Fallout: Equestria - The Least Of Us

“Put on your Sunday clothes,

There's lots of world out there

Get out the brillantine and dime cigars

We're gonna find adventure in the evening air...”

Boss looked back at the stable. The cheery expression on Chubby Chuckles’ face bored into her skull even as the door closed on the peppy tune.

“I hate him,” said Boss, when the door was finally closed. “I really, seriously do.”

There was a grunt of affirmation, though Boss didn’t know which pony it was, nor did she care.

Two ponies stepped with her out into the dark caves outside the stable entrance. One of them was Officer Staunch. The other was another security officer named Fixit. He was a short, stocky earth pony. A pair of small glasses sat awkwardly on his face, as though they didn’t quite fit him properly, and he was perhaps better at fixing and cleaning guns than he was at firing them. Boss reasoned that he was smarter than Staunch, though, and that had plenty of uses. After all, Fixit spent more time in the library, rather than the firing range.

“Light a flare,” she ordered.

There was a snap and hissing sound, and the cave around them lit up; dank, dark, and rocky, as expected. A lit flare floated in front of Staunch, as he and Fixit looked around, adjusting his glasses with a hoof.

There was a squeak and a hiss as a small cave rat backed away from Boss, its teeth barred threateningly. It lept at Boss, sinking its teeth into her leg. Boss gave a grunt of pain and raised her hoof. The rat clung, but Boss whapped it against the floor and it fell off, limp.

“First order of business if we move everyone out,” she muttered. The jumpsuit’s sleeve had kept her skin protected and unbroken, though the bite still stung. “Pest control.”

Boss looked around. There was the terminal that Emerald had used to contact them, stained with his blood. A few feet away lay a skeleton in a Stable 51 jumpsuit.

“Well, well...” Boss said, walking over to it and kneeling down. “Looks like the last brave adventurer didn’t get very far.” She sorted through the pockets of the jumpsuit, finding a knife and a box of armor-piercing bullets, still in good condition despite the age.

“What do you think got him?” asked Fixit.

Boss paused and looked around. Little red blips were appearing on her Eyes-Forward Sparkle, mainly off in the tunnels to the side.

“We have to be careful in here,” she said. “Rats might not be the worst thing we come across.” A little fidgeting with the PipBuck brought up the map display, showing a clear way out of the cave. “This way,” she said. “We can—”

The Text Incoming Transmission flashed in front of her eyes. A little more fidgeting with her PipBuck, and music filled her ears.

“Put on your Sunday clothes, we're gonna ride through town

In one of those new horsedrawn open cars...”

Boss just stood and thought about how much she really hated Chubby Chuckles.

Chapter 2

Taking On the World

“Boss?” asked Staunch. “You okay?”

Boss had come to a standstill at the mouth of the cave. In front of her bloomed the floor of the canyon. She’d known the world was bigger than her stable, of course, but this sense of space just completely overwhelmed her. The morning air was cool and still, though the sky was gray with clouds. She stared at the stretch of land before her, the river at the bottom flowing through as high canyon walls towered over her. For the first time in her life, she felt... small. Dwarfed by the enormity of the world outside of her stable. And all she wanted to do at that moment was run. Run as fast and far as she could over the canyon floor, until she couldn’t run any more.

“Boss?” asked Staunch.

“Huh?” she asked, jarred from her thoughts.

“You okay?” he repeated.

“You seem kind of...” mumbled Fixit, fumbling over the words. “Like you just spaced.”

“I’m fine, shut up,” she said, shaking her head. She looked upwards to the top of the canyon. “We’ll need to find a way up,” she said. “Look for a path and start climbing.”

Fie on justice!

Fie on goodness!

Fie! Fie! Fie! Fie! FIEEEEE!”

She hadn’t seen a pony out here yet, but the PipBuck was picking up a radio signal. Boss had to admit to herself that she hadn’t seen it coming. However, after the song had finished, there was more to the broadcast.

“Hellooooo everypony,” announced the voice. “Good day from the Voice of Truth, back after a short hiatus because fuck you, Enclave, you do not own my airwaves. Hehe...” the voice chuckled. “I love that song. Don’t you?”

It wasn’t long before they found a path running up the wall of the canyon. It was long, but not steep, and proved only moderately taxing for Boss and Fixit. Staunch managed to keep up a brisk pace, soldiering on ahead of them. About three-quarters of the way to the top, Boss stopped and looked out. The gorge was wide, with a snaking river running through the floor, that had no doubt carved this canyon out over the ages. And off to the side was a massive stone spire.

“Galloping Gorge,” she said. “Kind of funny. Been right outside our front door all this time and we’ve never seen it until now.”

“Now, a word of friendly advice,” said the Voice of Truth over the radio. “Folks from the Law are gonna be doing their rounds shortly, so here’s the thing: don’t stand next to anyone they don’t like. Especially if the Righteous Brothers are there. If you happen to actually be one of the folks they don’t like, I suggest you start running. Just take a map, look at which direction River is in, and run the other way.”

There was something Boss immediately disliked about the Voice of Truth. It was a stallion’s voice, and she couldn’t help but imagine some lazy ham operator reclining in a seat that wasn’t built for the purpose, his head pointed at the ceiling and lazily rattling off whatever ‘witty’ thought occurred to him.

“River?” asked Staunch. “As in ‘a river’ or ‘a place called River’?”

“Maybe it’s a town?” suggested Fixit. He looked down into the gorge. “Or maybe this river? Maybe it’s the only water nearby.”

“Doubt it,” said Boss. “There’s nopony here that we can see. Nopony that you’d need to run away from.” She paused. “From the sound of it, it’s a place where there are ponies. It might be a town.”

“So then there are settlements, then?” asked Fixit.

“Possibly...”

When they finally reached the top of the canyon, Boss took another look. The canyon had seemed big from the bottom, but at the top, even that seemed small compared to the further expanse. In a way, the wide open space nearly scared her. She had simply never encountered anything that big before.

But in another way, it was...

“Boss?” asked Staunch.

“Huh?” she responded. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I’d just... almost looked like you were gonna smile.”

By then, the already grey light of day had dimmed considerably, and they could scarcely see. There was a rundown wooden house, long since abandoned by whoever had lived there. Boss didn’t know if the original inhabitants had died or had simply run away, but she guessed it didn’t matter. What did matter was that they’d left the place a mess. There were broken windows, a rotten and faded couch, a tattered bookcase, and a picture frame that had fallen face-down onto the floor and shattered.

Boss walked to the picture frame and lifted it. In there was a photograph of a smiling filly next to... She couldn’t make it out. The picture had faded.

“Spooky,” said Fixit. “It’s like a museum in here. ‘cept one of those boring ones they have over by landmarks that nopony actually visits. Like lighthouses.”

Boss moved to the bookcase and ran her hoof over the contents. The spines had fallen off, worn from use or rot, illegible from the passage of time. She dared not remove one, lest it crumble into dust. Sighing, she allowed herself to recline on the grody old sofa. It’d been a fairly long trek up the side of the canyon, and the inside of a house seemed as good a place to catch a breather as any. As she unscrewed the cap from her trusty Stable 51 canteen, she wondered how long it’d last.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Fixit. “Does it look inhabitable?”

“We haven’t choked to death yet,” said Boss, shrugging. “We could carve out an existence here in the gorge, maybe.”

“So that’s it, then?” asked Fixit.

“Hey!” called Staunch. Boss and Fixit looked up as he emerged from the hallway, beaming fit to burst his face. “Looks like they didn’t clean out the fridge!”

“Please don’t elaborate,” Boss groaned. But then Staunch floated two bottles in front of him. Boss narrowed her eyes. “Is that...”

Staunch trotted up to them, bringing the bottles closer. Moonbeam Cream Soda.

“You bet it is,” Staunch said.

“No way,” Boss said, grabbing one of them. “I used to love this stuff as a filly.”

“Until we ran out,” said Fixit.

“My fault, actually,” said Boss. “When I became Overmare, there was just one left. I...” she laughed, leaning back. “The first thing I did was drink the last one.” She looked at the design on the bottle, displaying the Mare in the Moon, and smiled. “Crazy,” she said. “Running into this after all this time.”

“Well,” said Staunch, holding up his bottle “why not pack one of them, and pop this one open to celebrate?”

“I’d be up for that,” said Fixit.

Boss nodded, and there was a high-pitched hissing noise as Staunch twisted the cap off. He passed the bottle to her, tossing the bottle cap to the floor with a clink. Boss took the first sip, closing her eyes and savoring the vanilla taste she hadn’t had in years.

Afterwards, she passed the bottle to Fixit, who took a drink for himself, before passing back to Staunch. Boss, however, turned her attention to the...

“Bottle caps,” she said.

“Sorry?” asked Fixit.

“Emerald had bottle caps with him when he walked into the stable,” said Boss. “He had a shotgun, bandages—survival stuff that you’d expect, and that diamond, but...” She shook her head. “Why would a pony have bottle caps?”

“Maybe he collected them?” Staunch suggested. The other two looked at him with dubious expressions. “I dunno. I mean, when I was a foal I liked to collect knick-knacks. Like I’d keep my toys in their boxes when I wasn’t playing with them.”

“Hmm,” mused Boss. She got up from the sofa and bent down to examine the bottle cap. “Maybe. Seems a strange thing to hold onto in his condition. In any case, we should save the bottle and the cap. They might be useful.” She looked at her canteen. “We could store more water in these when the soda runs out. For now...” She looked at the window. They were in the dark of night now, the dark grey clouds faded to black. Soon, only the lights from their PipBucks illuminated the house. “We should stay here. Tomorrow we can decide whether to venture onward or return to the stable.” She leaned back, smirking. “I get the couch.”

“Hellooo.”

Boss hadn’t turned the radio on her PipBuck off, and in what hoped was merely the early morning was treated to a stallion’s voice. It was certainly a nice voice. In a way it almost made her sleep easier.

“If you’re ever in Oasis and feeling sore, or lonely, or just want some fun, just stop in and see Sugar Daddy. That’s me. I offer a variety of services, including massages...”

Then the voice stopped. Boss opened one eye and looked at her PipBuck suspiciously.

“Um...” the voice continued. “I’ve got a very nice butt...”

Boss sat up. The early morning’s light in the windows was dim, and her companions were still asleep.

“Give me that!” she heard a muffled voice say, before it continued. “That’s right, ponies. Come to Oasis and meet Sugar Daddy! Mares, stallions, aaaall are welcome! Reasonable prices for a wonderful time you won’t forget or regret. Sugar Daddy: he’s got the touch!”

Yesterday: a pony walked into stable 51 with something he died to keep safe. Today: Boss was in an abandoned house listening to a radio advertisement for... for...

She shook her head as another message came on.

“Gooooooooood morning!” the Voice of Truth chimed. “And now for a travel advisory: Stay away from Galloping Gorge.”

Boss froze.

“Apparently there’ve been raiders spotted in the area. And I’m not talking Bang Gangers. I’m talking Tox. You know... Tox. So unless you have a very compelling twelve-step program to offer, which you don’t because those are shit, you should just stay away. That’s all for now!”

The radio clicked off. Boss looked to her security officers. Staunch was lying down in the corner, while Fixit had propped himself up against the wall and the bookcase. “Boys?” she asked. “Boys!” The guards stirred as they woke up. “Time to get up. We might have a problem.”

“Whadizzit?” Staunch slurred.

“Voice on the radio says we might have company, and I didn’t put any twelve-step programs on my PipBuck.”

“Huh?” asked Fixit.

Boss shook her head. “We got to move.”

There was a soft thud, like the sound of a knife hitting a cutting board.

“Moooooove?” crooned a soft, high voice. A pony stepped out of the doorway—a unicorn stallion, pale and wide-eyed. He looked at the group with a tilted head. “Where are we going, I wonder?”

Boss saw a little red tick her Eyes-Forward Sparkle. Bad sign. She looked at the unicorn, her eyes drawn to his front legs, dotted up and down with sickly red marks. Staunch’s horn glowed, but the new unicorn stepped towards, drawing a knife.

“Careful!” he said. “Guns, guns guns guns guns guns guns guns...” he muttered. “Don’t take out any guns. It’s my house, and I set a no guns rule in my house.” The knife floated by his ear, spinning. “No guns. Any of you draws a gun, heheh...” The knife floated by his throat in a slow slitting motion.

“Don’t try anything funny,” Boss hissed to Staunch.

“It’s three against one,” whispered Staunch, “we can take him.”

“Take me?” asked the unicorn. “Maybe maybe... Maybe I take one of you.” He pointed his knife at each of them. “I’m very good with this... One little gun moves and I think I could have this knife in your throat first. Very fast. Very, very fast...” He pointed at her. “You in charge, yes? One gun moves and the knife...” The knife whipped in front of his face faster than she could blink... “Is in your throat.”

Boss looked to her partners, as if to say “don’t do anything stupid.” True, the three of them could easily take him down, but that’d be a small comfort to her if she ended up dead as a result. She did, however, notice that apart from that one knife, the raider appeared to have nothing. She looked back at the unicorn, and past him to the other end of the room, and she got an idea.

“So... Good with the knife, huh?”

The unicorn smiled, the blade before his face. Boss need not have asked for her own information—his cutie mark was a knife, dripping with a green liquid. Poison, she figured. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, licking the edge. A cut opened on his tongue and the blood dripped down the knife and onto the floor. Boss wasn’t a squeamish pony, but she squirmed at the sight. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see her comrades making similar unsettled displays.

“Very good...” he whispered.

“For the record, I vote for staying in the stable,” muttered Fixit.

“I’ll bet you’re not that good,” said Boss. The stranger’s smile dropped, and his wide eyes narrowed into a scowl as he peered at her. “I’ll bet you can’t hit that knothole,” she said, pointing at a darkened circle in the wall down the hall.

He looked over his shoulder at the target in question, and then back at Boss. “Easy.”

“Take five steps away from it,” said Boss. “If you can hit that I’ll be impressed.”

The pony smirked and turned around. He took five steps back, and then in a flash his knife was embedded in the knothole. And not on his person.

In an instant Staunch had his gun drawn and had tackled him to the floor. The mad pony shrieked as the security guard pressed a gun to his head. Fixit, meanwhile, ran over to the knife and yanked it out of the wall, dropping it to the floor and putting his hoof on the flat edge.

“You tricky liar!” he hissed.

“No,” said Boss, sauntering past him. She stopped in front of the knothole and examined the clear cut in the middle, right where the knife had gone in. “I am actually impressed. Now, I get to ask questions. Question one, you one of the Tox?”

Despite his predicament, the captive was still smiling and wide-eyed. “Tick-Tox,” he giggled. “Like clocks.”

“He’s got syringe marks all over his legs,” said Fixit. “He’s been sticking himself with Goddess-only-knows-what.”

“My house now,” said Boss. “And new rule—no batshit talk. Question two: how many of you are there? And for that matter, how many here?”

The raider giggled. “Birds of a feather... don’t always flock together, but we fly, oh, we fly.”

“Rule broken, but good idea,” said Boss. “Staunch, throw him into the gorge.”

He giggled like a maniac all the way to the bottom. At least, Boss assumed that. Eventually the raider’s voice trailed off, and not only could she not hear him, but she couldn’t see him. She imagined there was a brand new red smear on the floor of the gorge.

“We just murdered a dude,” said Fixit.

“No,” Boss corrected. “Staunch threw him off of a cliff. You didn’t do anything.”

Fixit looked like he was going to follow up on that, but at a glance from Staunch he changed the subject. “Well,” he said, a little more fidgety than he had been before. “The air doesn’t choke you to death after five minutes. Is that all we needed?”

Clearly the wasteland outside was livable, Boss understood. But their immediate neighbors did not appear to be friendly ones.

“More or less,” she said.

“Alright,” said Fixit. “Well, I vote we head back to the stable.”

“What?” asked Staunch.

“Well, given that the ponies out here appear to be completely out of their minds...”

“That won’t do,” said Boss. The others fell silent as she turned to face them. “Everyone in the stable has probably figured out that leaving the stable isn’t immediate suicide. More than that, we already have folks like Rocker who want to move out, and this is just going to give them more incentive to get louder.” She narrowed her eyes. “There’s going to be a schism if we try to stay shut in.”

The two looked at her silently, as though afraid to speak up. Then, after a pause, Staunch cleared his throat.

“What next, Boss?” he asked.

“We find a settlement,” she said. “See if we can secure some kind of relationship. Maybe we open up trade, maybe we get someone to help us start our own town here by the gorge. We get more information, and then we can make a plan for integrating. While we’re at it, we also try to find something out about that diamond. Or failing all that, we have a very good reason for staying inside.”

“I guess psycho-ponies with knives isn’t a good enough reason,” mumbled Fixit. “So then, what direction do we head in?”

Boss raised her hoof to view the map on her PipBuck. Luckily for her, the Eyes-Forward Sparkle came with its own built-in compass. Unfortunately, the map didn’t have any worthwhile markers on it. However, Boss could reasonably assume it’d be best to veer somewhere other than the north—the frozen wastes up there were unlikely to welcome the stable dwellers, as unused to the elements as they were.

“We should head west, towards the coast,” said Boss. “We should veer towards Vanhoover. That was a large port city—if there are ponies living anywhere, they’ll be there. First order of business if we find anyone, though, should be to get a more current map.”

The others nodded in agreement. She expected that much from Staunch the yes-stallion, but Fixit’s tacit approval interested her more. However, their plans were interrupted by a noise from inside the house.

“Stinger?” called a mare’s voice. “Stiiiiinger?”

“What?” asked Staunch.

“I think...” Fixit pointed over the edge of the gorge. “That his friends have arrived.”

Boss motioned for them to follow her as she approached the house. She walked slowly, her knees bent and her head held low.

She knew that these ponies were dangerous, and if they were going to leave the stable, there could be trouble. Even if they didn’t leave the stable, how long would it be before these “Tox” came knocking at the stable door?

“Dude,” said a stallion’s voice. “He must’ve, like, skipped or something. Maybe he passed out.”

“Stinger?” repeated the mare’s voice.

Boss quietly poked her head up to look through the broken window. There was one pony inside; a short stallion, slumped on the couch, all four of his hooves working their way around what appeared to be a giant bong.

“Where is he?” growled the mare’s voice as she stepped into view. She was tall, lanky, and a shotgun floated by her side, coated in the same pale blue aura as her horn. “He was supposed to be here.”

“Hey, I dunno,” said the stallion, before he put his mouth to the bong and took a deep breath from it. After what must’ve been a full five seconds, he lowered the bong and leaned back against the couch, smoke billowing from his mouth as he sat there with a dopey, satisfied grin.

“You blow that thing like a cock.”

“Then, well, color me fucking faggy,” he said, followed by a giggle.

Boss couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. These “Tox” were... a gang of stoners?

“Hey,” said the stallion. “Hey, pony in the window. Cool...” Boss started as the mare turned her attention on them. Boss’s mind raced and she said the only thing that came to mind.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” said the stallion. “You seen our friend Stinger? He was, like, supposed to meet us here and now we’re here and it’s like he’s totally late.”

Clearly the stoner wasn’t a threat. His friend with a shotgun, however, was more concerning. She eyed Boss suspiciously, the shotgun bobbing by her side. Her movements were slow, deliberate... the ever-present awareness that seems to accompany paranoia was painted on her face. Boss had a pretty good idea of who Stinger was, and faced with the stallion’s question she had no choice but to answer honestly.

“He went to get some air.”

“Aw, right, dude,” he said, before returning to his bong. The mare, however, appeared unsatisfied.

“I don’t think I know you,” she said, peering at the window.

“Oh, I’m from here,” said Boss, her eyes carefully following the shotgun, which was rising to an uncomfortable level...

Then she heard a dull clicking sound, and something flew past her ear. Before she heard Staunch shout “Get down!”, she saw the grenade hit the floor. Both of the raiders stared at it, wide-eyed, and Boss could have sworn in the instant she ducked behind the wall that she saw the pony on the couch move to shield his bong.

As the explosion blew off behind her, the loud blast sent her ears ringing. All three of them threw their hooves over their ears, and she glared at Staunch.

“You brought a frag grenade?” asked Fixit.

“I brought two.”

“Woo! My bong is safe!” shouted the voice inside, with a distinct tone of relief.

Boss poked her head over the window again. The room was now full of floating dust, but as it settled she could make out the two ponies inside. The mare was dead, and looking about as good as a pony could expect to look after taking that much shrapnel, that close. The stallion, however, seemed miraculously alive... though not for much longer, Boss thought. He was bleeding profusely, yet seemed completely unconcerned as he went back to smoking his bong.

“So, any more of you?” asked Boss.

“Nah,” said the bong pony. “Just me and Chem and Stinger. You said he was going for some air?”

“Yeah,” said Boss.

“Then it’s just me,” he said, looking at the bloody mess on the floor.

“You, uh...” Boss said. “You okay there?”

The raider gave a laugh that sounded almost like a fart. “Aw, dude, I’m so high I don’t feel a thing.”

“I see...” Boss was about to turn away, when she remembered another question. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to give us directions to Oasis, would you?”

He snorted derisively. “Dude, there ain’t anything in Oasis except... sheet metal and stuff. And a well.”

“Directions, please.”

He shrugged and waved a hoof in a direction vaguely southwest. “Over there, I think.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning back to her companions. “Let’s leave him to bleed to death in peace.”

“Hey, everyone. The Voice of Truth here, and I’ve been thinking: You know, before the war, we had this very nice matriarchal society.”

Boss listened to the continuing broadcasts on her PipBuck. She quickly realized that the Voice of Truth was one that certainly liked to talk a lot.

“Ponies got along, for the most part. We didn’t have widespread crime or poverty or any of that nasty stuff. Sure, you’d occasionally have a guy who was a massive jackass, but that was about it. But now in the Wasteland, the system, if you can call it that, is very patriarchal. To put it simply: guns are dicks. Everyone wants to have the gun that’s bigger and better than everyone else’s gun. And so the entire struggle for survival out here is one big dick-waving contest. And if you have a sawed-off shotgun, that means you’re circumcised.”

The gorge had shrunk behind them, leaving a massive expanse of dirt and rocks ahead. The current plan was to take the stoner’s direction and look for Oasis, or whatever town came along the way.

“And now for the weather. Still cloudy. Probably gonna be overcast for the rest of the week, with slight rainfall whenever the Enclave feels like it.”

Annoying asshole, thought Boss, turning the dial on her PipBuck. Let’s try a different station.

“Hello, Wasteland, you know that old saying ‘No news is good news?’” asked the voice of yet another stallion. “Well, whoever said that was lying, because you won’t believe how good this news is: Red Eye is now more of a ‘Dead’ Eye. But that’s not all—it turns out that Colonel Autumn Leaf is dead, too! Guess that’s two uuuuugly birds with one stone. And we all know who to thank for that! You guessed it, the Stable Dweller! The good fight just got better.”

“Seriously, though,” said Fixit, “why did you bring grenades?”

“We’ve had those things sitting in the armory for two hundred years,” said Staunch. “We weren’t using them in there, and I thought, well, why not?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Now with due apologies to my regular listeners, I have to give a big warm welcome to all my new listeners up northwest! If you’ve never heard me before, I’m DJ Pon-3, speaking to you lovely ponies via connection from Vanhoover Tower! I can thank the Stable Dweller for that, too. And I’m here to bring you all the important news! And the best tunes from my collection! And I’ll tell you, DJ Pon-3 doesn’t just have pre-war classics, but we have new, original works by our very own Velvet Remedy!”

“Music I haven’t heard before,” said Fixit, as the song started playing. “Nice!”

“What is it?” asked Staunch, who wasn’t following the radio broadcasts. “You two picking something up?”

“Two similarly unfunny ham radio operators,” said Boss, turning her PipBuck off.

“Sounds better than...” Fixit looked back over his shoulder. “Them...” He didn’t need to elaborate, and Boss had to concede to his point. Annoying radioheads were preferable to drugged-up crazies any day of the week.

A low rumble sounded up above. Fixit looked up quizzically.

“Huh,” he said. “Sounds like the pegasi are still at it.” He scanned the skies. “Still got tons of clouds.”

“Maybe they didn’t get it as bad as the ground?” suggested Staunch.

“Maybe,” said Boss. “We’ll have to ask someone. Someone who isn’t crazy or high.”

However, even amidst the cheery music over the PipBuck radios, an ominous rumble sounded from overhead.

“Figures with the perpetual overcast,” mumbled Fixit. “Two hundred years after the world blows up, and the pegasi are still doing clouds.”
“Heh,” said Staunch. “Gonna make it rain.”

Boss rolled her eyes and looked over the barren landscape of dirt and rocks. “Yes,” she said, “make it rain, with nothing to actually grow.” She grunted. “Come on, let’s find a cave or something.”

The closest they could find was a rock jutting out over the ground, leaving a covered portion of dirt below it. Had the excessive clouds not made it completely redundant, it might have been a welcome source of shade.

She laid out a very simple campfire setting, but didn’t light it until it got darker. Soon, the rumbling in the skies increased, and it was only a few minutes before the rain began pouring down, hammering on their rocky cover.

She spotted a new broadcast signal on the PipBuck, however, and turned to it. Enclave Radio, it said.

“Good evening, good ponies of the Wasteland. I am General Winter, of the Enclave, your protectors, your guardians. I have heard words from some of you that you do not believe us to be who, or rather, what we say we are. That we are regarded as mere braggarts or bullies. This is slander, but... you are entitled, to an extent. After two hundred years I can understand if you do not trust us, after we have stayed up in the clouds. But for no longer! Now, what the Enclave has, it gives to you. Behold!”

There was a crash of thunder.

“Rain. No living thing can survive without water. And this gift, good ponies, we give to you. Water, given freely and in the utmost of goodwill. We ask for nothing in return. Only that you, good ponies, remember who it is who gave you this gift. We are the Enclave. We stand strong when we stand together.”

Fixit had opened his pack and was sorting and counting all of its contents. In the two days they had used up the predictable amount of food and water. Producing a funnel and sticking it into his own canteen, he got up and trotted into the rain, setting it down to catch the water.

“Boss?” asked Staunch.

“Huh?” she responded. “What is it?”

“Earlier you asked me to throw a guy off a cliff.”

Boss peered at him. “Yeah? And?”

“You don’t think that might’ve been, well...” He shrugged. “A bit much?”

“And tossing a frag grenade at the others wasn’t?”

“I dunno,” he said. “I mean, one of them had a gun and looked like she was gonna use it, and since we’d already dropped off the other guy I figured ‘better safe than sorry.’ But the other guy, we had him incapacitated. Granted the guy was nuts.” He pulled the second grenade out of his back. “Shit, these things are loud.”

Boss looked him over, her face expressionless. “Yes, explosions are loud. This surprises you after all this time on the shooting range?”

“Well,” said Staunch. “It’s not a gun. And those other times I had earmuffs.”

Boss sighed. “Staunch, give me the grenade.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want you blowing us or our ears up,” she explained. “Come on.”

Staunch passed the grenade over to her as the Voice of Truth chimed in her earbuds.

“Times like this I have to wonder if Oasis’s economy doesn’t slow to a crawl whenever the Enclave decides to send some rain down. It’s like, the only thing your ramshackle pile of tin that passes for a settlement has going for it is that you’ve got a well. You know, maybe you should choose a hero to embark on a quest to bring back a palm tree or something. That’ll pretty up the place a bit.”

“In other news, oh boy oh boy, all hell’s broken loose in the southeast. Red Eye’s dead, the Enclave’s shitting themselves, and the Steel Rangers, fuck if I know what’s going on there. I’d ask our very own Elder Cannon for comment, but I think he’d probably just try to take my stuff.”

“In more local news, Vanhoover has pretty much just blacked out. I guess they’re in a panic now. Anyway, I’d suggest staying away from them as they’re liable to shoot anyone who looks at them the wrong way. You know, I just thought of something funny. The other day I was looking at a dump I took and I—” CLICK!

Boss turned off the PipBuck radio in time to see Fixit come back with one of the canteens full, and about to pick up another one to put out in the rain.

“So they seem to still have the weather working,” he said when he got back to the campfire.

“Noted,” said Boss, looking at him with a droll, narrow-eyed expression.

The thunder crashed again as the water pelted harder on the rock roof above them. Boss sighed and stared at the stony ceiling.

“You know, we were actually supposed to leave that stable a long, long time ago,” she said, muttering as though she were half talking to herself. “But the Overmare back then, she thought she knew better. The ponies were too dumb to put that knowledge to good use. So she decided to wait. And so we waited, and waited, and waited. Generations of ponies born and raised with the library, until we can hone that perfect generation of educated ponies who will go out and rebuild the world...” She took a deep breath. “Never really got around to that.”

The others remained silent for a moment as the fire flickered and finally died.

BANG! BANG!

Boss awoke with a start in the dead of the night. Everything was dark, and save for the gunshots, they were in utter silence.

“What happened?” she asked.

“This... this thing,” said Staunch. Boss flicked on her PipBuck light, illuminating him with a gun floating in front of him. At his hooves was the crumpled carcass of a huge scorpion the size of a dog.

“A scorpion?” asked Fixit, adjusting his glasses. “I thought they didn’t get that big.”

“They do now,” said Boss, walking over to it. She knelt down, examining it. “Shit...”

“Well, it’s dead now,” said Staunch. “Nothing gets past Staunch’s watch.”

Boss shoved the dead scorpion’s carcass away from her before checking her PipBuck’s clock. 2 AM. 2 AM and now she was wide-awake.

“Good job,” she said. “You were awake on watch?”

“Er...” said Staunch. “Sort of.”

“You go to sleep,” she said. “I’ll take over.”

Staunch and Fixit slowly went back to sleep while Boss took over, sitting by the edge of their little half-cave. The rain had stopped—the Enclave, generous as they were, seemed only willing to spare so much water.

She turned the radio back on. The Voice of Truth’s signal, to her surprise, was still on, though it was only broadcasting music at the moment.

She stepped out under the sky and looked up, only to be disappointed by the mass of grey and black. The clouds were still there. As a younger filly she’d often wanted to look at the sky, to see the sun and moon and stars. The seemingly perpetual overcast she could bear, but she would have liked to see stars.

“Ugh...” said the Voice of Truth. “Ever have that feeling when you wake up in the middle of the night and go ‘wow, I really need to take a piss’? I think we all have. Also, update on this morning’s travel advisory, I seem to have local lingo mixed up, but for future reference, when I say ‘stay away’ from somewhere, I generally mean, well... ‘stay away,’ as opposed to ‘head on over and murder everyone there.’ Just to clarify, y’know? Oh, who the fuck cares?” There was a pause of silence. “Fuck, who’s even listening to me at this time?”

“Anyway, as long as I’m on here tonight I guess I’ll just talk. Maybe some of you have insomnia. Or you’re worried someone will murder you in your sleep or something. Here, I’ll tell you a bedtime story: Once upon a time there was a big city. It was the most wonderful place in the world. Everypony was happy and everypony got along. It was a nice place. A beautiful place, even. A bright, shining beacon that ran on love and joy.

“But it didn’t stay that way for long. Ponies started to bring things into the city. First they brought knives. Then they brought guns. Then they brought bombs. Worst of all, they brought hate. And the city began to shine a little less bright. It dimmed. Then it decayed. Then it broke out in violent boils all over. And the shining city rotted and died in a burst of violence. The beacon was gone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you wanted a happy ending? Well fuck you. This isn’t that kind of story.”

And thus Boss’s suspicions that the Voice of Truth was an asshole were confirmed. She turned the radio off. If there were more of those scorpions out and about, she didn’t want to miss them because she was listening to the inane ramblings of a sanctimonious turd.

She took the magazine out of her pistol and inspected it. A full round, twelve shots. She stuck it back in, satisfied that she wouldn’t run out by mistake.

The wasteland around her was silent as the dead. Just like she’d expect from a dead world.

There was no sunrise to speak of. The clouds overhead let only dim filtered light through. A loud yawn signaled that Fixit had awoken.

“Oh, no...” he said.

“What is it?” asked Boss, looking back at him.

“I forgot to water my desk plants before we left,” he said.

“Your ‘desk plants’?”

“It’s a hobby.”

Boss shook her head. “Well, let’s get going before a giant cat eats us.” She looked over at Staunch, who hadn’t gotten up. “Hey, Staunch, hear that? Time to get up.”

He didn’t move.

“...Staunch?” She slowly approached him. She could see that he was alive, but his breathing was shallow and quiet. She lightly prodded him. He groaned weakly and rolled onto his back. His normally charcoal-grey face had paled considerably, and his mouth lay open, his breath staggered.

“Oh Celestia...” said Fixit. “His leg.”

Boss looked at his hind leg. It had grown discolored, and a wound had festered.

“What... the scorpion!” Her head whipped around to the dried husk that had attacked them the night before. “It stung you? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Staunch frowned, his expression one of defeat. “I...” he whispered sadly, “I didn’t think it was important...”

“Hold on...” Boss said, opening their pack. Her hooves fished through it and removed a first aid kit. Opening it, she frantically searched through the contents: bandages, extra healing potions...

“Do we have...” Fixit said, “Antivenom or something?”

“Antivenom yes, but not the right antivenom.”

“Huh?” Fixit sputtered, his voice breaking. “What do you mean ‘not the right antivenom’?”

“I mean that every poisonous thing has different venom, and you need a different antivenom based on it in order to treat it. As it is...” She looked balefully at a syringe in the kit. “We can treat a bite from a garden-variety pit viper that was common in this place before the war.”

“Well that’s just great!” Fixit shrieked. “We’re out here unprepared!”

Boss turned around, her brow furrowed. “Well, pardon me for not putting ‘giant fucking scorpion’ on our list of contingencies. Now help me think of something!”

“Think of something? What?!”

Fixit’s head twitched as his breathing accelerated to near-hyperventilation. Boss then looked to the scorpion.

“Cut off the its poison gland,” said Boss.

“Huh?” Fixit asked.

“Fucking do it!”

Fixit hobbled over to the arachnid’s corpse, nearly tripping over himself, and examined the stinger. He took a knife out and set about cutting off the end of the beast’s tail, while Boss stared intently at Staunch, almost as though she were trying to will him to stay alive.

“I’m not ruining this,” she muttered.

“Not your fault,” said Staunch. “I just... thought I was made of stronger stuff...”

“Got it!” shouted Fixit, gingerly holding the pointy part of the stinger in his teeth. “Now what?”

“Now what?” Boss repeated, staring at him. “Now we make an anti-venom!”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know!” Boss snapped. “I brought you along because you were supposed to be smart!”

“I’M JUST A MECHANIC!”

They both fell silent, leaving Staunch’s labored breathing as the only sound.

But as she looked at the dead husk, she realized it wouldn’t work. “It...” She ran over to their own first-aid kid and threw it open. But its supplies were woefully inadequate, containing only a paltry amount of nigh-useless anti-venom and a tourniquet that was far too late to apply. “No...” She fumbled through the supplies, but nothing came up of use. A blood pack. Some syringes and drugs. And then, in one burst of pent-up frustration, she screamed, tossing the first aid kit aside and scattering its contents, before wheeling back on Staunch. “You... you... Why couldn’t you just... just...”

Staunch took a deep breath. “Could I... could I just have some water?”

Fixit looked at her, unsure of what to do. Boss looked down at the canteens. They had water, but... if he was dying, wouldn’t it be a waste? Boss simply nodded, and Fixit walked up to him, canteen around his neck, and tipped the water into his open mouth. He seemed to take forever to swallow, as though it took all his strength.

“Thanks,” Staunch said weakly, his once-powerful voice barely a whisper now.

Boss stood there, for how long nopony could really say. She just looked down and watched helplessly at her faithful guard as he faintly looked up at her. Then, Staunch took his final breaths, and died.

They buried him under a small mound of rocks. It didn’t take very long—rocks were a resource they had in abundance. They stood there at their shallow, makeshift grave, silently paying an impromptu respect.

“Goodbye, Staunch,” sad Boss. “You never faltered.” She turned to Fixit. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Fixit nodded and gathered up the supplies before solemnly walking off, and Boss gave the little grave one last, sad look.

They proceeded through the barren wasteland, their number one less. Boss was silent and surly, and Fixit didn’t dare to speak up. The land was the same all over, riddled with rocks. Though here it seemed the stones rose around them, as though there were navigating a labyrinth formed of the fragments of a broken world. The air was grey and cold, the persistent curse of the monochrome clouds.

She sat down upon a rock and raised her canteen to her mouth, drinking the water. Somehow it tasted bitter to her.

“Oh, what a beautiful day,” she said. “Wake up and no, we don’t get breakfast, we get something dead.”

“Well...” said Fixit, finding enough courage to say anything at all. “At least he died serving the stable.”

“No, he died being stung by a scorpion!” Boss snapped. Her voice rose and her nostrils flared. “Him dying didn’t do a damn bit of good for the stable!” She fumed, slamming her canteen down on the rock. “Now we’ve lost our best security guard, probably the most physically fit in the stable... and all that physical fitness didn’t do a damn thing against a, a bug bite...” She took another swill of her water. “Won’t that be great news to tell the stable when we get back? Lost the head of security to a scorpion. All because the Overmare wanted to go on a hike...” Her voice dropped to a mumble, as though she had stopped talking to him and started talking to herself. “And now he’s dead and we have nothing to show for it.”

“Well...” said Fixit. “I guess we just agreed to take that risk when we came out here.”

She looked up at him. “Yeah... I guess we did,” she admitted, “there was no way I could’ve made an antivenom. Just... that was just a stupid idea and it was all I had to go on.”

“Besides, we are out here for a reason. Scouting out, making sure the stable can safely integrate...”

Boss nodded silently. “Well...” she said, “we should probably get going, before—”

There was a thwip sound, and it seemed as though two bright-red feathers had sprouted from Fixit’s neck.

“Fixit!” she shouted. Fixit put a hoof to the feathers and yanked them out with a grunt. A dart. “Shit!” She jumped behind the giant rock as a second dart shattered against the rock.

She pulled out her gun, panting.

“You’re fucking dead!” shouted a voice. “Teach you to mess with us!”

More Tox, she thought. Fixit stumbled in behind her.

“There’s something on that dart,” he said. “Someth...” Was all he managed to utter before he collapsed.

“Come on oooout, big girl!” called the sing-songy voice of a Tox. It was high, thin, and just a little flat. She hated it. “Can’t hide for long, big girl! You’re too big!”

Boss looked to the holster on her forehoof. She bit down on the handle and yanked it out, raising a hoof to fumble with it. Come on, safety, safety...

Click. There it was.

She heard hoofsteps coming in her direction. She hadn’t gotten a good look at them... how many were there?

“Can’t hide for long!” called a voice. “We’ll find you!”

“Big girl, big girl...”

She ducked behind another one of the rocks. There was one thing that was true about their taunts - she wasn’t exactly built for hiding. But, to her advantage, there were lots of rocks around. There are two of them...

“Poison snakes can see your blood...” hissed a third voice. “Can’t hide from poison snakes...”

Boss ducked down behind one of them. Little red blips flashed before her eyes on the EFS. And she smirked. She aligned herself so that, while she didn’t have a clear line of sight, she could watch one of the red blips before her, moving slowly to the right.

What’s that about poison snakes? she thought to herself, creeping past the left of the rock. She poked her head out, and saw one of them, an earth pony with a shotgun strapped to his side, skulking past, completely unaware, though wide-eyed and crazed. See your blood... right.

BANG BANG BANG!

The raider was perforated with two shots through the neck and one through his temple, the hollow-point bullets shredding his skin.

“Bang bang?” said one of the other voices. “Hey! That’s not our bang bang!”

Shit, thought Boss, ducking behind the rock again. She could hear hoofsteps hitting the ground. There was no time to reload, she had to keep moving...

And that’s when she heard the sounds of blades chopping the air. She looked up over the rocks and saw flying over towards them a massive flying contraption, its crazed pilot howling in the wind and floating a submachine gun next to herself in a sickly-green aura.

Okay, thought Boss. I am going to die.

She considered her stock. There were three raiders on the ground (one of them now dead) plus a fourth up in the whirlygig... She’d heard what those were called, but she couldn’t recall... She’d fired three shots, lowering her current magazine to nine. She had two more magazines: one for herself she’d packed as a spare and the one in Staunch’s gun. The other spare magazine was with Fixit... She tried to remember, how many shots were left in Staunch’s gun...

The flying machine flew overhead, spraying a haphazard stream of bullets over the rocks. Boss ducked beneath a small overhang, trying to avoid the raider’s line of sight. She looked at her own gun, and then at the one she’d taken from Staunch.

He fired two shots... she thought. Leaves ten... unless he reloaded...

“Aw, shit...”

She heard one of the raiders’ voices. Venturing a look out of the rock, she saw two of them standing around the corpse of their fallen comrade.

Then she remembered the grenade.

“All that blood...” said one of them. “Think that’ll ruin the stuff?”

“Naw, dude,” said the second, “just wipe it off.”

Boss might have said a pithy one-liner. But she was treading on thin ice as it was and didn’t want to risk it. So she simply pulled the pin out and threw the grenade over to them.

As the shrapnel ripped through the raiders, Boss suspected that nopony, raider or not, would want to wipe off the “stuff.”

Three down...

“Big worms can’t hide from little birds!” screeched the mare in the whirlygig.

Griffin chaser! she thought. That’s what they were called!

Then she had to duck to avoid the spray of bullets coming from the mare’s submachine gun. Boss returned fire, emptying her nine-bullet magazine into what seemed to be nothing more than empty air. She watched as the raider mare ejected the clip from her gun, floating another one out to take its place. With no time to reload her own, she took Staunch’s gun and fired.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She counted the shots... Ten, eleven, twelve. He had reloaded.

Reliable Staunch... she thought, ducking back under the rock in time to avoid another shot. However, an irritated screech from the raider told her that one of her bullets had left a mark.

“Big worm has a little bite, huh?” the voice shouted. “Bite’s too little!”

“Crazy has a point...” Boss mumbled. She ejected the magazine. She could reload it and keep shooting, but unless she got really lucky, it wouldn’t amount to much. She could hit the griffin chaser, of course, but the bullets wouldn’t bring it down, unless...

She searched her bag. Armor-piercing bullets!

“Come on out, big worm!” cried the voice from outside.

“In a minute, you crazy bitch!” Boss called back, fitting the armor-piercing rounds into the magazine. Click. “I’m all set!”

She stepped out, gun in mouth, and before the crazy bitch could fire, her mind melded into SATS. She fired every single round she had into the griffin chaser. Most of them did nothing but strike the air or non-important parts of it. But one bullet ripped through the bicycle chain, and the raider was soon pedalling to the benefit of nothing. The propeller slowed and the machine careened down into the ground, before crashing.

Boss emerged from her hiding place, checking the chamber of her gun. No bullets left. She ejected the magazine and replaced the bullets, hoping she wouldn’t have to deal with any more crazies. Still, wary, she approached the mangled remains of the other three. Through the blood and guts, she managed to make out their weapons - there was a hunting rifle, a shotgun, and something stranger strapped to what had been the foreleg. She leaned down and yanked the device off of the leg, inspecting it. It was a sort of crossbow, loaded with a dart, intended to be strapped to the foreleg and operated via a bit.

This was what they’d shot Fixit with. He’d gone down quickly after he’d be shot with it. Hopefully it wasn’t fatal...

Ignoring the blood and gore, she couldn’t resist the temptation to slip it onto her right foreleg. Gritting her teeth as she tightened the fastenings, she couldn’t help but think, this is cool.

“WOOOOOO-EEE!” shrieked the other voice. Boss jumped, turning around in time to see the final raider approaching. Somehow she was full of energy and ready to fight, despite the crash and what Boss could have sworn was a broken leg. “That was a great fall!” She floated the SMG in front of her menacingly. “Makes up for the lousy summer.”

Boss wasted no time. She raised her hoof, tossing the bit into her mouth, and grunted, “Go to sleep for the winter.” She clamped down on the bit, tasting the iron in the blood, and watched as the dart flew from the weapon and embedded itself in the raider’s chest.

The raider looked down in surprise and stared at it. She stood there for a while, and then Boss realized...

“Ow,” said the raider, looking back at her. “That stings.”

“You’re not out...” said Boss. “I saw that thing take out my friend.”

The raider giggled. “Ah, big worm, but we’ve taken the poison...” Her gun floated before her. “It can’t hurt us...”

Boss grabbed her gun and unloaded the magazine into the raider. She stumbled back, screaming in pain as they went through her chest. One of them struck her horn and the submachine gun clattered to the ground.

“You fucking bitch!” screamed the raider, clutching her bleeding horn. Her eyes flared as she advanced on Boss, as though prepared to rip her apart with her bare hooves. “I’m gonna fuck you up so bad, you’ll...”

Boss didn’t get a chance to hear exactly how bad the raider was going to fuck her up. She jumped for the shotgun on the ground, sitting on her rear and trying to handle it with her hooves, and fired one blast right into the raider’s head, blowing it messily in half. The raider dropped dead, leaving Boss to sit in a pile of gore, heaving with breath.

After what must have been several minutes of stupefied silence, Boss got to her hooves. She strapped the shotgun to her back. She didn’t feel like searching through the guts for whatever else might be valuable.

She trudged back to where Fixit lay, bizarrely undefiled, and leaned down to him, feeling his neck with her bloodied hoof. No pulse. Sure enough, whatever had been in the dart had killed him, yet it hadn’t killed the raider.

Well, she thought, at least it killed him quickly. It was a rather morbid thought to take solace in, she realized.

And then, feeling she needed one hell of a breather, Boss sat down and slumped against the rock.

Boss didn’t know how long she sat there. It felt like hours, or maybe that was just because of the radio.

“Goooooood news, everypony! Our wonderful Lightbringer’s bringing all kinds of ponies together! Steelhooves might be dead, but his rangers are still standing strong, and with Gawdyna Grimfeathers, well, hehe... Enclave? Slavers? Better watch your asses.”

“Yeah,” Boss intoned, not caring. “Gonna kick ‘em. Kick ‘em hard.”

The gracious host then moved to play a song, an original, as he claimed. Boss sat and listened as the most gorgeous mezzo-soprano voice filled her ears, singing all kinds of stuff about hope. It was a little difficult for her to appreciate that, covered as she was in other ponies’ blood.

She sat there, that beautiful voice filling her ears, until another voice spoke.

“Hello,” it said. It was a mare’s voice, though something seemed... off about it. It was just a little stilted, and ever so slightly tinny. “Would you like some cake?”

She looked up and, had she not been leaning against the rock would have fallen backwards. Standing before her was what appeared to be a mechanical pony, except that instead of legs it had two wheels, one in the front and one in the back, like a bicycle, and the face was replaced by a screen that bore the black-and-white image of a smiling mare.

“Hello?”

Boss blinked. “Uhh... No,” she said. She straightened herself up, and repeated again, somewhat indignant, “No, I don’t want any cake.”

“Are you sure?” asked the robot. “It’s chocolate.”

Boss blinked and reconsidered. “Yes... actually,” she conceded. “Yes I would like some cake...”

A chamber opened up, revealing, sure enough, a slice of chocolate cake, sitting on a plate. There was even a little cherry on top.

She sat and stared at the strange machine. “What are you?” she asked.

“I am a Ministry of Morale Helpful Mechanical Wheelie!” the robot piped. “Designed to offer aid and raise spirits.”

“I see...” said Boss. Not seeing anything particularly threatening about the machine, she leaned forward and took the plate of cake. The machine had helpfully provided a fork, but as an earth pony her hooves were ill-suited to handle cutlery. “Thanks.”

“You are covered in blood,” noted the Wheelie. “Do you need soap? How about a towel?”

Boss ate her cake in silence. It was pretty good. Well, this is weird.

The Wheelie simply stood where it was, waiting for her answer. There was one thing she knew, however: the population of Stable 51 would be better off staying in the stable.

“No...” she said, slowly standing up. “But you might be able to help me. I’m looking for a town called Oasis. I was told it was in this direction.”

“Why yes!” said the Wheelie, turning and facing an obscure direction. “It is just over that ridge.”

Boss looked at the mess of rocks the robot pointed to. The dangers she’d faced so far turned her off of heading to anymore unknown parts, but if she had to go through more raiders getting back, finishing the trek to the town would be a safer bet than taking another two days back to the stable.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I am sorry I did not arrive sooner to help,” said the Wheelie, the face screen changing its image to one with a dour expression of condolence and sympathy.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Boss.

With that, she took the remaining supplies from Fixit’s body, and resumed her trudge to the town of Oasis.

“Have a nice day!”

--

Endnote: Level Up!

You have gained a new Perk!
Awareness: Your Perception lets you pick up on the fine details. When viewing ponies, you can discern additional information about them, including health, weapon details, and ammunition.

180 days left.