Fallout: Equestria (Ghetto Abridged Version)

Chapter Two: Equestrian Wasteland

"What ghetto do you live in, biatch?  Out here up in tha real ghetto, blood flows, lil pony.  Blood flows..."

Nothingness!

I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah first nuff muthafuckin secondz outside was a heart-burstin eternitizzle of hoof-poundin terror playa!  Da rap had been right son!  All dat was outside was a pimped out black nothingness muthafucka!  It surrounded me, suffocatin.  If I had been able ta draw breath, I would have screamed.

And then mah eyes started ta adjust ta tha darkness.  I fuckin started ta calm, gasping, feelin weak (and not just a lil foolish).  In mah defense, I had never experienced night before.  Not straight-up.  Sure, I’d always turned off tha lights before curlin tha fuck into bed yo, but dat darknizz was small, confined ta mah lil room.  And there was always tha glow from under tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  Da hall lightz of Stable Two was eternal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack.

This was different.  A def air, like unlike anythang within tha Stable, tickled mah coat n' chilled mah skin beneath.  It bore smells dat was dank n' rotting, dusty n' alien. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  I could hear tha soundz of night insects, creakin of wood n' a gangbangin' far-off sloshing... but I was struck mo' by what tha fuck I couldn’t hear -- tha constant low hum of tha Stable’s generators n' tha ever-present high whine of tha lights was gone -- so bangin up in they absence dat I first mistook tha outside as silent.  I could feel dirt n' broken stone beneath mah hooves, so unlike tha smooth n' sterile floors I had trotted all mah life.  And though I could not peep much or far, I could peep further than I had eva peeped before, n' there was no walls ta mark tha end of tha room.  I was starin tha fuck into a horizontal abyss dat stretched up from me up in every last muthafuckin direction.

An entirely freshly smoked up panic fuckin started ta form within mah dirty ass.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah hind hairy-ass legs went up from under me n' I sat, stunned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I turned mah gaze ta tha ground, breathang deeply, thankin it not only fo' holdin me up yo, but bein a visual endpoint.  Then I made tha mistake of lookin up tha fuck into tha sky, n' tha absolute endless up-nizz of it busted mah head spinnin n' mah stomach lurching.    Great massez of cloudz rolled over most of tha sky; but there was gaps all up in which soft light poured n' all up in dem I could peep tha up went on all up in dis biatch.  Insanely, I thought of tha cloudz as a pimped out net, made ta catch me if I fell from tha earth tha fuck into tha yawnin gulf above; but if I slipped all up in tha holes, I would just fall up all up in dis biatch.

I clenched mah eyes shut n' tried ta keep from vomiting.

Da fear n' queasinizz was intense but passing.  Once mah facultizzles returned, I fuckin started ta notice dem thangs dat had escaped mah crazy ass up in mah initial panic.  Da surroundin  terrain was becomin evident.  Da ghetto around mah crazy ass did not stretch up evenly; tha ground heaved n' rolled -- hills creepin towardz mountains.  Da earth was punctured by tha upthrustin black fingerz of long-dead trees.  Along distant hilltops, I could peep tha swaying, leaf-shrouded branchez of gameier woodz yo, but tha livin trees near Stable Two was few, scattered n' sickly.

Second, I noticed dat mah PipBuck was flashin wit a host of alerts.  Da map-maker was already beginnin ta do its work on mah freshly smoked up n' unfamiliar surroundings, n' ta mah surprise had already pulled a label from tha ether: Sweet Applez Acres.

Turnin around ta git mah bearings, mah eyes was drawn ta tha large, hollowed husk of what tha fuck I assumed had once been a magnificent house.  Now, it creaked n' swayed up in tha breeze as if threatenin ta collapse.

Lookin ta mah PipBuck again, I noticed dat it was pickin up nuff muthafuckin radio transmissions.  Da radio broadcast from Stable Two was dark yo, but freshly smoked up stations had taken its place.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah ass leapt, fo' it was tha straight-up original gangsta indication dat there might be pony thuglife up here afta all.  I nudge mah PipBuck ta start playin tha straight-up original gangsta station on tha list.

"...still sealed up.  There is no way inside.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah son, he ate one of tha applez from dem damned apple trees up near tha Stable, n' now he’s terribly sick.  Too sick ta move.  We’ve holed up in tha cistern near tha oldschool memorial. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack.  We’re hustlin outta chicken n' medicinal supplies.  Please, if anypony hears this, muthafuckin help us...  Message repeats.  Hello, biatch?  Is there anypony up there, biatch?  Please, we need muthafuckin help!  I was brangin mah gang ta tha Stable up near Sweet Applez Acres when we was beat down by raiders.  Only mah lil hustla n' I survived. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Our thugged-out asses juiced it up ta tha Stable yo, but it’s still sealed up.  There is no way inside.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah son, he ate one of tha applez from dem damned apple trees up near tha Stable, n' now he’s terribly sick.  Too sick ta move.  We’ve holed up in tha cistern near tha oldschool memorial. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack.  We’re hustlin outta chicken n' medicinal supplies.  Please, if anypony hears this, muthafuckin help us...  Message repeats.  Hello?..."

A voice was filled wit a terrible resignation, as if tha pony had already given up hope n' was just goin all up in tha motions.  Shaken, I turned it off.  I didn’t be thinkin I could bear ta hear it again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  That is when I noticed tha soft tickin from mah PipBuck.  Peepin it over, I discovered dat its radiation detector -- a gangbangin' feature I had never known ta be used, had self-activated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time.  Da thugged-out lil rainbow dial had always been planted firmly up in tha green. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  It was still there yo, but edgin discreetly towardz tha yellow.

I couldn’t just stand here beside what tha fuck had long, long ago been tha door ta a simple apple cellar fo' tha rest of mah life.  Well, I could yo, but it would be a relatively short n' miserable life.  A realization was dawnin on me: wit all kindsa muthafuckin directions ta go, what tha fuck was tha likelihood dat I would chose tha path dat Velvet Remedy had followed, biatch?  Even though she only had a gangbangin' few minutes head start, tha prospect of findin her was bleak.

But I had ta start somewhere.  And tha dopest chizzle I had was ta git up high n' gots a look around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Da ruins near me rose higher than any of tha nearby trees, n' tha sheered-off roof of its upper tower was probably tha dopest vantage point I could hope for. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  I closed mah eyes, steadied mah dirty ass, n' went inside.

***     ***     ***

What was left of tha Sweet Applez Acres buildin proved sturdier than it looked (or sounded).  It was also almost barren, anythang of value dat had survived had been looted, leavin only scraps dat no muthafucka wanted but dat time itself seemed unable ta erase.  Rusted shoes, boxez of soaps fo' cleanin dresses dat no longer existed, a pitchfork wit a shattered handle, a rake.

I fuckin started up tha stairs.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah eyes was alerted ta a gangbangin' feeble glow, tha soft chroniccolor of a poisoned apple, bathang tha room above.  Da glow came from tha screen of a oldschool terminal, a thugged-out device of arcane science identical ta tha ones used all up in Stable Two. It seemed miraculous dat it still hit dat shizzle afta centuries on tha outside.  When Stable-Tec built something, they built it ta last.

Curiositizzle lured mah crazy ass ta it, n' mah wonder was quickly replaced wit understanding.  It was no coincidence dat dis particular terminal was live, fo' on it was a gangbangin' fresh message:

To any pony whoz ass has left Stable Two up in search of me:

Please, go home.  I be bustin what tha fuck I have ta do.  Da Overmare understands, even if dat thugged-out biiiatch can never agree, n' I hope one dizzle yo big-ass booty is ghon to.  I aint gonna be back.  Do not look fo' mah dirty ass.  Do not endanger yo ass further fo' mah sake.  Please forgive mah dirty ass.

Velvet Remedy

I searched tha terminal fo' mo' yo, but all tha other lyrics was ancient n' corrupted save fo' one.  And dat one had a rather unique encryption, suttin' I had heard of but never peeped before -- a funky-ass binary encryption such dat up in order ta decrypt it, I would first have ta downlizzle tha message tha fuck into mah PipBuck from both tha terminal which had been used ta bust it n' tha one upon which it was received. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

Havin not a god damn thang mo' betta ta do wit tha vast amountz of storage mah PipBuck was capable of, I downlizzleed dat shit.  In reality, I knew dat tha chances dat I would eva come across tha companion terminal, much less dat it would be functional, was overwhelmingly against mah dirty ass.  Nor did I have any reason ta believe a message centuries oldschool would be of any significance.

Mo' blinginly, I now had ta grill dat outside was mah freshly smoked up home.  Even if I found Velvet Remedy, it was unlikely dat dat biiiiatch would accompany me back.  I’ll admit, I had been subtly entertainin a gangbangin' fantasy where tha Overmare would be so delighted wit Velvet’s return dat dat biiiiatch would embrace our asses both back tha fuck into tha herd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Maybe even throw me a party.  Now, I was forced ta admit how tha fuck foalish dat vision was.

Thinkin upon dis made mah head fill wit black clouds.  But as I reached tha top of tha ruins n' looked up over tha wasteland, a funky-ass bright light, feeble as it was, flickered up in dat darkness... just as tha light from tha campfire, not half a hour’s trot distant, poked a orange hole up in tha night.

***     ***     ***

As I approached tha circle of firelight, I knew suttin' was off.  Somethang bout tha way tha dusty beige unicorn was layin on his crazy-ass mat of straw, hairy-ass legs curled up under his muthafuckin ass.  Some tensenizz up in his body language.  But it wasn’t until I stepped hoof tha fuck into tha light n' gots a phat look -- a warm "Hello" dyin on mah lips -- dat I saw da thug was gagged, n' caught tha glint of tha flames against a gangbangin' few expose links up in tha chains bindin his hooves.

"Well lookee here biaaatch!  Walked up all sick n' pleasant, didn’t she?"  A big-ass earth pony emerged from tha shadowz of a nearby rock.  His hooves clacked metallically against tha rocky ground, shod up in wackly spiked ponyshoes.  Two mo' ponies slid outta hidin on opposite sides -- one another earth pony holdin a shovel whose blade had been lethally sharpened, tha other a unicorn whose glowin horn levitated towardz me a short instrument of wood n' metal wit two barrels.  Each pony wore bardin made from thick hide.  Much like night, I had never peeped a gangbangin' firearm before, save fo' pictures up in books.  But dem books was mo' than explicit enough fo' me ta recognize tha mortal threat.

Da bound unicorn on tha mat shook his head wit a fucked up yet derisive look n' fuckin started tryin tha scrape tha gag away wit a gangbangin' forehoof, no longer makin effort ta keep tha chains secret.  Da three ponies menacin me spared his ass only tha occasionizzle glance.

"Might as well have trussed her muthafuckin ass up fo' us," tha gun-wieldin unicorn snickered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Then, addressin me, "Yo ass wouldn’t mind, would yo slick ass?"

Laughter. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  "And another unicorn too.  She’ll fetch a pimpin' price, dis one."

Fetch a price fo' what, biatch?  And from whom?

Da one holdin tha shovel-spear up in his crazy-ass grill mumbled suttin' incomprehensible.  Then, apparently decidin tha glock was sufficient deterrent, spat up his weapon n' re-iterated, "By tha Go... I mean, peep her playa!  I be thinkin she’s taken a funky-ass bath!"

I was suddenly n' bizarrely aware of how tha fuck filthy all four of tha ponies were, n' how tha fuck foul they smelled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I managed ta cover a gag wit a sneeze.

"What’s goin on?" I axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Of tha emotions battlin fo' supremacy up in mah head, confusion had clawed its way ta victory.

Da captizzle unicorn finally succeeded up in pullin tha filthy gag free.  "They’re slavers, you idiot."

***     ***     ***

Monterey Jack, tha dirty beige unicorn wit dour expression n' a cold-ass lil cutie mark dat looked like cheese, followed behind mah crazy ass as we trudged alongside our captors, struttin a funky-ass broken path dat once was a road. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah hairy-ass legs was up in chains, makin struttin hard as fuck n' anythang mo' speedy than a trot impossible.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah PipBuck had stymied tha slavers efforts ta bind mah forelegs, eventually forcin dem ta chain me above tha knees.  Had tha one wit tha shovel-spear not been holdin its point dangerously against mah throat, tha other two would have gotten a gangbangin' few hooves ta tender places fo' they efforts.  As it was, they made short work of mah dirty ass.

I was not gagged yo, but Monterey had convinced mah crazy ass early dat unnecessary chatter from tha slaves-to-be wannaly result up in tha loss of mah tongue.  Not dat I had much ta say ta these brutes anyway aside from mah repertoire of colorful metaphors.  I didn’t expect they would answer mah thangs, even if mah tongue should survive tha asking, n' they was bein chatty enough wit each other ta suffice.

"Hate thef fart," grumbled tha earth pony all up in tha spear clenched up in his cold-ass teeth.

"Well then, if you would just learn ta swim, we could take tha long way, couldn’t we?" suggested tha unicorn wit poisoned dopeness.

"Hate fuffen sweffey."  By his smell, decidedly mo' pungent than tha others, I guessed he just hated gin n juice up in general.

"How tha fuck bout you stop complainin n' I’ll let you sample one of tha slaves before we git ta tha forest."  Their leader, tha earth pony named Cracker wit tha spiked Nikes n' a cold-ass lil cutie mark dat looked suspiciously like a whip (or maybe a snake?), turned back towardz Monterey n' I wit a gangbangin' filthy smile.

I looked away.  They laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

Through they disgustin dialogue, I could hear a liquid sound ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Not like a funky-ass burblin gin n juice fountain but closer ta a sloughin muck.  And... suttin' else.  A distant sound, gettin closer. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  Noize, biatch?  Yes, beatz. Drop dis like itz hot!  Slightly tinny yet... triumphant, biatch?  Regal, biatch?  I couldn’t put mah hoof on exactly what tha fuck feelin tha noize was tryin ta inspire yo, but it was brightly out-of-place.

Cracker took note of mah expression n' smirked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  "Yo ass look like you’ve never heard dat before.  What, did you live yo' thuglife up in a Stable, biatch?  If you’re hopin fo' tha cavalry, dat ain’t it filly.  That’s just one of dem sprite-bots."

Da noize cut up wit a sharp twang.

Da unicorn slaver, Sawed-Off, trotted ahead a funky-ass bit, peerin down tha path ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Turnin back ta tha rest of us, da perved-out muthafucka smirked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  "Think one of tha radigators gots it?"

Cracker suggested it flew tha fuck into somepony’s booby trap.  Da other earth pony suggested a grillful of spear-mangled mumbling.  Da unicorn turned forward again n' again n' again n' tha glow from his horn illuminizzled tha machine -- a metal bizzle bout tha size of a gangbangin' foal’s head floatin on four silently flappin wings - hoverin silently right up in front of his wild lil' face.  No arcane science this, I could tell; it was pure earth pony engineering.

"FUCK!"   Sawed-Off leapt back a gangbangin' full pony’s length up in surprise.  Then swung his shotgun ta bear n' fired it all up in tha sprite-bot.  Da sound was like a metal plate fallin from tha ceiling, n' it echoed all up in tha night-darkened hills.  Sparks specked tha metal bizzle as it was peppered wit scattershot.  It let up a electric whine n' darted tha fuck into tha darkness.

Da unicorn almost took off afta it yo, but Cracker’s voice cut tha distizzle between them, "That’s enough, Sawed-Off.  Save yo' ammo."

"Dammit, I don't give a fuck bout when they pull dat stealthy shit.  It’s a gangbangin' flyin fuckin radio; it’s not supposed ta sneak up on ponies."

I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah ears was burnin from tha free flow of crude profanitizzle yo, but I didn’t mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I was mullin over what tha fuck I had just seen.

"Idiot," muttered Monterey Jack under his breath.  "They heard dat all tha way up in Ponyville..."

Unlike mah fellow slave, I was pleased ta have witnessed tha unicorn firin off his weapon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  Because now I knew how tha fuck it worked.

"...What kind of damned fool," Monterey grumbled, "announces his thugged-out lil' presence dis close ta raider territory."

***     ***     ***

A river slithered across our path, its watas slippin n' oozin along its banks, half-stagnant.  Da gin n juice lapped n' sucked all up in tha supportz of a funky-ass bridge, makin tha wet soundz I had been hearing.  Beyond tha bridge lurked tha shattered remainz of a pre-war town.

Da bridge was a maze of barricades.  Dark shadowz of ponies moved bout dat shit.  Briefly I may have made tha mistake of hopin fo' rescue; but mah eyes was drawn ta tha spiked polez dat lined tha bridge, n' tha still rottin headz of decapitated ponies dat adorned two of em.

I smoked bile.  Da sight was horrific.

"Cager, stay here," Cracker holla'd, finally puttin a name ta tha spear-wieldin slaver pony.  "Sawed-Off, let’s go hear what tha fuck tha toll is dis time."

Monterey Jack lowered his head n' looked balefully towardz tha bridge.  I moved closer ta him, followin his wild lil' fuckin example, n' hopin dat I had positioned mah dirty ass so Cager couldn’t peep tha faint glow from mah horn as I slipped mah screwdriver n' a funky-ass bobby pin from mah stable utilitizzle barding.  Like all of tha slavers’ shit, tha manaclez on mah hairy-ass legs was crude n' of low quality.  As Cracker n' Sawed-Off broke off some disrespec wit tha bridge ponies, I focused on pickin tha straight-up original gangsta lock.  I was rewarded wit a soft click as it sprung open, releasin mah PipBuck foreleg.  Da manacle fell ta tha ground wit a lil thump.

"Hhu!"  Cagey’s ears had blasted up, n' now he moved around ta peep mah dirty ass.  Swiftly, I cut tha magic, droppin tha screwdriver n' bobby pin tha fuck into tha dirt, n' hoped dat up in tha darknizz tha slaver couldn’t peep tha chizzle up in mah chains.

"Wuf hoo uf foo?"  Cagey growled dangerously.  Da nasty sharp edge of tha shovel hovered inches from mah eyes.

BLAM!

Cagey turned abruptly, tha spear-shovel slashin close enough ta mah grill dat I shrieked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Da gunshot was from tha bridge.  It didn’t sound like Sawed-Off’s shotgun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  But tha second blasted did.

It took Cagey a funky-ass breath ta recognize dat crossin tha bridge had become a funky-ass bloody affair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  Glowerin back at us, his thugged-out lil' posture threatening, da perved-out muthafucka started ta say... something.  I suspect da thug was warnin our asses ta stay put yo, but I’ll never know, nahmeean, biatch?  His head blew up like a muthafucka, showerin me wit gore.

I stood there, eyes wide, bobbin wit shock.  Blood, warm n' sticky, ran down mah forehead n' tha fuck into mah left eye, oozed tha fuck into mah coat n' mane.

In tha growin list of thangs I’d not peeped before dis night, tha dirtnap of another pony ranked all up in tha top.  I blinked, feelin tha blood on mah eyelid. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Cagey was dead hommie biaaatch!  And I had Cagey all over me!!

Da urge ta throw mah dirty ass tha fuck into tha river was overwhelming.  But I wouldn’t git ta it like dis y'all.  Pushed by suttin' mo' than determination now, mah horn once again n' again n' again glowed n' I n' fuckin started ta unlock tha rest of mah manacles.

I spared a glizzle towardz tha bridge, seein Sawed-Off hunkerin down beside one of tha barricades as he magically pulled his shotgun open, stuffin up in mo' ammo.  Two shots, I realized. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  One all up in tha sprite-bot, one just now, nahmeean, biatch?  Two shots, n' then reload. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Closin tha weapon, he levitated it up above tha barricade n' blasted blindly tha fuck into tha violent milieu, sprayin a already wounded raider pony wit scattershot.  Da pony staggered n' fell.

Unfortunately fo' Sawed-Off, tha raider behind his ass had a thugged-out different kind of shotgun, one dat was fasta n' not limited ta two shots, dat fired slugs which tore pimped out holez up in tha unicorn slaver’s body tha moment he looked up ta peep tha thangs up in dis biatch of his wild lil' fuckin effort.

I turned away, cringin from tha nightmare playin up before mah dirty ass.  I focused on tha locks.

***     ***     ***

I had freed mah dirty ass n' was beginnin ta free Monterey when two raider ponies trotted off tha bridge towardz us, steppin over tha battle-mutilated corpsez of Cracker, Sawed-Off n' tha raidaz they had taken down wit em.  One of dem approachin was tha unicorn raider wieldin tha devastatin combat shotgun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  Da other, a earth pony wit a sledgehammer up in its teeth.  Da unicorn was laughing.  Not tha mean laugh of Cracker yo, but a cold-ass lil crazed laugh dat busted chills down tha back of mah neck.

"Looks like we gots ourselves some prizes!"

Da earth pony chortled behind tha sledgehammer as tha unicorn looked our asses over appraisingly.  Da two was somehow even filthier than tha slavers.  Da unicorn bore jagged scars across her grill n' flanks, one of dem tearin all up in her cutie mark, nuff muthafuckin freshly bleeding.  Da earth pony was hairless n' painfully burned over much of her left side.  Both wore bardin dat looked ragged n' cobbled together.

"help us?" I suggested weakly.

"Oh, I’ll muthafuckin help mah dirty ass ta you, all right!"  Da unicorn reared up n' gave me a kick, her hoof strikin hard tha fuck into mah side.  Pain blew up like a muthafucka n' I dropped, gasping.  Rearin up again, da hoe brought her full weight down on mah dirty ass.  I howled.

Near me, Monterey let up a wet grunt of pain as tha earth pony gave his ass a taste of her sledgehammer. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  Leavin me up in a cold-ass lil bustin up like a biatch huddle, tha unicorn also turned her attention ta tha still-chained Monterey.  In moments it became clear they intended ta beat n' bludgeon his ass until da thug was another lifeless corpse.  And probably not stop then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

"Hold his fuckin leg out.  I’m gonna blast his hooves off!"  Da unicorn raider floated tha combat shotgun a gangbangin' foot from Monterey’s splayed left hindleg, tha only one I had freed from its manacle.

Ignorin tha pain, I leapt up, closin tha distizzle n' spinnin as I gave a gangbangin' fierce back-kick.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah hooves connected wit tha shotgun, bustin  it flying.  It clattered onto tha bridge beyond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  A moment later, I was levitatin tha shovel-spear all up in tha two raider ponies whoz ass stood facin me wit gleeful expressions.  Two against one, n' both of dem was experienced fighters.  Da one wit tha sledgehammer stepped closer, as if eager ta peep if hammer beat knife.

Monterey was on her up in a instant, throwin his wild lil' forelegs over her head, pullin tha chain between dem across her neck.  Da sledgehammer fell from her grill as tha raider pony choked.

Da unicorn turned, surprised by tha sudden chizzle up in odds.  I could have beat down her then yo, but threatenin a pony is much different than muthafuckin attackin one.  I wasn’t shizzle I had it up in me ta slash at another pony, ta draw her blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg!  To maim, or possibly kill.

Da unicorn kicked up tha fallen sledgehammer n' turned ta grill me wit it, cappin' up in her eyes.  And suddenly, I found it easy as fuck  ta thrust tha shovel-spear forward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I was no longer strugglin wit followin all up in on a threat; dis was survival. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack.  Self-preservation is instinctual; it clears away tha moral hesitations.   And while I did not have tha fightin game of mah opponent, I did have a advantage all mah own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.   S.A.T.S.

Aided by tha targetin spell of mah PipBuck, I busted tha spear slashin across her knees, hobblin her muthafuckin ass.  A second slash, dis time across her face, relieved her of her weapon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  Da third would be a cappin' blow...

...except I wasn’t locked n loaded ta do dat shit.  Not yet.  Instead, I swung tha spear around, crackin her across tha head wit its handle, hard enough ta splinter tha wood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg!  Da unicorn raider fell at mah feet, unconscious.

I looked up.  Monterey was standing, chest heaving, over tha body of tha earth pony raider, tha thuglife choked outta her muthafuckin ass.  Dude was starin all up in mah grill on tha fuckin' down-lowly.  Then finally raised a gangbangin' forehoof, only fo' tha chain ta clank tight before dat schmoooove muthafucka had it mo' than a gangbangin' few inches off tha ground.

"Oh!"  Droppin tha shovel-spear, I turned on tha light of mah PipBuck n' searched bout fo' mah screwdriver. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  I had lost tha bobby pin; there was no chizzle of findin it up in tha dirt at night.  But I had more.

Once we was both free, Monterey limped slowly over ta tha bridge.  A moment later, he returned, his horn glowin a gentle beige.  Sawed-Off’s shotgun followed his muthafuckin ass.  Before I could react, he aimed it all up in tha head of tha unconscious unicorn raider n' fired. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

Her blood fuckin started ta seep across tha ground towardz mah hooves.  I watched up in stunned silence as tha pimpin' muthafucka turned n' fuckin started proddin all up in tha bodies, tuggin shit from em.

Finally, I found mah voice.  "What is you bustin?"

Dude looked all up in mah grill as if I was fuckin wack.  "Peepin ta peep if they have anythang valuable on em.  With luck, chicken n' you know I be eatin up dat shizzle all muthafuckin day, biatch."  I nodded, watchin his ass move ta tha bodies at dis end of tha bridge.  Lootin tha bodiez of tha dead felt wrong; but a cold-ass lil cold, rationizzle part of me murmured dat it was a qualm I would have ta git over up in order ta survive.  And imagine how tha fuck embarrassed I'd be if I starved ta dirtnap up here cuz I'd been too shy ta check a thugged-out dead ponyz bag fo' a pouch of oats or a cold-ass lil can of oldschool applesauce, biatch?  I moved a funky-ass bit further down tha bridge.

I looked over tha body of a thugged-out dead raider pony, his wild lil' grill bloody n' torn from Cracker’s ponyshoes.  I started ta go all up in tha pocketz of his bardin yo, but mah stomach rebelled, n' I flung mah dirty ass ta tha railing, heavin mah lunch tha fuck into tha foul river below.  A big-ass break up in tha cloudz brought a soft n' silvery light ta every last muthafuckin thang, n' I could peep mah reflection up in tha water, still covered wit Cagey’s dryin blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg!

Then I saw Sawed-Off’s shotgun hoverin up in tha air behind mah head.

"I’ll be takin what tha fuck you have too," Monterey Jack informed mah crazy ass wit a funky-ass buggin up drawl.

"w-What?"  I turned slowly ta peep his ass standin on tha bridge, bathed up in moonlight, his horn glowin a soft beige light.  Da shotgun floated between is, pointed all up in mah face.

"b-But I just saved you, nahmean biiiatch?"

"Yeah.  And fo' that, I’m not goin ta bust a cap up in yo thugged-out ass."  His eyes narrowed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  "Unless, of course, you do suttin' wack n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do."

"But I just saved you, nahmean biiiatch?"

"Aren’t you top of yo' class," da perved-out muthafucka holla'd snidely.

"Our thugged-out asses should work together playa!  Travel together!"

Monterey snorted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time.  "And split our limited provisions, biatch?  Go ta chill wit one eye open each night, hopin ta catch you when you try ta stab me up in tha back.  No props."

I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah righteous disbelief stopped short of denial. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack.  Suddenly, I was so straight-up weary.  Nodding, I lowered mah head n' let mah two canteens slip free.  I then backed up so his schmoooove ass could approach em.  I turned mah head ta start unclaspin mah saddle bags.

I saw it on tha bridge just beyond mah tail.

Turnin back ta Monterey, mah own horn was glowing.  And tha combat shotgun whipped tha fuck into tha air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  For a long-ass moment, we stood there, two unicorn ponies on a funky-ass bridge, surrounded by bodies, shotguns floatin between us, aimed at each other. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  Moonlight shone down on our asses from tha break up in tha clouds.

Monterey Jack broke tha silence, "You’re not goin ta bust dat shit.  I saw you spare dat raider. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  If you couldn’t bust a cap up in a pony like that, you don’t have it up in you ta bust a cap up in mah dirty ass."

I narrowed mah eyes.  "I’m a quick study."

Dude huffed yo, but didn’t move.  "Do you even know how tha fuck ta bust dat thing?"

I forced a smile across mah face.  "Do you know dat you only have one blasted left, biatch?  And judgin by tha sprite-bot, dat glock is up in such skanky repair I’ll survive bein blasted wit dat shit.  Will you survive bein blasted wit dis as nuff times as I can move tha trigger while you try ta reload?"

Monterey Jack took a step back.  And wit dat falter, mah smile was no longer forced. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  "And I’ll be takin mah canteens back."

***     ***     ***

Ponyville.  I wondered just how tha fuck mah PipBuck knew tha namez of places before I did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  It even named tha wreckage of a funky-ass buildin dat I had just slipped into.  Ponyville was raider territory.  I just hoped dis place, dis "Carousel Boutique", was not crawlin wit em.

Monterey Jack n' I had barely parted ways when tha railin of tha bridge blew up like a muthafucka next ta mah dirty ass.  A sniper playa!  Da same stupid-ass pony, I presumed, whoz ass had turned Cagey’s head ta applesauce.  I fled tha fuck into tha town, keepin ta what tha fuck cover there was.  Few of tha buildings was intact enough ta hide in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  This was tha closest.

Fortunately, I was ridin' solo.  I waited fo' nearly a hour, curled up in a shadow near tha door; but tha sniper pony seemed uninspired ta follow mah dirty ass.  Fuck dat shit, she or his schmoooove ass could just wait until I came out.

Fatigue washed over mah dirty ass.  I had stayed up all tha night before, n' dis night’s events was a strain on both body n' spirit, n' I aint talkin bout no muthafuckin Jack Daniels neither. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah musclez was weak n' achy.  I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah body hurt from tha kicks I had taken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I felt cheezy-assly played-out.  I needed ta chill.  Chillin here was probably a wack idea.  If I raised up at all, it could be up in tha hoovez of slavers, raidaz or possibly worse.  But goin back outside, findin someplace better, it just wasn’t on tha table.  I was up in no shape ta test mah wits against tha sniper pony again.

Carousel Boutique was like similar up in condizzle ta tha buildin up at Sweet Applez Acres, only tha lootin was mo' destructive.  Da walls had been painted wit crude imagez of violins n' cruder swear lyrics.  A pile of torn-up cloth rotted up in a cold-ass lil corner, smellin foul, like ponies had take a pissd on it repeatedly.  There was two beds, one of which was stained deeply wit blood (and probably mo' vile things).  Da other was smaller, a gangbangin' foal’s bed, not a god damn thang but a mattress on a cold-ass lil crushed frame.  In mah state, I felt it would do wonderfully.

Da Carousel Boutique offered two mo' treasures, a locked chest n' another terminal, identical ta tha one at Sweet Applez Acres.  This one too was still functional, again n' again n' again ta mah surprise.  It was locked; slippin up mah access tool, I went ta work.  These terminals was crafted by a shitload of tha same stupid-ass ponies whoz ass later made tha PipBucks, n' tha encryptions n' locks was similar enough dat mah tools allowed mah crazy ass ta git partway all up in tha security.  What remained was a puzzle, findin tha password within strandz of code dat mah access tool laid bare.  In mah fried menstrual state, it was probably a lil' small-ass miracle dat I was able ta parse tha code n' find tha password.

Or possibly not.  Da password was "apple".

I laughed aloud, catchin mah dirty ass when I heard tha volume of mah own voice up in tha stillnizz of tha decrepit boutique, as I realized that, beyond all realistic chance, dis was tha computer dat tha message had been busted to.  With a unwarranted feelin of accomplishment, I downlizzleed it, n' let mah PipBuck do tha rest.

Age had damaged tha recordin yo, but there was enough audible fo' me ta recognize dat same stupid-ass biatch voice, kinda dope n' wit a odd accent, dat had nuff minutes before revealed ta me tha code dat lead mah crazy ass outta mah oldschool thuglife n' tha fuck into dis freshly smoked up n' wack one.

"...special instructions fo' Stable Two...  ...that’s muh gang down there biaaatch!  Until tha poison is gone from up here, dat door don’t open fo' anypony!"

Da voice faded up in n' outta static.

"...know you don't give a fuck bout this, Sweetie Belle yo, but you’re a Overmare now, nahmeean, biatch?  Da Overmare of da most thugged-out blingin Stable up in all of Equestria.  I need you ta do dis fo' mah dirty ass...   ...to keep dem safe...  ...best playaz forever, remember?..."

Da sound file took a dirt nap wit a whimper. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  I had been right -- there was straight-up no value up in a two-century oldschool message.  I left tha chest fo' tha morning, curled up, n' went ta chill.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Horse Sense -- Yo ass be a swift learner. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Yo ass bust a additionizzle +10% whenever experience points is earned.