Earth Pony
Sex: Male
Coloration: Brown coat, red mane/tail
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.:
Strength: 4
Perception: 8
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 2
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 6
Luck: 3
Fallout Equestria: Monster
The caravan was coming in from the south. A real bad move considering the terrain. The road twisted and turned around these huge mounds of rock. The whole place all but screamed ambush. Course that was a double edged sword. We’d have a lot of options about where to attack, but they’d be looking out for it. Unless they were completely incompetent which didn’t happen near enough as I liked.
“Alright, how do you guys want to do this?” Brittle asked as we ran.“What about that spot where we took those slavers?” Not a fight I wanted to repeat. Those assholes would fight tooth and nail to protect their investments. Killed three of us before we managed to put them down. Lot of food in those wagons though.“Not a bad idea. There’s a decent sniping post up in the rocks.” I didn’t have to look to know she was grinning. I once saw X take off a parasprite’s wing from five hundred yards. It was probably luck (no matter how much she said otherwise), but still.“Then it’s settled. Cork, how we doing on mines?”“Umm…” The sound of explosives clinking together a few feet away from me was…unsettling to say the least. You’d think it’d be possible for him to remember without checking. “I brought…three frag and a bottle cap.” Most would question the logic in using currency as shrapnel. Most forget that we never pay.“Hope they like exact change.” Three pairs of eyes rolled as one. If Brittle saw it he didn’t care.The rest of the trip passed in complete silence. It wasn’t longer than fifteen minutes. Most of the good spots were close to the base. It’s why we settled in Till to begin with. Well that and everyone unanimously agreeing that traveling sucked.The side was a narrow strip of road that ran through a small canyon. Hills sloped up to either side with rocks strewn the whole way to the top. The right side was a little bit higher than the left. X’s nest was there. One little patch of flat ground with two large boulders feeling each other up in front. Over a hundred places to hide as long as you weren’t on the one stretch of flat ground.It was almost too perfect to use.The boss and his whores showed up a few minutes later. I didn’t really mind waiting for them. It gave the rest of us a few minutes to catch our breath and bask in the beautiful silence that lasted five seconds after he showed up.“You picked here?” He eyed it like he was looking for a bone to break. If the planet had a face he’d punch it just because he could. “Yeah, it’ll work. X, get high. Me and the girls will cover you from below. You three shitheads take the other side after Cork mines the road.” Most of that had already been decided by common sense, but we didn’t need to say that. It’d make things easier on everyone if we just went along with it.“And if they see the mines?” Brittle asked, holding his hoof up while he did so. Honestly, did he think we were foals in school? That is what foals did in school right?“Then shoot them shithead. Plan B is always shoot them.” Behold, our wise and glorious leader. “Well? What are you all standing around for? DO IT!” No one needed to be told twice (the second time always came with a hoof to the head). I may bitch and complain during downtime, but when there was prey coming we became a unified force with one goal in mind.To transfer whatever’s in their bags to ours. In as violent of a manner as possible.Cork went about setting up the mines, X ran up to her nest, while Brittle and I went to look for a good place to settle down. We’d need it to be comfortable enough to sit in for a few hours while still providing a good view of the targets. We found a passable spot about half way up behind some tooth shaped stones. Just enough space to hide us and ground that wouldn’t make us bleed. I’d slept in worse.The boss and his whores took their positions. Cork soon finished placing the mines and came up to join us. X was out of sight at this point, but she let her sniper sight catch the light to show she was ready. A few miles farther south, the rocky terrain rose up into a cliff where a small shack could be seen. The green flag had been taken down the second we’d gotten into position. It could only be seen from our side, but they really didn’t need any more warning signs. And just beneath that, almost too far to see, a bunch of black specks meandered their way up the road.The traps were set, we were all in place, and the target was coming up on our position. Nothing to do now but engage in the pastime that made up three-quarters of all conflict.Waiting.Lots of ponies seem to think that we’re constantly looking for people to kill or rape or steal from, but that’s not the case. More often than not, we have to wait for them to come to us. A gang in a good spot may see, at the most, three or four groups a week. Way out in the boonies like us, we were lucky to get one every two. Most days we just lounge about waiting for something to happen. Some of these idiots join up looking for an exciting life only to find that it’s even more boring than their old one. And twenty times as deadly.Dumb bastards barely last a week.When you’re in our line of work you learn to be patient. Insane? Yes. Bloodthirsty? You bet. Psychotic to the highest degree imaginable? Fuck the hell yes. But also patient. Very, very, VERY patient.Or you got dead. Very, very, VERY dead.It was a testament to that patience that we spent two and a half hours in total silence. And I do mean total silence. What was there to talk about? We all knew how this went. We’d done it dozens of times before. Our strategy (or lack of it) was already laid out. There was nothing to do but wait and imagine the goodies we’d take off their bodies.I personally was hoping for a new rifle. The one I had was a piece of shit. Kept leaning to the left. Made me regret that I never bothered to learn more than the basics of how to fix this stuff. Maintenance I could keep up with, but that didn’t do shit if it actually broke. Not that I really had the parts to fix it either way.Oh, and some meat would be nice. Though that was kind of a given since they usually had brahmin. Annoying creatures. Especially if both heads had a brain. Never shut up. Though I’ll admit it was hilarious to cut one off and watch the other freak out.A hat wouldn’t go amiss. Something to keep the sun out of my eyes. Well, not the sun. The clouds? The light reflecting off the clouds? Going through the clouds? I never was very clear on the specifics.Maybe just get some better barding in general. Or some more paint to repair the patches I’d lost. Terrible for stealth, but I looked great in red.“Here they come,” Brittle said from beside me, his voice low, but saturated with anticipation. Sure enough, the sounds of our prey came drifting up the road without a care in the world. Creaking carts, the stomp of hooves, think I heard some kids laughing, usual stuff.Another couple of minutes and they came into view. I cracked a smile when I saw three wooden carts rolling up, all pulled by the delicious two headed monstrosities that used to be cows. Oh yes, we would eat like kings tonight.And by the look of things, we’d pay for it. Every single adult was armed and had their eyes on the rocks. A quick count showed nine guns among them and two unarmed foals. They outnumbered us, but if we were lucky, the mines would take out a few and scatter the rest.Closer and closer they crept. The pound of my heartbeat rang in my ears as adrenalin kicked in. I knew what was going to happen. Bullets would fly, blood would spill, lives would be ended this day in a dance that had been done since the dawn of time. Predator and prey. Hunter and hunted. Killer and killed. It would all start in just a few seconds…“Mines!”“Well shit,” Brittle cursed beside me. I sighed and looked over to my partners in slaughter.“Plan B?”“Plan B,” Cork stated, already pulling the pin on a grenade. He sent it sailing over the rock and assumedly neatly among the caravan if the shout was any indication.“GRENADE!”The explosion was as close to a warhorn as we’d get. I stood, pulling away from the rocks so I could get a clear shot. The first thing to cross my sights was a mare. Dull orange, really pretty. My eyes locked on hers for a brief moment before they widened and she let out a scream that had become our familiar over the years.“RAIDERS!”My rifle cracked three times. The first shot went wide, throwing up a cloud of dust at her hooves. The second grazed her left side, throwing sparks where it met the metal on her barding. The third buried itself above her right eye. There was a flash of crimson and a thunk before she fell, dead before she hit the ground.There wasn’t time for pride over what, if I do say so myself, was a fantastic shot. I was already moving in the four seconds it took the stallion next to her to open fire with an assault rifle. Bullets pinged off stone all around me. I felt a round graze the spot above my tail before I slid into cover. My barding took the worst of it, but the sting was noticeable.I heard a loud BANG and a cut off scream. X would be putting another notch in her wall back home. The loud roar of Rebar’s shotgun and the solid cracks of the whore’s rifles accompanied the sustained noise of Brittle’s machine gun and the tiny pops of the pistol Cork was never without. It was odd how I could pick out all these individual sounds in between the return fire from the caravan and the screams of the kids as the world exploded around them.I suppose you could call this what raiders lived for. The noise, the excitement, the constant threat of death, the rush of power and pure, undiluted adrenalin whenever you nail a shot. More addicting than any drug.Brittle slid into place a few feet away from me, laughing like a pony gone mad. He stood and let out a war cry that had more in common with a ten year old shooting targets with his dad’s pellet gun than a bloodthirsty berserker. Didn’t quite fit to be honest. Might have been the noises his targets were making. He stood there laughing until a bullet whizzed past his neck leaving a thin line. With a curse he sat back down. I couldn’t resist a laugh.“I’d tell you to watch your head, but there doesn’t seem to be anything important in there anyway!” I called to him. I spied my next target which came in the form of a purple unicorn hiding behind a cart with a half exploded brahmin tied to the front. Guess I know where Cork’s grenade went. I let off a few shots. None of them hit, but they did keep him pinned long enough for X to lodge a round in his gut.I slipped back behind cover and gave the piece of metal behind my leg a kick, letting the battle saddle take care of reloading. From the look of things, they’d already lost about half their shooters while we hadn’t taken a single casualty. Things were going-Heat and light, more than could be caused by one grenade went off somewhere to the other side of Brittle. He let off a shriek from an injury I couldn’t see. A flaming piece of hoof landed a couple feet in front of me. I don’t know exactly what happened, but if I had to guess, an incredibly lucky shot caught one of Cork’s grenades right when he was going to throw it. The explosion must have set off the rest in his bag.Which officially made me the weakest link. Best day ever.“SWEET SON OF A STAR-KISSED WHORE!” Brittle screamed in agony beside me. I rolled my eyes and ran to him, feeling a couple near misses from below. The big baby had taken a sliver of shrapnel in one of his legs. I grabbed it with my teeth and ripped it out without ceremony. “BY THE SUGGARY TITS OF LUNA, THAT FUCKING HURTS!”“Oh shut up and drink this,” I passed him a potion without further comment, ducking a couple more bullets. One mare left, but she was making us work for it. The others could take care of her while I saw to Brittle. Wasn’t exactly a licensed doctor, but you learned this stuff if you did it enough.There was a loud scream and I took a quick look over the rock. Rebar had somehow snuck up to the edge of one cart and blasted the mare when she wasn’t looking. The bright green pony now had a large red hole where her chest used to be. The big fucker could be real stealthy when he wanted to.Nine kills to one casualty. And said casualty was a pussy that we all hated. Not too bad I’d say.“Clear!” X called out from her snipers nest. Grease let out a cruel laugh and ran down to join Rebar as did Palm, but with more limping. It was hard to keep a smile off my face so I didn’t. Could always just say I was happy at how things had turned out. I made my way down, leaving Brittle to wait for the potion to finish working.“What was that big ass explosion?” asked Rebar as I reached the road. Right before he stepped on some bleeding stallion’s neck.“Cork finally blew himself up. Piece of shrapnel caught Brittle, but he’ll be fine as soon as he stops crying about it.” I shrugged. A dull report all things considered.“Cork’s dead?” A wide grin appeared on the boss’s face. “So we won’t have to listen to the vocal shit he calls singing anymore?”“No. And on the same day you shot the radio. Great timing genius.” I trotted over to one of the carts, stepping over the corpse of one of the kids. Little brat had taken a round through the eye in the confusion. Bad parenting to bring a child out into the Wasteland. Bullets don’t account for age.“You know, I’m so happy to hear he’s dead that I’m going to ignore that comment.” He let out a blood thirsty laugh, right at the same moment Palm shot one of the wounded caravaners. He had good timing with some things, just not when to shoot the fucking radio.“Whatever.” I grabbed onto the edge of the cart, peering at the goods inside. Nothing particularly caught my eye, but you never got the good stuff on the first sweep. If you want to find anything worthwhile, you have to dig down through all the shit and…A hoof grabbed onto one of my hind legs. A mare was staring up at me with bright green eyes. It was the one Rebar had shot. Blood and buckshot spilled out of her chest and into the dirt. She stared at me and uttered one word.“Please…”“Ugh. Get off!” I kicked her until she let go. Then I kicked her wound. She didn’t make a sound, just kind of stared straight ahead, not even flinching at the impacts. I kept at it till she died, lying face down in a pool of her own blood.“Dumb bitch.” I turned away from her and back to the cart-BANGMy right ear exploded into molten pain. I fell to the ground as all around me, my gang let out cries of alarm and swarmed the cart. X walked up to me and offered a potion. I drank it as they hauled out some little brown colt with a green mane. He screamed as Brittle picked him up with magic and set him in front of the cart.“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Rebar snarled down at the brat whose eyes were the size of apples. X floated out a pistol, a little I-8 Parasprite, the weapon he’d used to blow off my ear. The potion was already fixing it, but it still hurt like all hell. “Little colts aren’t supposed to play with guns.”“Naughty, naughty,” Grease cooed as she dragged her tail across his back, circling like a shark. He followed her with his gaze, slowly sinking down to hide in his hooves. I almost felt bad for the little guy. Couldn’t be any older than eight and surrounded by raiders who’d just murdered his friends and family. Can’t imagine something like that.Course, he also shot me so sympathy only goes so far.“Awww, he’s so cute!” X said, letting out a giggle that was far too cute for the scene. “Can we keep him? Huh, can we?”“No fucking way!” Palm bitched. No one was surprised. “Little pisser like that would just stink up the place. Shoot him so we can find some food.”“But shooting him would be such a waste.” Grease leaned down and gave the kid a look that I’m sure scared him far beyond his ability to understand. “At least let me have some fun with him first.”“Shouldn’t we let Matchstick decide? I mean, the little bastard did shoot him and all,” Brittle said, tossing me a smile.“What the hell, I’m in a good mood right now.” Rebar grinned like a shark. It was worthy of the kid’s nightmares, or would be if he lived long enough to have them. “What do you say, Match? How should we treat our esteemed guest?”“Well you know what they say.” I kicked the switch for my auto loader. Wanted a full clip for this. “Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth,” I leaned down and looked straight into his big green eyes, “bullet for a bullet.”“Now we're talking.” The colt was once more shrouded in a blue glow as Brittle picked him up. I’ll give him props though, he still refused to make a sound. He was put up against the cart and held in place, this time physically. Brittle always loved to be close to the action.“So, any last words?” I asked, rolling my shoulder to work the kinks out. My thoughts were already on how good those brahmin were going to taste as I looked into his eyes.We held gazes for a moment. Mine cruel with a smirk attached, gleefully picturing him with a whole lot less head. His huge and scared and just a bit dewy around the edges. It was a look I’d seen hundreds of times before.But something was different.In an instant all the fear grew hot. “I hate you…I hate you! I HATE YOU! YOU’RE ALL A BUNCH OF FUCKING MONSTERS!”It was just a childish insult. It didn’t matter at all. I’d been called worse. Far worse in fact. With a lot more swearing attached. It didn’t mean a thing. And it would mean even less when I pulled the trigger.So why hadn’t I?“Well, well, well, look who grew a spine.” I could hear the smile on Rebar’s face. In fact I knew they were all smiling. Still riding the post battle high and giddy at the spectacle of an execution. Even if it was just a kid.Couldn’t be more than eight… “Well? What are you waiting for?” Palm was getting bored fast. “Shoot him already.”I should have shot him by now. In fact I should have shot before he’d opened his mouth. It wasn’t like I could miss, he couldn’t be more than ten feet in front of me. There shouldn’t have been a problem. “Match?” X poked me in the shoulder. “We’re all kind of waiting here.”Yeah they were. Standing around a battle field waiting for me to shoot a foal who just watched everyone he’d ever known get slaughtered around him.Fucking monsters…“Did he get hit or something during the fight?”Cork was dead. They didn’t even care. I didn’t even care. The poor bastard was dead and no one gave a damn. We were actually happy he was gone. There wasn’t a single person on this planet that cared about him being dead.Fucking monsters…“I don’t think so. Unless a shot to the ear can cause brain damage.”That was going to be me in the future. A corpse lying in pieces on a battlefield with no one caring enough to even look twice at it. Eventually I’d turn to bleached bones and somebody would pass by them. They’d look for a moment then turn away, disinterested. Disinterested by death.Fucking monsters…“Should we give him another potion?”These people, these creatures...they’d happily pull the trigger themselves. Things like them were the closest I’d come to having friends. Every single one of them, all the ones I’ve met through my whole life would have gladly killed me if it offered even the slightest benefit.Fucking monsters…couldn’t count on any of them.“I say we just hit him over the head.”The only thing I could count on was my nightmares.“Wouldn’t that just make the problem worse?”Cause that’s what I did. I killed people and had nightmares.“Who cares? We’d still get to hit him.”And that’s what I’d keep doing. “Enough of this bullshit! Are you going to shoot him or not?”Till the day I died…“…No”There was a sharp crack and a flash of light. The bullet pierced flesh and cloth easily, busting through a weak spot in the barding. The pumping of his heart forced out a little spurt of blood. It splattered on the ground. The sound was audible. No one was speaking.“What…the fuck...” Brittle looked at me. Shock and disbelief danced through his eyes, each so big it would have been comical under different circumstances. Then he fell over. Then he died.No one made a sound. They all stood there and stared with dropped jaws. I’m pretty sure mine had dropped the farthest though. The moments before and after pulling the trigger seemed years apart. As if two completely different people had experienced them.But that didn’t matter. As far as those behind me were concerned I was one person. And that person had just opened fire on one of their own.I only regained myself a couple seconds before the rest did, but it was enough. I rushed forward and grabbed the colt. He didn’t resist. Probably too stunned to do much of anything. I tugged him along and dived behind the cart just as a round of buckshot added more holes to a now useless piece of transportation.That’s when the screaming started. Some were in denial, others in rage, a couple seemed almost happy, but most were of confusion. I couldn’t make out any of the words. The blood ringing in my ears wouldn’t allow it. I noticed the healing potion had finished working. It seemed odd that I’d be aware of it then.I looked at the kid. He looked back at me. We sat there for a moment as bullets splintered the wood in front of us.“Keep your head down and stay out of sight and maybe we’ll walk out of this with our heads.”“…Okay.”Another round of buckshot slammed into the cart close enough to make me flinch.“YOU’RE DEAD, YOU UNDERSTAND!” Rebar screamed at me, more furious than I’d ever heard him. “I’M GONNA SPLIT YOUR STOMACH OPEN AND FORCE FEED YOU WHAT’S INSIDE YOU PIECE OF GHOUL SHIT!”Don’t confuse his anger for grief over Brittle. The unicorn was no poor shot with an assault rifle and good with electronics. I’d just taken a valuable asset from him and he wanted to pay me back in full. Nothing more, nothing less.I reloaded my rifle and took a look around the cart. Palm had taken up shop behind the other wagon, ready to take pot shots at the first sign of me. Grease was backing towards the rocks. X was milling around the other side, looking unsure of what was going on. And Rebar…Rebar was charging straight at me with a roar a bull would be envious of.I dove to the right, just in time to avoid the rushing wall of meat. With quickness that defied his size, he pivoted and fired. Pellets peppered the ground to the left of me. If he had shot just a fourth of a second later I would have been cut in half. I let off a round of my own right into his shoulder. He screamed and I made a break for the rocks.I slid into cover just before three rounds took chips off the stone’s surface. The whores weren’t saving their ammo. The two of them were putting on too much pressure for me to move. There weren’t any sniper rounds though. X hadn’t fired off a shot.I went flat as Rebar’s shotgun started roaring wildly, much like the stallion himself. For every true curse he shouted at me, there was another two made up on the spot. He was far more creative than I’d ever given him credit for.I couldn’t stay here. Even with the rocks protecting me, it was only a matter of time before one of them got a lucky shot or came right up to finish the job themselves. And if X decided I wasn’t worth Rebar’s wrath, she could pick me off with ease at any time. No chance of sneaking away either. Not with them already focused on me.Well, if you couldn’t go quiet go loud.With a deep breath I peaked up over the stone. I only had a few seconds, but it was enough. Palm was still by the cart. Didn’t look too far away…I ducked back when another bullet dinged off the rock. Less than an inch from my head to. If it had been just a little bit higher that would have been it.“What’s the matter Palm? You used to brag about how you were such an amazing shot!” I started fumbling around in my bag, feeling for a smooth piece of metal.“Aint bragging if it’s true, Shitstick!” I’d forgotten anger made her aim improve. An unlucky shot tore a bit of skin off one of my ears. I forced myself to laugh. It wasn’t that bad anyway. That ear hadn’t even been there a few minutes ago.“Shitstick huh? You never were all that good with nicknames.” Feeling my prize, I pulled out the apple sized metal sphere and held it up to my mouth, felling for the little loop of metal with my tongue.“Yeah, laugh it up! Gonna be real funny when I’m playing hopscotch in your ribcage!” Huh...creative. I went silent for a bit, focusing on getting a good grip. That and I really wanted her to set me up.“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”Bingo.“Nuh-uh.” I pulled backwards until I heard the click, then jumped up and threw the grenade as hard as I could towards the cart she was hiding behind. “It was the pin!”I will always thank Celestia she was in view at the time and treasure the memory of her face forming a scream in the three seconds it took to blow her cover to woodchips. That, and the sight of her head getting crushed by a wheel of cedar.I spent a few moments basking in the afterglow of finally silencing that tongue of hers. If only I had some sort of camera to record the moment so I could watch it again and again and again…I had already run through it three times in my head before I realized that the other two had stopped shooting.“Shit.” The blistering metal of a rifle barrel touched the back of my skull.“What’s the matter Matchie? You surprised?” a voice cooed in my ear.“Actually yes. I never really expected you’d pull the trigger.” She was smirking. She always smirked when she killed.“Life’s full of little surprises like that.” There was a giggle. I was about to be short one head and someone was fucking giggling. I don’t know why that pissed me off above everything else, but it did. “I wish it didn’t have to end like this. I really appreciate what you’ve done here today. And you always were kind of cute.”“Cute enough for you to shoot Rebar?”“Almost, but not quite.” The gun dug into my skin. “Look at it this way. You won’t have nightmares anymore!”There was a loud crack and I didn’t hear anything anymore. Well that wasn’t true, I heard a ring. It was kind of annoying actually. Still, if this was the afterlife, an annoying ring was a lot more lenient than I expected. Fire and brimstone seemed a bit more appropriate.I blinked open my eyes to see what awaited me.Brown landscape, lots of rocks, a couple of broken carts, and a whole mess of bodies. Either many a joke had been confirmed and I’d been living in hell all along, or I was still alive.Neither option seemed all that appealing. The ringing had gone away at least.“I’m afraid you’ll be having a few more nightmares before you’re through.” A round pinged as it was ejected from its chamber. I turned to see X in all her glory standing in front of Grease who was currently missing the entire back half of her skull.“A little early to say that. Rebar’s still around.” I turned back to the caravan. He was out there somewhere. I’d shot him, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t the type to leave an enemy unkilled no matter what state he was in.“Right. He’ll be gunning for both of us now.” I heard her turn the other way. She was facing the cliffs. Smart. X’s eyes were always better than mine and the rocks gave even a big bastard plenty of places to hide.The two of us started moving to clearer ground, back to back for no surprises. He had a shotgun. We had rifles. If we caught him anywhere over thirty feet he was dead.Part of me wondered where the colt was. Rebar would gladly waste a shell if he found him. If the kid had any sense he was already long gone by now.“You see anything?” I asked as we passed one of the wagons. It was the one I’d killed Palm with. Lopsided now without it’s other wheel. The one that was lodged in her face. Wheels. You could always count on them when you least expected it.“No, but I’m keeping an eye out.” That eye was probably staring through a scope. Anything it saw would die. “Don’t forget I have two and one of them’s on you. I’m not getting shot in the back.”“How about the side?”There was a loud creak and the cart tilted. Inside the bed was Rebar. On his face was a grin. At his side was a shotgun. Where it was pointed was X.The first shot tore into her side, turning her ribcage into a pile of bleeding flesh, ripped barding, and metal pellets. The second shot got her left hind leg, whipping it out from under her. It would have been kind of funny if part of it hadn’t broken off. The third he got up close for, firing point blank onto her horn. It shattered with a small spark and she let out one of the most soul shattering screams I’ve ever heard. The fourth was more of a mercy than anything. It split her skull wide open. He hit her right on the big X shaped scar on her cheek.I wish I’d had the guts to ask how it got there.The fifth shot he turned on me, but I was already running. It didn’t change a damn thing. Could have almost mistaken it for a kick when the buckshot hit my side. Suddenly my legs just weren’t receiving orders anymore and I tripped. I didn’t feel the impact. Not really.“You know, I’ve always been looking forward to this.” There was a shadow standing over me. It seemed to block out all of the light, finishing the job of the clouds. I coughed. It was red. “And what do you know, it’s even more satisfying than I expected.”There was pressure. A lot of it. Right on my side. It hurt. I tried to scream. Couldn’t manage it. Something cracked.“No point in drawing this out. Let’s just get on with it.” The gun was lowered. Five shots. It held six. Things were going dark. “When you get to hell, tell your mom I said hi.”There was another shot. Not for me. Too quiet. Too far away. There was a sound. It was very wet. Gurgling I think. Disgusting. The pressure stopped. The shadow fell in front of me. Rebar. Hole in his throat. Lots of coughing. Lots of red. He looked mad. Glaring at something. He stopped breathing.Something clacked. Dropped maybe. There was retching. Then crying. I wanted to look. Couldn’t though. Nothing would move. Side still hurt. Things were dark.There was another shadow. Past Rebar. Really far away. Getting closer. Couldn’t see. Didn’t care. Very tired. Things were darker.Crying wouldn’t stop. Made me happy. Didn’t know why. Was it for me? No. Could pretend though. It was nice. Thinking someone cared.Things went black.No more nightmares…
Raider (Origin): You’ve done things most ponies wouldn’t even consider in their darkest nightmares. Because of this, you have no problems causing pain and deal 10% extra damage and gain +5 skill with all weapon types. However, this life has left you socially inept, causing you to lose -20 skill points to speech and barter and lose -1 charisma should your origin be revealed.
Fallout Equestria: Monster
“Well?” he asked and my spine locked up. His eyes didn’t leave me, staring ahead like some dead thing. I felt cold. “I’m waiting.”
I couldn’t bear to look at him so I slammed my eyes shut, determined never to open them again. I could still feel him there. Watching me. Waiting for me…expecting…
“You’re pathetic.” The cold started to boil until it turned into rage. I looked up and he was gone, but Rebar was there glaring down at me with that smug grin. Only he was bleeding through a hole in his neck. “You know, being killed by a kid isn’t so bad. At least I didn’t-”
“DUDE, YOU FUCKING SHOT ME!” Brittle spilled crimson from his chest. It was a large stream that flowed down the front and died his coat red. A good look for him…“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FUCKING SHOT ME!”
“If he hadn’t, one of us would’ve.” Suddenly they were all there. Palm with a crease in her face, Cork on fire and missing a hoof, X in pieces yet somehow standing, Grease less pretty with half a head. “Don’t worry. Someone will do him soon enough.”
“All alone now Shitstick.” Palm laughed and one by one they turned and walked away. Cork never said anything to me. It wasn’t his way. Died with a bang, left with a whimper.
In a moment it was just X left, staring at me from far away.
“Should have just let it happen,” she muttered and then she followed. I felt something twist in my gut...
There was a nudge. I turned and I saw.
Bright green eyes looked at me as everything turned to ash.
“Please.”
I would have liked to say I woke up slowly to some kind of annoying continuous sound. That it took me a minute to remember who I am and where I was. That all I had was something that was basically a hangover without the fun that comes before it.
I would have also liked to say I exploded back into consciousness with a loud yell and a cold sweat on my brow. That my eyes darted around me with the crazed, but oddly perceptive gaze of an animal ready to fight for survival. That would have at least been exciting.
But no, I woke up all at once with a croak that should have come from a stallion ten times my age who had just received a particularly spiteful kick to his balls. It was long and pathetic and made me wonder if I’d turned into a ghoul somewhere along the line.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened or why my side felt like it’d lost an argument with a rabid radhog. Some asshole had shot me. With a pretty high caliber gun too if the area of pain was to be believed. And considering that area was ‘fucking EVERYWHERE’ it might have been more than once. The details were hazy at the moment…
Movement was challenging. No, that’s a lie. It was running a triathlon with four lame legs while a colony of fire ants held a swing dancing competition in my bones. Whichever couple had the third right rib from the top was miles ahead of the others. First place. Isn’t even a discussion.
At least the bed was soft. It was more of an encouragement to lie down rather than sit up, but with how stiff everything was I’d done more than enough of that recently. Besides, I wanted to see what fresh hell I’d been thrown into.
Gray concrete, grey metal, grey boxes. I’d swapped a brown damnation for a grey one. Actually, there was a little brown. The bed, a chewed looking wardrobe, and a small nightstand. There was even a bit of red if you counted the sheets. There were shelves against the far wall. Might have been more, but the room formed a right angle and blocked my view of the door.
It all looked familiar…
Though I hadn’t seen it much before, it didn’t take long to figure out where I was. The back room at market. This was where we kept all our best stuff under lock and key and where Rebar…
And where Rebar slept…
Which meant this was his bed…
That he shared with two other people…
Both of them mares…
“OH FUCK NO!” It didn’t matter how much pain I was in, I finished that damn triathlon! It just so happened that the finish line was the ground. The very, very hard ground. That hopefully hadn’t been sexed on.
Mental scarring and concussion. Two more additions to my growing list of injuries.
With my head spinning from the impact, there was the same chance that I’d stand on my own as me suddenly sprouting wings and flying off. So, I did the drunken pony’s shuffle and felt around until I hit the nightstand. With nothing but prayers holding it up, I put both front hooves on top, an act the swing dancers took as the start of round two, and pushed upwards.
I kept going until my eyes came level with a black, tube shaped object with a dull green screen.
I blinked. Then I rubbed my eyes to make sure they were working right. After that I reached out and tapped it. When it was proven to be real I turned it around.
Long live the Ash Queen was carefully etched above the glass with the precision of someone who called themselves an artist. It was a sentence I’d seen many times in my youth and heard shouted twice as many. A little stroke of vanity on her part. The most she would allow herself.
In my hooves I held my birthright. The last worldly reminder I had of my mother.
If it was here, then it wasn’t on Rebar’s leg…and Rebar wouldn’t dare take it off…he probably wasn’t smart enough to know how...so the only reason it would be here and not on him was…
That he got shot to death by a little foal.
I stared at the thing in disbelief. Which turned into a smile. Which became a laugh. Which built upon itself until the dancers decided to switch to the can-can. It was deep and straight from the gut. A way I hadn’t laughed in years, maybe in my whole life. I laughed so hard I fell over backwards and nearly broke another bone. And that STILL didn’t stop me.
Everyone I knew from foalhood was dead. Everyone that used to run with my old gang. Everyone I’d ever served under, I’d ever bowed to, I’d ever scraped my knees and said ‘yes boss’ to was gathering dust and here I was holding my mother’s PipBuck, alive and laughing my flank off!
It was almost surreal. The death of all my gang mates. Becoming the last Asher. It was almost like a dream. Maybe I was dead too. Maybe this was the afterlife. Maybe saving that colt had earned me enough brownie points to bump me down a rung on the punishment ladder. Maybe I got to taste paradise before being sent to my final destination.
I guess it didn’t matter. The point was I had it. Granted, I wasn’t entirely sure on how it worked or everything it did. I knew it had a radio and something to do with combat and that it could shove off anything less than a megaspell without a scratch and honestly, that was enough to know I wanted one. Specifically this one. This one that had been stolen from me seven years ago.
Without wasting another moment, I slapped the thing onto my right leg and snapped it into place.
There was a short jolt as it fired up. I’ll admit it, the thing was old, even by today’s standards. I think it was one of the earlier models so I wouldn’t be able to turn invisible or send a signal five miles or…what else did those stories say these things could do? Create life?
Some wordsflashed in front of my eyes, but I ignored them. Words really didn’t rate high on my importance list, especially when my fur was standing on end. There was something happening, but what it was or why was a little outside my comprehension. And by that I mean I’d need to be a pegasus to reach it.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, a little white line popped up right at the top of my vision. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that it scared the crap out of me. Would have been literal if there was anything in my stomach at the time.
My head jerked back and the little line shook and spun. I blinked and turned my head to the left, watching the ticks move steadily to the right. The letters S and W swung into view. Part of my brain made the connection to South West.
I had a compass! A magic compass! Made out of sparkles!
I am even more embarrassed that I can’t think of a better description for what came out of my mouth than giggling.
A little beep brought me back to the device itself. Apparently the spell matrix was done doing whatever it was spell matrixes did. I moved it up to my face and nudged the little button with the word STATS under it.
“…Damn.” In proper medical terminology, I was FUCKED UP. Minor concussion, several broken ribs, half healed bruising, cuts covering my right side, malnourishment, dehydration, over a hundred rads, plaque…
It was impossible not to move a hoof to my side. There was cloth there, but not the kind I usually wore. In fact, I wasn’t wearing any of that. Someone had taken my clothes and replaced them with bandages. A lot of them.
I can’t say I wasn’t grateful…a little weirded out at the prospect of someone undressing me…
The door creaked.
A gun. I didn’t have a gun! There could be anything around that corner and I had nothing to defend myself with! I could barely move!
Had I been through worse? Probably not. I was well and inescapably fucked! I could hear it moving around down there. Hooves on stone so it was probably a pony. That was good. Shot was slightly preferable to eaten alive. Unless it was a feral. Or a radhog! I didn’t want to die to a radhog! Not even for the irony of being eaten by something that tastes so good! Did radhogs eat meat? Either way it wouldn’t be happy to see me after I ate so many of its fellows. Its delicious, delicious fellows.
I backed into a corner, using the tiny nightstand as cover. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else to go. And it was SOMETHING between me and the unknown. Even if that something was a cheap bit of wood that was leaning pretty heavily to the left and looked like it was about to fall…
I was so dead.
The clip-clop of the hooves grew louder with the beat of my racing heart as I sunk further behind my pathetic shelter. The hallway wasn’t that long. It wouldn’t be more than a few seconds before it was there. Actually less than a few seconds. It was in front of me before I even knew it.
It might have been a unicorn in a past life. It was hard to tell now with all traces of fur and skin gone. The muscle beneath was a reddish-brown and looked only partially rotted. An effort had been made to hide it behind a leather vest and a saddlebag, but even those looked a bit eaten. The teeth were fully exposed and looked dull and sharp at the same time, hanging beneath two eyes that had taken the color of spoiled milk.
The milk eyes found mine and for a moment they just stared. Then they blinked. I blinked back.
“The fuck are you doing?” Skinny asked as one might ask a three year old with his head in the toilet.
“Umm…I thought you were I radhog.” I had not yet left my claimed corner. That was probably the reason behind the staring.
“A radhog…that concussion must be worse than I thought.” He approached the bed, reaching into his saddlebag for something. I didn’t leave the corner. I liked it. It was kind of warm and certainly more comfortable than that cesspit of a bed. Skinny seemed to like it less. “I might be a zombie, but I’m not going to bite. Get out of there!”
“Alright, alright, damn…” I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to eat me. Never seemed to like me the few times we’d met. Never seemed to like any of us come to think of it, though that’s to be expected. I probably tasted like shit either way.
So I crawled out from behind my nightstand and shuffled over to him. He kept digging through his bag. Part of me wanted to ask. The rest just didn’t care. Thus began a civil war over all the parts of my mind. It took thirty seconds for the ask portion to carve out enough territory to force an unconditional surrender.
“So what are you looking fo-AHHH! MOTHERFUCKER!” The swear was for a needle that had been jammed, without warning I might add, into my neck. He kept it there for a second or two, then just tossed it at the wall.
“Med-X,” he answered simply. Almost as if I wasn’t imagining his bones cracking open in the center of a cheery blaze. “You really should be in bed.”
“That bed over there?” I motioned with my head towards the mattress. Might as well be radioactive to me. “I’m not spending another second in that thing.”
“Why not?” His raised an eyebrow…or he would have it he still had any hair whatsoever. “It’s a perfectly fine bed. I’d dare to say it’s lavish considering where we are. What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s Rebar’s bed.” I told him, as if that explained everything. Apparently it didn’t since he kept staring at me like I was a moron. “The bed he did things in? With two other things I had the pleasure of watching die earlier?” It wasn’t that hard to figure out why I’d be burning the thing at the earliest opportunity.
“So? It’s a perfectly good bed. I think it’s even stuffed with real feathers.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that three people I hate fucked on it. The stains must be cleansed! And the only way I’ll accept is through fire!”
“…Fine. Do what you want.” He turned and started headed back the way he came. I had won! Now I just needed kerosene. “There’s food out here. You haven’t eaten in three days.” Kerosene could wait, or at least that’s what my stomach was screaming. I ran- “And walk slow! Just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean every step isn’t tearing the fuck out of your insides.” I calmly trotted up beside him.
“So, what’s left in this shithole?” The pantry had an uncomfortable echo to it even before all this shit. Even if it had only been one person eating for three days, feasting was pretty far off.
“We’re sitting pretty. There was quite a bit of food in those carts. A lot of it was blown to pieces, but there’s more than enough to fill our guts.” Oh yeah, the caravan. I’d completely forgotten why we’d started all this in the first place. “Managed to salvage a few brahmin steaks too. Kid wasn’t too happy about it, but he’ll get over it.” And the kid…forgot about him to.
I swallowed.
“So…he’s here is he?” The chances of this going well were roughly on par with Princess Luna descending from the sky and carrying me off to her moon palace to be her companion and lover for all eternity.
“Of course he is. You think I’m going to leave some foal all alone on a fucking battlefield?” Skinny was not one of us. He had a deal with us, but he made it very clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with us beyond that. Course, he’d apparently saved my stupid ass so maybe I wasn’t one of ‘us’ either.
“No, I guess not.” Good guys always had to make everything difficult. “He’s not going to be pleased to see me.”
“He doesn’t have any reason to be.” I could have mentioned that I saved that brat’s life. I could have, but it would hardly earn me any points and I was already in the negative. If the conversation continued, it would just get worse and worse. Both of us knew this, but it wasn’t like we had anything else to talk about.
Oh wait, I had a PipBuck now.
“So how the hell did you get this thing off anyway?” I still had that compass up. Kind of weird really. Still, it was something I’d have to get used to. Along with the slight glow and the extra weight. Worth it though. Hopefully. “Everyone else had to hack off the leg. Still took them a couple weeks of fiddling with the locks…”
“Yeah, well I’m over two hundred years old. I was around when some egghead first came up with the idea for them. Should have seen the advertisements.” I think he actually cracked a smile there. Couldn’t blame him. You could still find some legible posters here and there. Some of the corniest shit I’ve ever seen. “Anyway, you learn this and that over time and it’s just something I picked up somewhere.”
We stepped out into the main room. It looked exactly as it did three days ago. Minus most of the vicious raiders. We started heading for the coffee shop turned pantry. Come to think of it, that used to have some nice ads. There was this one with a couple of mares and DAMN. Too bad someone stole it. The jerk. I hope radroaches chewed his cock off.
“I’m surprised you gave it to me. These little wonder-gadgets are pretty hard to get ahold of.” Never learned how Charcoal got one. Then again, who cared? I had it now. Nothing else mattered.
“I don’t trust them. Tendency to cause trouble. Would have given it to the kid but he’d just try to break it. Still, didn’t feel right just leaving it there, so…here you go.”
“Gee thanks. I’ll treasure it always.”
“Of course you will. You have no idea how to get it off.”
“True.” Couldn’t hop across the counter this time. Not without tearing my ribcage in half. So I had to go the boring way with Skinny. How long did it take shotgun wounds to heal anyway? I was asleep three days. That should have taken care of most of it, right?
“So, you in the mood for anything in particular?” The corpse hadn’t lied. The shop was overflowing with boxes and cans. I hadn’t seen that many pre-war beans since that bunker with the ghoul that wouldn’t shut up about how ‘THE STRIPES ‘RE COMIN TAH TAKE MAH GUNS!’ What a loudmouth he was. Had some good rifles though.
“I’d eat the grass outside if there was any.” Or if it wasn’t all the color of shit that’s been out in the sun too long. Which made no sense since they never got any sun to begin with. Which also calls into question how I knew what shit looked like when it got a lot of sun, but this comparison is starting to get away from me.
“I got something that tastes about the same.” He tossed me a can of cram. If it was anything like the last hundred cans of cram I’d had, his description was spot on. It was followed up with a bottle of water.
“Wow. I feel like a king.” I popped the top of the can and started shoveling the mush inside down my food hole. Yep. That was the taste of shit-grass alright.
“Isn’t that your title now?” He leaned against the wall opposite me, digging in his saddlebag again. “You’re the last Asher so you must be the king.”
“Yeah. I guess I am.” The can was discarded, it’s contents finished in twenty seconds flat. Then I stood. This was an official proclamation after all. Couldn’t make those sitting down. “I, Matchstick, Ninth Ash King of the Wastes, hereby relinquish my title and all of the duties and assets accompanying it, save for the PipBuck which is my crown for it is attached to my leg and a bitch to get off. So says the Maker of Cinders and may any who would challenge him be burnt by the fires of Tartarus.” With that out of the way, I sat down and got to work on the water.
“Can’t say I was expecting that.” My eyes lit up when I saw what was in those saddlebags. A pack of premium Lucky Strike smokes.
“Trust me, the title’s more trouble than it’s worth. Every single Ash King before me has met a bad end and only one was worth a damn. Not saying anything about the Queens.” I chugged the whole bottle even faster than I engulfed the cram. My PipBuck made a clicking sound. A little note appeared saying I had gained +3 Rads. Neat. “Mind sharing?”
“What, these?” He pulled one from the box and lit it with a spark from his horn. Lucky, pointy bastards. Going around with lighters attached to their foreheads. “They’ll give you cancer.”
“You’re having one.”
“And there’s no part of me that isn’t overflowing with cancer.” He took a long drag and blew the smoke out in a ring (away from me I might add).
“Whatever. Jerk.” I suppose I couldn’t really complain. It’s not like I got them enough to build up a dependence. Still, smoking and pyromania go hoof in hoof. There was a certain look I had to maintain. It wasn’t all about arson you know.
“I’m sorry, who saved who’s life not three days ago?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he actually looked pissed off. But who could tell with that face?
“I saved a foal’s life. That’s worth more points.” Previous twenty-seven years of debt notwithstanding.
“Points?” He actually stood up this time. Managed to last seven minutes without hitting a landmine. Beat my last record with Skinny by six. “There’s no points! This is life! There’s no arbitrary number saying how much good karma you’ve built up! That would be fucking stupid! Not even zebras are that black and white!”
“You can bitch about it till the sun explodes. I still got more points.”
“Oh please. If anything, you have negative points.”
“And you don’t?” He looked like he had another comeback, but it died somewhere near his lungs. Guys like that always had something they didn’t want to think about. Good way to shut them down. “Knew it. Talk all you want old colt. You’re just a-”
“Hey!” Suddenly he was there, standing right next to me in the doorway. The little unicorn with the green eyes. They seemed especially bright from the flames of hate burning in them as he stared at me.
I didn’t say anything. It was kind of a shock to see him really. Not too long ago I had saved his life. Then he turned right around and saved mine. If circumstances were different, the two of us might have cracked smiles and laughed about it.
As circumstances were, he said this:
“We should have shot him!”
For a moment, neither of us could really think of anything to say in response. Wouldn’t have been surprised if we blinked in unison.
“Well that was fucking blunt.” So much for everyone wanting to kill me being dead. Though I guess that wasn’t truly possible. Labels had a tendency to stay stuck forever and cause all sorts of problems. My problems usually involved bullets. “Is that how you thank everyone or just me?”
“THANK YOU?” I set him off, now his little head was going to explode. “HOW ‘BOUT I-”
“Don’t.” Skinny got between us quicker than I could believe. For a stallion whose muscles had started to rot, he was pretty spry. “Don’t start fighting now. There’s no point.”
“No point?” I, as a raider, have seen many death glares in my life. I have seen them from both sides and all angles. From people in all different walks of life. I even spent time perfecting my own. One to sling at people who were about to become messes. In other words, I’ve seen a lot of angry people. I still maintain that colt had one of the scariest faces I’d ever seen. “HE-”
“Saved your life. And you saved his.” Skinny never missed a beat. Ever. “Both of you are all paid up. It’s already over. Deal with it.”
The kid looked between the two of us. There was a fifty-fifty chance his hooves were going to be at my throat in an instant. More than fifty actually. I would have been surprised if anything else happened.
I was very surprised.
“Okay.” His voice was flat and tight. There was a lot crowding behind it and I didn’t want to be there when the barricade fell. The colt turned and stormed off without another word.
“This is going to be a problem later, isn’t it?” At least he was open about wanting to kill me. An eight year old might not seem like much of a threat, but after all the assassination attempts I’d seen, been targeted by, or been a part of, I’d learned to take this stuff seriously. Good thing I was a light sleeper. Sort of.
“No. It won’t.” He returned to his previous place and lit up ANOTHER cigarette. Now he was just taunting me! “There’s a town three days from here. Both of us will be gone by morning.”
“Huh.” I moved a little closer and sat down, hoping to get a whiff of that sweet, sweet poison he was breathing. “So that’s it then? Just fix me up and waltz off without so much as leaving a bill?”
“Oh, there’s a bill.” Should have kept my mouth shut.
“Dare I ask what it is?” What did I have that a two hundred year old skinless wastelander could possibly want? My gun was a joke. My armor probably had a hole in it large enough to fit my head through. Only thing left was the PipBuck. “It’s not sex stuff is it?”
“No,” he said a little more forcefully than was necessary. “Honestly…one of the carts was still salvageable. Kind of. It moves.” Salvable as firewood maybe.
“I don’t own the carts. Take them.” The kid probably owned the carts through his parents, but then again he was a foal with no gun so property laws were stacked against him.
“The cart isn’t the point.” Carts were never the point. It was the cargo people lived, bled, and died for. I knew what he wanted to carry. There wasn’t much else here. Only one real question.
“How much?”
He didn’t bat an eye.
“Everything. Food, ammunition, weapons, scrap, as much as it will carry. Worth a lot to the right buyers.” He wasn’t even going to pretend he needed it. Just sell the lot for caps and be done with it. Never mind that most of the weapons here had nothing to do with that caravan or the fact that he was just as much at fault for its destruction as I was.
“Oh I see your game now!” I wasn’t just going to sit down and get robbed. So I stood up and advanced on him. Words carried more weight from striking distance. “Play the good doctor rewarding an act of kindness then take everything he’s worth when the healing’s done! Didn’t know that syringe was full of snake oil!”
“I’m not taking everything. There’s another town a week to the north. You’ll get enough to reach it. And a better rifle. An automatic from the war.” A week of food and a gun that stopped shooting straight a hundred years ago. How fucking generous. “I already fit it to your saddle. The rest you can consider payment.”
“I’m a fucking Raider! I don’t pay for anything!” Now I knew how the kid felt. I was right in front of him, very little keeping me from merging my hoof with his windpipe. All it would take was one little lunge…
“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!” Suddenly we were eye to eye. He was ready to fight. Had been the whole time. And I wasn’t sure I could beat him. Even with the Med-X it was harder to move than I’d like. And how many whacks would it take to re-break a rib? How likely was it to puncture a lung?
And there was something else. A low hum. He was using magic. Using it to shift something in his saddlebag. Something that was definitely not more smokes.
Of course he was packing. He’d be stupid not to.
“Fine.” I backed off. No point in angering him further. Not now, after I’d just taken so much lead. And something told me the ghoul wouldn’t gloat before taking the kill shot. “If you’re still here when I wake up I’m blowing your fucking head off.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His bag shifted again. Out of the fire for now, though his eyes made it very clear the flames hadn’t gone out. They probably never would.
I backed out of the shop. Hopefully the brat hadn’t taken up stock in my room. A pissing match wouldn’t help anything. Not when I was unarmed and my ‘savior’ was more than biased against me. If it comes right down to it, who's getting shot? The foal or the Raider?
Not a hard guess.
Still, I’d won. All the others were dead, I had my mother’s crown, anonymity, an assault rifle, and a week’s worth of food.
I suppose I could do a lot worse.
PipBuck acquired!
(Former) Ash King (Trait): Whether you’ve relinquished it or not, you’ve inherited a cursed title. Anything that creates ash (explosives, MEW, etc.) gets a +5 to skill and a bonus 5% critical chance. Regicide, however, is a big threat as your enemies’ criticals do double damage.
