The Hotshots of Fallout Equestria

One day, between dawn and dusk –nopony could ever tell, the smoggy clouds were too thick- there was a group of ponies who stomped miles of bare, scratchy rock through the barbaric light and into a pitch black night. In every direction the dismal sky shadowed Equestria, trying to hide its obliterated lands, and under this hellish blanket they set up camp, hoping to get a few hours sleep.

A short trek away, overlooking a steep valley set on the outskirts of Manehatten which was practically a trap for unwitting folk, a tin-grey earth pony scaled the razor sharp rock to stalk three rough looking fiends. They chatted among themselves nearby the broken remains of a horse drawn cart, which he thought at first had probably been delivering goods from one settlement to another until it met its fate. The three raiders, dressed in blood stained barding they decorated with sharp spikes to try and intimidate their foe, had ambushed the defenceless caravan, seemingly more out of greed than desperation as they stood idly by, not scavenging fresh food or water.

Parched himself was that pony on the hill top, and that stallion was me. Ronnie’s my name. I had been patrolling our camp after we stopped on our way to Manehatten, unaware of what dangers lurked in the darkness of the freezing night. I lusted after a beer or two, something to numb my shivering flank as I espied the raiders, though to my misfortune our boss forbid us from drinking when on a job. Understandable.

I was part of a group named ‘The Hotshots’, named after an old, infamous criminal ‘Tick-Tock Hotshot’, an ambitious villain before the Megaspells decided to fall. Their income was drug money, Dash and Rage being their forte. The boys crafted the drugs deep in every basement and behind every hidden factory door they could find. Our mission, self proclaimed by the current Tick-Tock, who by naming himself after the original kept with our aim of carrying on the legacy of the gang, was to continue the heritage and expand the business. A longshot, but as Tick once announced: “Every longshot is a hotshot!” Oh and yes, we have accents.

Sadly -in my opinion anyway- we’re still in that business, forced by Tick-Tock. I say forced, but he is my close friend, and nopony else seems to dislike the idea of drug money. So, really, I’m the only one who dislikes it. It’s far more dangerous now than before the war. Around every corner there’s a pony too ambitious, or some lone mutant creature too foolish, wishing to challenge our ancient business, and they only end up with one thing: a bullet in their thick skull.

Gangster! That’s what ponies called us back then! We were the ones slipping under the Royal Guards’ noses unnoticed, armed to the teeth in case of trouble. There aren’t any Guards to avoid these days, so then again I guess it’s easier in a way. Saying that, even the air wants to kill you in this forsaken land.

That day I was dressed in my trusty silver leather jacket, as I did most days. It stood out in the bland wasteland, making me quite the target, but somehow it never actually came back to bite me. Maybe it helped that a massive burn mark stained the back of it. It wasn’t too big, though you can clearly see it in the distance. I suppose it might have revealed I had experienced a horror or two, or maybe I just leant too near a fire one day. Either way, I wouldn’t be stopping to tell enemies my story.

The wasteland was cold. The poisonous sky soaked up the sunlight, and to be frank I wouldn’t be in the drug industry if I had a cap for every pony which keeled over from hypothermia. It did its job, all while keeping the necessities close to my heart. My jacket harboured a small revolver in one of its large pockets, while I slung my hunting rifle over my back. Good old bullets, none of this laser or plasma bull.

I often smoked cigarettes too. The good ones though, not those cheap lines of paper you got from New Appleloosa. A problem arose from smoking quality cigs though. The smoke stained the tip of my ‘suave’ felt hat, changing the colour from a nice solid brown to a dullish grey, much like the rest of Equestria. I usually hid my short, honey blonde mane under that hat, protected from gusts of heavy dust which plagued every traveller most days.

No cigarettes for me that morning though, I was focused on one task only.

Only a few minutes earlier I had heard shooting and immediately made my way to the closest vantage point. Upon scouting the valley I caught a glimpse of muzzle flashes. I crept around the barren rock that loomed over the valley’s edge and watched as raiders pillaged their two victims, slaughtering them mercilessly in a volley of bullets.

The fact that they were all armed didn’t matter at all. These raiders were scum of the nation. You think drug dealers are low? You haven’t seen anything yet. One thought ran through my head: ‘Today I could add three more lines to my count.’ One was red, one blue and the other green.

I nudged my hat upwards and squinted my emerald eyes as I lined up a shot with the worn bolt action rifle. The raiders made no effort to secure their position, near enough standing like statues as their leader, the Red pony, hauled out an open chest which cast a white glimmer on the valley side. Her eyes widened with joy and she cheered as the other two inspected the treasure. I aimed for her head, as she wore no helmet, and as she stood on her back legs…

“Not today.”

The shot echoed throughout the valley, bouncing from one side to another. The metal buried itself deep into her brain, spurting out blood as her body twitched in the dust.

I cocked my rifle before the other two had a chance to react and swiftly fired a shot straight through the green raider’s chest, leaving the blue one all alone to recoup himself. Luckily for the young fiend cover was close, and so he dived behind a crumbling pile of debris. I saw his laser rifle’s barrel pop out from the cover in clear view and shake violently, probably a lure for me to shoot.

I shook my head; only a fool would shoot. However this gave me the notion that he hadn’t seen me yet and that somepony else other than the two I killed was with him, scanning the valley and searching me. I too scoped out the area. And a second time to reassure myself.

Sure as hell there was nopony else around, so I waited for the moment to strike. After a few moments of absolute silence she poked his head around the loose rocks and took quick glances in every direction. Unfortunately for the blue stallion he looked in my direction last.

This time the bullet hit bullseye

A mixture of brains and blood stained the ash and dust around what used to be his head. I picked myself up, reloaded, then sighed.

I slowly clambered down the rocky hillside, choosing my path carefully. Puffs of dust sprouted up and clutched onto my jacket, causing parts of it to become completely grey. I dusted it off and realised how haunting this passage was. Bones were scattered from start to end, some dug deep, others quite new.

Well, it was time to claim my prize. You couldn’t just abandon an ownerless caravan without looting it first. You’d be committing a sin.

Turned out its owners were a married couple, probably hoping to cross from Manehatten to Friendship City for safety. Manehatten was on the frontline of mutant attacks after all. Some safety they reached. I scavenged what I could from the remains, hoping to find a key for what was locked up in the cart. Then I realised it had already been bust open. Silly me I guess.

I decided to perform a thorough search of the raiders, seeing as how they were so well equipped with laser weapons.

The first raider I shot, the mare, had on her a hunting rifle pretty much identical to mine in condition. Without a second thought I loaded it with what little ammo I brought, just for safety, and slung it over my back, happy that I could finally repair my deteriorating piece of scrap. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a useable hunting rifle those days!

The green pony had nothing special. A few caps in one pocket and one or two bullets in his pistol but apart from that nothing that would serve any use to me. I took his barding though. If you’re asking why I’m stripping another pony then you wouldn’t survive long in times like these. Scrap metal is vital for trade and repair. Remember that.

The third pony on the other hand held a laser rifle in his cold, dead hooves, and I was extremely curious to know how he got his hooves on such a thing. Ignoring the gore splattered over his front I separated the laser rifle and all its ammo from the dead raider and found that the weapon was no regular laser rifle. It had three chambers in pristine condition and was twice the usual size. I stood there in confusion.

“Nancy Newlook bite my balls.” I muttered under my breath, firing it once to check it wasn’t a fake or something stupid like that. Three bolts of soaring red melted a chunk of the valley side, creating a crisp dent. In the end I reckoned she must have been part of a much bigger gang, because to have a weapon like that around here means killing some important ponies. Then again, I had just killed a simple raider to get a hold of one…

I gently set down the rifle beside the wooden caravan, on top of the pile of loot I had already created. I was about to see what was so interesting inside that wooden chest, but the rustle of boxed food caught my ear from inside the caravan.

I searched the over turned horse cart hoping to find some decent food and maybe purified water if luck blessed me. Even ammo if I’d been a good boy for Hearth Warming Eve. I jumped onto the cart and peeked inside, ready for bags and bags of mouth watering goodness bursting at the seams for a successful trip home.

Well, you could say I got more than I bargained for. Sure I saw packets of Crispy Tater Chips and Strawberry Dandies ripe for the picking, but what both caught my eye and twisted my stomach was the sight of a young white filly with a messy maroon mane and tail, curled up beneath a torn curtain.

She was breathing heavily; cowering beneath the sheets. To my saving grace she hadn’t noticed my presence, giving me the chance to escape quickly.

As I inched further and further from the cart a vigorous debate roared on in my mind. This was possibly the most important decision in my life. It was morals versus pride. What would the others think if I returned to base with a filly? And how could I fit back into the gang with her to look after?

I scratched my head and wondered what would be the best thing to do. I wasn’t the right kind of pony to look after a kid, especially since even I have no real home. I may as well have given her a gun and injected her with thirty doses of Dash.

In the end I piled up the bodies of the dead ponies, now likely to be the parents of the filly, and set them with the bandits I previously dragged far behind the broken caravan, out of sight.

I took one more peek inside the cart before seeing about… How would you put it? Saying hello?

“Hey…” I said quietly, tapping her on the back. “You awake? You alright?”

No answer.

I sighed. “Come on now, out’cha get.”

Still nothing, however she stopped shaking. I tried getting her into some open air, the little good that would do her.

Her little white body twitched as I tried to pick her up and pull her out of the cart, but she was still so I assumed this was going to be easy. Of course I was wrong. Just as her back hooves left the floor she jolted and slipped from my grasp, falling to the dry, sandy ground. The energetic little pony didn’t stop there; she carried on and made a runner to the valley’s opening, kicking a pile of blinding sand into my face. I was reluctant to pursue, after all if she didn’t want my help who was I to force it on her?

I wasn’t obliged to help every pony I come across. Hell the only reason I found this unicorn was because I killed a few raiders. It was then I reckoned it was time to head back.

That was the case until I heard voices. I turned swiftly to watch the filly freeze still. From the far entrance to the valley I saw five or so raiders appear, calling for their companions.

“You out there?” One yelled, his voice gravelly like he had swallowed a few stones for breakfast.

Though they were still silhouettes my eyes darted around for a way out. My time grew short as they quickened their pace after receiving no answer.

“Get over here, now!” I said in a very loud whisper. She really was frozen with fear. There was no chance of the white filly running back. Sweat beads began slipping down from my forelock. I couldn’t let an innocent child die when I could have done something, when I was watching her. Raiders are one thing, but a filly? Boy I changed my mind fast.

A sudden rush raced through me, one I hadn’t felt since me and the gang fought with a group of mutant dogs back near Old Olneigh. It was just a feeling of…of… ‘Let’s do it!’

And so I galloped to the defenceless child in one breath and used myself as a shield while she retreated. I cocked the two rifles I had on my back, tipped my hat up out of my eyes and prepared to defend the little pony.

Without moving from my stance I managed to snap her out of her fright and push her back with one of my back legs. “Go on!” I said, still trying to whisper, though my voice began to break. “Run to the cart and hide!”

She wiped the tears from her sapphire eyes and nodded. As she raced to the cart as fast as her little legs could carry her I slowly crept backwards, keeping both eyes on the coming enemy. Somehow they hadn’t realised I was here, probably because it was a decent ways between the valley entrance and the cart. This gave me the time to get far enough back and get into cover. I placed down one of the rifles beside me and lined up a shot on the fools with my own trusty gun. I didn't know how well I could do though; one versus five wasn’t the best odds.

Soon enough they realised something was seriously wrong. They spread out and lifted their guns up, shouting and asking who was here. Two of them levitated pistols while the other three held laser rifles, just like the one I found. Again I wondered how these guys managed to find laser rifles, but that was for later. After making sure Whitey (a fitting name) was safe and sound, for the time being anyhow, I took aim and…

His heart was ripped apart.

One laser rifle down. As I expected these weren’t as clueless as the previous raiders; these ones actually shot at me. It wasn’t the loud cracks of pistol bullets against my cover that fazed me; it was the speed in which those laser weapons melted away the ancient rock in a matter of minutes. I had never really experienced a gunfight that included laser weaponry. I simply thanked Celestia it wasn’t a battle versus Steel Rangers. That’d be the day I’d quit trying.

“You two! Get up there and make him bleed!” I heard the same pony from before order. Oh the stupidity of some raiders. They may as well shout out their address, family name and what they’re wearing, the way they do things. Where they’re going to move next would be nice too. But, I now knew that two ponies were moving towards me. I nearly thanked them.

I quietly paced backwards, far enough to catch a glimpse of them but still be within cover, hoping for a chance to catch them unaware. I sat on my flank and straightened my hunting rifle, placing the other one within reach to save me reloading time. A pony without armour faced my iron sights, and with a bit of pressure on the trigger…

A shot rippled through the yellow pony’s leg, leaving him incapacitated and bleeding out, screaming and calling for healing aid. “Aaah! H-h- argh! Help me!” I would describe his cry as ‘blood curdling’, but I had heard it all before. The second ignored his friend and focused on living, crouching low and firing his pistol like there was no tomorrow, praying he would land a fatal shot.

Bullets flared and cracked past me as I leaned back and took another shot, this one hitting the second raider’s neck. Blood poured from the gaping hole as he fell hard, sending a cloud of dust up around him. I scanned for the remaining bandits and in doing so a laser bolt struck me, leaving a hissing burn seeping into my back leg.

“Fffuck!” I yelled in pain and held my leg, watching as the hole grew deeper and cooked the meat. Gritting my teeth I held back anymore shouts; one was enough. Didn’t want them to think they’d won.

“We got him!” One said with glee.

Oh no, “Not today…”

I leapt forwards and balanced my rifle on what remained of the charcoaled rock, firing the three remaining bullets rapidly, however to no avail. A few pieces of rock chipped off the valley wall as each shot ricocheted and missed the ponies completely.

Another roasting bolt struck my cover sending a wave of heat and debris against me, knocking me backwards in a daze.

I regretted my short rush, slightly. It sucked the energy out of me, as if the raiders felt a bit thirsty and fancied a bit of pony-juice. Me freezing to death would probably be next, the night is dark and full of terrors, but none I feared more than the chill. Then again these raiders would finish me off before that, funnily enough with their laser rifles meaning it would be a pretty hot death I’d face. I imagined them triumphing over me, boasting about their new leather jacket.

No chance. As I grunted in pain I noticed the wound had stopped sizzling but the damage had been done. Without a healing potion soon I feared it would be permanent. I had at least one in my saddlebag, and there should have been plenty of them scattered around the caravan’s remains. I searched for my saddlebag and saw it resting beside the cart, within a few metres reach.

I began to feel drowsy. I shook my head, trying to focus on the bag. Crawling forward I used a hoof to practically drag me across the dirt I neared the saddlebag. The constant thought of my doom nearing thumped back and forth in my mind. I did not fear death, much, but for some stupid reason I feared for the little one. It doesn’t take long to warm to somepony who hasn’t immediately tried to kill you, especially a kid.

I thought I could handle whatever the raiders threw at me when they captured me. I mean, I hoped it would be a quick death, but most ponies knew that was a dream. Torture was a speciality of theirs like drug making was to The Hotshots. But the filly? Nope, I couldn’t bring myself to lie by and not even try to prevent her fate.

“Hey! Little filly!” I tried to shout, though dust sprang up as I crawled and choked me. “Run!” I warned while in a coughing fit. “Get outta here!”

Instantly a white ear perked up from inside the cart. I wondered why she had returned to the cart, but I suppose it meant she hadn’t seen her parents’ bodies yet. That might have been the final straw for her young heart.

Whitey’s horn peeked out, followed by her eyes and her hooves to keep herself up. She wasn’t the tallest filly, quite small for her age actually, but she had her cutie mark. I hadn’t seen it properly but I knew she had one. Slowly she scrambled out of her hiding place. She was halfway out when a beam melted the wood beside her, causing her to fall the rest of the way in shock. It seemed one of the raiders had their sights on the cart, though I didn’t know if anypony was advancing to get me.

“Go on!” Growing impatient I hurried her, the pain was unbearable and I was fighting as hard as I could to stay awake. The whizzing of bolts flew into the ground either side of me. They must have thought I was still fighting.

Still Whitey remained at the base of the cart, recovering both from her short fall and the bolt nearly ending her. “Get outta here!” I repeated harshly, hoping to at least scare her. “Go!”

She ignored my words and ran over to me, hiding behind me in cover. What was she doing? Surely this filly had a death wish. I looked back and tried to reach for one of the rifles, but my efforts failed, so in a quick panic I searched my coat pocket and fished out my revolver, cocking it ready for my stand.

The last stand of Ronnie Searer.

I felt a force of weight change behind me as Whitey was suddenly tackled down by one of the raiders I presumed to be finished. He had gone quiet, however the bleeding from the wound in his leg hadn’t seized. I thought he must be as useless as myself in his condition, as he struggled even to hold her down.

Whitey screamed for help and to my luck the raider had ignored me, perhaps thinking I was done for anyway, taking me for dead, or even thinking Whitey was the one fighting them.

“Now then…” I said loud enough for the raider to hear me and stop.

As he turned his head his pupils dilated as a flash exploded from my revolver.

It flew out of my hands in shards.

Three rifles, one smoking, were aimed at my face.

My revolver was in smithereens. The injured raider was laughing as he held down Whitey, ignoring his pain through sheer joy of surviving. That was pretty much that. I gave up. My head crashed onto the valley floor and puffs of dust clouded above me.

I stared upwards and realized how much of a trap all this seemed. The valley was towering over me, moving in to crush us. The degraded sky gave no new sight of freedom or sign of a coming change. Raiders advanced from one end of this death pit, while the other end was too far away to reach...

Perhaps I should have left the filly...

“Ronnie?!” I heard one of them bellow.

What? How did they know my name? He sounded familiar. He had an accent... I raised my head and began pushing myself off the ground. “Wha-“

“YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!”

A storm of missiles thundered down on the raiders, catching them completely by surprise. I dived forwards and pushed the injured raider off of Whitey, and protected her myself. Holes ripped through those standing above me, a wave of blood spilling onto my legs, and some dripping into the wound. I prayed none of it was on my jacket; I didn’t feel the need for a new style of red. I felt Whitey trembling beneath me, and as I glanced at the injured pony I watched him reaching for his pistol, but somepony else got there first.

A light brown hoof planted itself firmly onto the pistol. “You dirty mutta’ fuckers!” He roared in only what can be called the thickest gangster accent in the wasteland. “What the fuck you think you’re doin’ to my friend, eh?”

It was Hotshot. Tick-Tock Hotshot. Thank fuck.

“You stupid mutta’ fucker you.”

He began stomping on the raider’s leg, ignoring the screams and cries. Whitey put her hooves against her ears and faced away as I raised my leg to get up. I tried to stand but I hadn’t the energy; my wound was severe.

“Tick.” I said weakly, slipping into unconsciousness. “Tick.” I said again, this time a little louder.

It wasn’t Tick who realised I was still awake, it was Dusk, one of the gang’s twins –hey, you’ve got to have them; the original Hotshots had triplets after all!- the other being, have a guess; Dawn.

He galloped over bent down next to my leg. “Damn, Ronnie.” He said with a smile, trying to lighten me up for the time being. He somehow hadn’t noticed Whitey while he hurried to fix me up. I tried to instruct Dusk to take care of Whitey as he inspected my swollen wound, clearing the foreign blood from it.

“Filly unicorn,” I said in deep breaths, flopping onto my back to reveal her from under me. “Look after her.”

I remember him staring at her for a few moments before returning his attention to my leg. He called over Tick to carry me, but my hearing was becoming funny. My head swayed and the last thing I saw was purple sparks swarming my leg and the sensation of a healing potion sliding down my throat. It should have been enough to keep me awake, but, I was tired. I had been on patrol duty all night, after all.

The last thing I heard was Hotshot giving the final blow to his prisoner with an iron hoof. Have another guess, this time at what he said, and the last thing I heard until I woke up. Chances are you’re right.

“You fuck!”