Fallout Equestria: Without a Spark

The Hellhound lowered the gun, and walked on three of its legs towards me. Its eyes were full of curiosity, and wasn't making aggressive moves. At least I thought so, I had never seen a Hellhound act this way before. Something in my gut told me to lower my revolver, and something in my brain told me not to. On one hoof, the bullets were hollow-points and probably couldn't penetrate its skull. On the other... I was dead anyway.

"Pony... Where can I find bullets?" The words came in a slow, scratchy voice.

"Huh?" The gun dropped from my mouth and onto the ground.

"Bullets... For gun." The thing waved its weapon around in the air like a toy, and I got a good look at its claws; they were long enough to slice me like bread.

It was asking me for ammo. Any Hellhound could just tear me apart in the blink of an eye using nothing more than its own body; why would it need ammo? This was strange. "Uh... W-what does it shoot?" I stuttered, hardly believing I was helping it.

"Cyber-dog made for me. Said was thirty, seven, milli, meter. Don't know what that is. Said get more and protect."

37 millimeter? This Hellhound has a handgun that fired rounds once used to stop dragons and heavy Zebra mechs. As I was thinking, I noticed little wires in the wrinkles on its forehead, and more around his ears. I never met any "Cyber-Dogs", but they sounded like the type to go messing with fancy electronics; maybe they found a way to neutralize Hellhounds. It hadn't attacked me in a frothing rage, so maybe they'd done it. I'd just like to be on their side if the idea worked. "I'll tell you, if you promise not to hurt anybody who doesn't try to hurt you."

"Cyber-dogs tell me this too." it said. "So I say yes." At least the Cyber-dogs were friendly, or at least not out to kill ponies. Nice to have a little confirmation on that other than the fact I wasn't a fleshy puddle right now.

"Go south and look for Maripony Military Base. If any place around here has your bullets, that would be it." I didn't have a clue if there were more there, but it was Hellhound territory and he wouldn't be killing or getting killed in there.

It turned its head south. "Thank you, pony. I will tell them you helped me." It stepped off, moving quickly across the hill and out of my sight. I shook my head, clearing my mind. Carefully wiping the sweat off my face, I retrieved my weapon.

"That's something I ain't never seen before," I muttered. Getting back on (or rather, off) the road, I continued on my way, still puzzled by my encounter. Doc and Snowflake would've wanted to help the thing the moment they saw it was friendly. Basket would've let 'em help. I found my mind wandering back to the old days as I pressed on, remembering back to when we were just kids in the Wastes.

"C'mon Basket, you can do it!" I whispered. The blue filly in front of me was panting with effort, her horn glowing. We were hiding under a red boxcar in the dirt. "Tan. You need to be tan!"

"I know that!" She snapped. "Sit your impatient butt down and hang on. This isn't easy." A faint blue glow washed over her, and her fur and mane turned a dirty shade of yellow. "There," she panted, "How's that?"

"Good enough. My turn!"

"How many times do I have to tell you? I can only do this for myself. You'll have to roll around in the mud like usual," she snorted.

"Aww, you said you'd figure it out!" I whined. She promised me she'd be able to do it to me this time!

"Someday, but not now," she replied. I huffed and started wallowing around in the dirt, making sure it was sticking.

"How's this?"

"Good! Ya really think this'll work?" Basket peeked out from under the boxcar, observing the ponies of New Appleloosa.

"It better, or we'll be hungry tomorrow. Is anpony lookin'?"

"Nope. Let's go." She led the way, sprinting into an alley. I was hot on her hooves, keeping low. We came to a stop beside a rusty tan boxcar, being used as a shop. "Okay, you're up!"

I nodded. "Here I go!" Running out into the street, I immediately collapsed, screaming at the top of my lungs. "Help! I been poisoned! I been poisoned!" I started convulsing for good measure. Several adults came running. Including the one that owned the shop, hollering for healing potions and herbs. Out of the corner of my eye, Basket was blending in with the color of the store, sneaking inside to acquire certain necessities. She'd better hurry before these ponies started shoving stuff down my throat!

A green mare pressed a vial against my lips. My jaw clenched, wrenching my head side to side so she couldn't give it to me. "What's wrong with him?" The multicolored ponies surrounded me.

"He said he was poisoned!" shouted one. I whipped my head around some more, making sure to keep my mouth firmly shut, especially after last time.

"I'd say he looks like he's got an infection-fevah! Get a thermometah!"

"I brought one, here!" A brown stallion passed one to the green mare. I thrashed some more, trying to delay them as long as possible.

"No good, he's got lockjaw," the mare said, looking me over as I convulsed.

"It doesn't have to go in the mouth," he replied.

What did he mean, 'it doesn't have to go in the mouth'? Where else would it... Wait... Uh oh. My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth and screamed. "NO! NO! I BEEN POISONED I TELL YA! I BEEN POISONED, I DON'T HAVE NO FEVER!"

"Hold him down! He needs help!" The stronger ponies placed their hooves on my back and held me there. This is it. This is the end. I'll die of humiliation. I struggled even harder, kicking and swinging, knocking the thermometer out of her hooves. Two more ponies grabbed my free limbs and pinned them down. What the hell was wrong with these ponies? Just give me a healing potion. Some bandages! One of those sucker-things doctors use to get venom out of snake bites! Luna above, some Psycho! Who sees a child in trouble and their first thought is to hold them down and jam something up their butt?

"Hey!" A box of Cram sailed over me, knocking the green mare in the head. Another flew into the pony restraining my head. "Take that!" A barrage of empty tin cans proceeded to rain down, the adult ponies dashing for cover. Glancing up, I saw Basket on top of the boxcar, throwing our recently acquired goods with both hooves and horn. "Run Judge!" I didn't need to be told twice. I jumped up and skedaddled on out of there.

Basket turned and jumped down into the alleys. I joined her, and together we ran. The same group that was willing to try and heal me were now trying to catch us for stealing their goods. So much for charity. "We'll split and meet up at the boxcar!" I yelled.

She broke left, and I went right. I managed to slither under the nearest boxcar-house while the mob ran back out into the streets, thinking that's where I'd gone. Basket was having a little more trouble, attempting to flee and keep the bag of goods levitating behind her. She ran out towards the railyard, three stallions closing in. I wriggled out and dashed after them. She was leading them in a big circle, and I caught a glimpse of the burlap sack above me as it was magically tossed into a flipped boxcar, her pursuers not taking notice.

She suddenly stopped and turned to face her pursuers, her small horn lighting up. I closed my eyes and ran through them. The angry yelling was the signal to open my eyes again. Basket was sitting on the boxcar she tossed the bag into, motioning for me to get closer. When I did, she levitated me up and in.

We landed on the inside, listening for the ponies just on the other side of the metal walls.

"Damn it! Where'd that little bitch go?"

"I think she took off for the gates with her little bastard friend!" A hoof thudded angrily against the ground.

"Well good riddance. If the guards don't catch 'em, somethin' else will. They only grabbed a few cans of food anyways."

"We chased her around like that over a few things of Cram!"

"Hey! I'll buy you a drink, if that'll settle you down."

"Fine." The sound of the three stallions trotting away made me feel a little safer.

"You alright?" I asked her quietly.

"Hmmph. I'm fine. But it seems you might have a temperature," she teased.

I growled, before slowly cracking into a grin and joined Basket laughing. "Couldn't have cut it much closer, couldja?"

"I had to find empty cans. Unless you wanted me to throw the good stuff at 'em." She dumped the sack on the floor, revealing enough food to last us a few more days. "Think we're safe with two meals today?"

"Probably. But we need to add a few cans to the travel supply if we want to make it to Manehatten." I shuddered at that mention.

Basket laid down beside me. "Still don't like the old cities?"

"They're... They're just creepy. That's all. Like there should be ponies everywhere but there aren't. Always feel like I'm being watched."

A large, fleshy being plopped down next to us. Basket eeked and pressed up against the boxcar wall. I put myself between her and the thing, ready to try and fight. It took a moment for me to realize it was one of the other shopkeepers, a ghoul pegasus, with a small blackboard around her neck.

'You shouldn't steal!' was written on it. One of her eyes refused to look at us, while the other was burning away in a stare. Using her mouth, she erased the words and wrote, 'So here's a gift.' Behind her was a small sack, filled with food and even two healing potions, and her gaze softened when she saw our eyes going wide. She wrote on her board again, the words scrunched so they'd fit on it. 'You can stay with me if you want. But no more stealing!'

"S-sorry ma'am," Basket said politely, "But we feel safer out in the Wastes." The mare gave her a worried look, so the unicorn filly added, "Don't worry. We have hideouts nopony but us can find. Right, Judge?"

"Yep!" I nodded furiously. "Nopony can find our hidin' spots."

I wondered if any of those hiding spots were still out there. I guess they weren't more than holes in burned trees or small caves in ruined buildings, but back then they kept us alive. We first met Ditzy a long time ago, more than twenty years, if I remember it right. Back when it was just me and Basket, two orphans roaming around the Wasteland hiding from Raiders and stealing to stay alive. Basket learned a few neat tricks here and there to stay out of trouble, but I was always who had to get dirty. Not that I minded, it's not healthy for a pony to stay too clean.

Judging by the sun, I had an hour or so before nightfall. I figured I had been making good time, even with a broken leg, but shelter was scarce. Getting off the road, I searched until I found a burnt, broken tree that would do. It took the last hour of light, but with effort several scorched branches lay against the trunk in a makeshift lean-to. Careful not to wrench my leg as I crawled inside, I hoped for an uneventful night. Above me, a small patch of stars was showing through the clouds.

The night sky was a rare sight in the Wasteland. Sometimes I found myself wishing I could lay on an open plain somewhere, look up, and see nothing but stars above. A cook fire collapsing into coals, listening to the wind float across long grass in an earthly music, my friends quietly laying next to me. As the clouds slowly knitted back together, I drifted off to sleep, gazing up towards the grey sky.

About half an hour before the sunrise I found myself waking. Looking through my bags, I had a few snack cakes and a box of Cram left, along with some freeze-dried coffee and two bottles of water. I emptied a pouch of coffee into my mouth, downing it with a few swigs of water, followed by a few bites of Cram. The bitter taste woke me up and got me on my way.

At this rate, I could be there by noon. Maybe New Appleloosa was closer than I thought; it had been a while since I'd been down this way. The pain in my rear leg was starting to grow; I definitely needed some Med-X or another healing potion. That first should've taken care of it, but that caravaner warned me some of the potions might be low-quality. Doc could patch up anypony from anything with nothing but booze and ripped clothes, but I can't get an idiot-proof healing potion to work properly. Doc had vanished up north, setting out on his own; not to mention he seemed to be losing it when he left. At least Ditzy Doo always had good stuff for sale, I'd have to ask her when I get to town.

I continued my hobble, always watching for anything suspicious. Just a couple more hours. A soft pop echoed through the air. A gunshot. I picked my revolver from the holster and moved forward. Sounded like it was just up ahead. Crossing the crest of a hill, I saw a caravan cart being attacked by several raiders on the road. The raiders' backs were to me, and the flipped cart was providing cover for some traders.

I managed to move close enough to where I could shoot accurately, the raiders too absorbed in their current fight to notice. "Hey!" I shouted, "Over here, shitbags!" No return shots were coming from the cart, and the raiders shifted their attention to me. They were so dirty I couldn't tell if they were another color aside from brown and red, and they all had similar tattered barding made from scrap metal and strips of leather. Two had shovels, one with a two-by-four, two with double-barreled sawn-offs, and two more with semi-automatic pistols. All shouting and screaming as they tried to rush me.

One by one, Judge, one by one. A shot to a shovel-wielding raider's chest was enough to drop him mid-step. The same went for his two companions with melee weapons. They had closed quickly, their companions moving slower, trying to aim. The two carrying pistols fired wildly at me, their shots going wide. The double-barrel twins were now closing. A spray of buckshot bit into my chest, my barding stopping their penetration. I bit my mouthpiece, dropping one with a bang. The other took a shallow hit, the bullet entering his shoulder and exiting his side, but still collapsed and let his shotgun clatter to the ground. I fired the last round from that revolver into his chest to make sure he stayed down.

Down to the pistol wielding ponies. They were busy attempting to reload. Limping forward, my revolver fell from my mouth as I plucked another from my left foreleg holster. I turned the fully-loaded .357 on the two raiders left standing. They glanced up just as I emptied two rounds into the left one's chest and side. The other slammed his magazine home and promptly tried to empty it in my direction, but failed to fire. Another shot caught him in the throat, his eyes going wide as he tried to breathe through a perforated trachea. One more shot to his chest ended the gurgling as blood continued to gush from his neck. Scooping my two used .357's into my saddlebags, I drew my final loaded gun and made my way through the bodies, checking for anything valuable. The heavy smell of gunsmoke hung in the air, stringy wisps of white rising slowly into the sky. Two were still alive, choking and moaning. I didn't have the bullets to waste on them; they weren't a threat anymore.

These raiders had absolute shit for weapons and ammunition. The brass was dented on unfired rounds, their guns were cracked, caked in carbon, and the last one I'd shot had jammed his magazine upside down so hard it was stuck. Hell, the sights on both pistols had rusted away; no wonder they couldn't hit me. I was simply amazed that any of their firearms actually fired and didn't explode in their face when it did.

The overturned cart was forty yards further down the road. A purple head poked out from over the top, levitating a rusted break-barrel shotgun at me. "H-hold it right there! I know how to use this!" The mare shouted. Her voice was wavering, and I could make out a colt crying. "Don't come any closer!"

I stopped advancing, holstered my weapon, but kept my eyes on her. "It's okay. They're dead. Are you alright?"

She observed the dead raiders and took a minute to think. "I suppose if you wanted to kill us you'd have done it by now. This thing is empty anyways." The shotgun lowered back down behind the cart. "We were trying to make for New Appleloosa before the raiders could catch up to us. My husband is hurt badly, do you have any healing potions?"

"I used my last yesterday. Get him in the cart and go. I'll protect ya best I can." Limping around, her husband was lying behind the wagon and had taken multiple buckshot wounds to his orange hide, both to his chest and side. Blood slowly trickled out onto the ground and matted his fur. It looked nasty enough, but hopefully we had a short while before he'd expire. His little red colt was next to him, using strips of his own filthy clothing as makeshift bandages, tears streaming down his face. Their goods were no more than junk scattered over the ground. As the mare pushed the cart back on its wheels, I addressed the child. "Ya did good, kid. Your daddy's gonna be okay. I promise." He remained attentive to his father, not even acknowledging me.

The mare floated the stallion into the cart. He had lost consciousness, either from shock or blood loss. Either way, he needed help soon. The purple unicorn buckled herself into the cart, and the colt hopped in the back with his dad. "Can you keep up with that leg?" the mare asked. On her face was a look of exhaustion I knew too well.

"Don't you worry about me. Just get going, and don't stop."