Chapters Fallout: Equestria - Luck of the Draw
Fallout: Equestria- Luck of the Draw By smartz
Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there was…
War.
War never changes. However, the people who fight the wars do. Man versus Nature. Man versus Man. Pony versus Zebra. This is a story about those two species that couldn’t get along and after years of turmoil, destroyed their world with hate and balefire. Some select ponies were spared a gruesome death by taking shelter in underground Stables, locked until the magical radiation faded to “safe” levels. The selection of these ponies were managed by Stable-Tec, the creator of these wondrous bunkers, either through chosen designation for their numerous “experimental” Stables, or for the more normal ones, luck of the draw. Stable 7 was of the latter variety, and the stable you were born in and reside 200 years after the first bombs dropped. This is your story.
6 years before the return of the Sky….
“Wake up!”
You turned in your bed, a simple standard sized bed with a comforter. It felt good and warm, compared to the cold monotony of the Stable.
“Lucky, it’s time to get up now, get some breakfast! It’s a big day today!”
Five more minutes, please Dad? It can wait five more minutes…
“You have to take the C.A.T. remember?”
The C.A.T.: the Cutie-Mark Aptitude Test. Anyone over the age of 12 has to take the test to assign them to a job in the stable. As far as you remember, it has worked so far for all the ponies that lived here, no reason it shouldn’t work for you…even if you are a blank flank at your age. Then you remember all the children that have teased you all your life have to take it too. Now you DEFINITELY don’t want to get out of bed. However, a sudden chill jolts you wide awake when your comforter is abruptly pulled off you without warning.
“Hey, birthday boy! I thought I told you to get up; you are too old for your father to help you get out of bed, aren’t you? I made some toast and juice for you to help to get your brain cells working.”
Your father, Quantum, is the Stable doctor, and he looks just like you only about 30 years older. He is a unicorn with a dark yellow coat with brown hair with some gray streaks mixed in. However, there is one big difference between you and him. You are a pegasus pony. You have asked him dozens of times why you were so different, and the answer is always the same; one of his distant relatives was a pegasus, which is just how pony genetics work. You wish you could ask your mom, Lightyear, if this is true, but according to him, she died from pneumonia when you were just a baby. It was after you were born a couple weeks early that she became gravely ill. They named you Lucky because you barely survived as you were premature, but unfortunately your mother succumbed to the disease.
Breakfast was good; at least, as good as it can be for as long as you remember, seeing as variety is not very big when you live in a place where the types of supplies never change. For 200 years, the Stable was able to provide its denizens with enough food to last them at least another century, even with population growth considered, but honestly, it gets…boring. The orchards always had the same fruit, the stores always sold the same food, drinks and candy, and even at turning 12 you have had them all. It’s not that there is anything wrong with the food, it’s just…you wish something new would happen. Maybe the C.A.T. will help you realize that.
After finishing breakfast, you put on your Stable barding, as it can get a little chilly in the corridors, say good bye to your father and head downstairs to the classroom. Outside the classroom you see a trio of ponies with their manes sculpted into pompadours, molded with enough hair gel to coagulate a lake.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t DUCKY,” sneers the ringleader, Wheat. He has been a thorn in your side since kindergarten, always picking on you since he was the first of your generation to get his cutie mark, a pair of dice. You suppose that it represents his ability at dice games, or board games that utilize dice, you forget. Anyways, you tend to avoided playing with him because not only he is cruel to you, but you are fairly certain he cheats.
That’s another thing you remember, this Stable is known for its games of chance; “Lucky Stable 7” they call it, as it was filled to the brim with games and contraptions that one would normally find in a casino and a carnival. No one now knows why they are there, but many have joked that they live under a Buffalo Reservation Casino or a Three-Ring Circus or something silly like that. It sure beats the time when there is nothing else better to do.
Even choosing the Overseer, also a differing factor to other stables, depended on chance. Every 5 years, an Overseer, who could be a stallion or mare over the age of 30 was chosen from a lottery, and should he or she decide to retire for whatever reason before those 5 years was up, a lottery was held again. The minimum mandatory time to be an Overseer was 2 years, after which they can decide to continue until their term is up, or start a new lottery. It has been sort of a tradition, as the original dwellers thought it would not be fair if only mares got to rule. They were all chosen for the Stable through luck, so the ruler should be chosen by luck as well.
Back to the gnat of a mule, Wheat was grinning at you. “I hear you turned 12 today. Still a loser blank flank, though. I mean, seriously, what pony has gotten as old as you without a cutie mark? It’s just pathetic.” Wheat and his two cronies Oatmeal and Haymaker guffawed. “You’ll never, EVER be as cool as us, the TUNNEL EELS!”
“Yea, the Tunnel Ee-what?” Oatmeal queried, perplexed. “Tunnel Eels? I thought we were going with ‘Stable Dwellers’?”
“Oatmeal, are you crazy? No one is going to take anyone with the name ‘Stable Dweller’ seriously! Use your brain, pal.”
“At least he’s got a brain, Wheat GERM.” That harsh, yet feminine voice could only belong to the one pony my age nice enough to stick up for me, Tomato. As she rounded the corner, her straight pink mane shined brighter than the fluorescent lighting, while her sharp, purple eyes shined even more. Her coat was tomato red, hence her name, and on her flank was a golden tomato flower, for she was one of our best gardeners. “Seriously, don’t you three have anything better to do? Like wonder what the C.A.T. may assign you? For instance, I think garbage collector fits you perfectly, Germ.”
“Buzz off, Tomato, and it’s just Wheat. Just because your dad is the Overseer doesn’t mean we gotta pay attention to you. And even if I become a garbage collector, it gives me a reason to take out the blank flank trash here,” Wheat snarled while looking at you.
“Touch one hair on him and I’ll make a filet out of you Tunnel Eels,” threatened Tomato, glaring daggers from her eyes.
“Ooh, I’m shaking in my horseshoes. Whatever, this is getting boring fast. Let’s go, gang. Later SUCKY, I hope you don’t let your girlfriend fight all your battles; she sure can’t help you get a cutie mark! Haw haw!” Wheat and the others continued to laugh as they walked into the classroom.
Tomato shook her head in disgust. “I can’t stand those guys…anyway, are you okay Lucky? You shouldn’t let them get to you, they are just jealous that you are the only pegasus in the stable!” Ah, yes, another reason you were teased as a kid, brought up by your childhood friend. You couldn’t deny it, for some reason only unicorn and earth ponies inhabited this stable, and you stuck out like a yellow, feathered sore hoof. “Come on, Lucky, we gotta get seated, Mr. Broth is getting ready.”
You follow Tomato into the classroom, filled with desks and students already seated in them. The projector is turned on and shines a picture of a cat playing with a pony and the bold C.A.T. title arced above them. Mr. Vegetable Broth, the teacher, is standing next to the projector with papers on a desk next to him.
“Good morning, students! It is an exciting day today, as you all know, as you will be taking the Cutie-Mark Aptitude Test, or the C.A.T. for short! It will determine which role will best suit you in the stable! You can become a teacher like me, or a hair dresser, or a farmer, or some other job that exists. But all you have to do is answer the multiple choice questions on the Fill-o-tron sheets, and the machine will do the rest! The order of the questions are different every time we do this, so I will be reading them aloud to you, and you fill in the letter on your sheet. Good luck, kids!”
Mr. Broth started distributing the Fill-o-trons with those little pencils. After that was done, he sat down at his desk at the front of the room with the slide changing button in his hoof.
“Let’s begin, shall we? Question 1…”
You are approached by a frenzied Stable scientist, who yells, "I'm going to put my quantum harmonizer in your photonic resonation chamber!" What's your response?
Question 2 While working as an intern in the Clinic, a patient with a strange infection on his hoof stumbles through the door. The infection is spreading at an alarming rate, but the doctor has stepped out for a while. What do you do?
Question 3 You discover a young colt lost in the lower levels of the Stable. He's hungry and frightened, but also appears to be in possession of stolen property. What do you do?
Question 4 Congratulations! You made one of the Stable 7 hoofball teams! Which position do you prefer?
Question 5 Your grandmother invites you to tea, but you're surprised when she gives you a pistol and orders you to kill another Stable resident. What do you do?
Question 6 Old Mr. Appleseed has locked himself in his quarters again, and you've been ordered to get him out. How do you proceed?
Question 7 Oh, no! You've been exposed to radiation, and a mutated hoof has grown out of your stomach! What's the best course of treatment?
Question 8 A fellow Stable 7 resident is in possession of a Mare-do-Well comic book, issue number 1. You want it. What's the best way to obtain it?
Question 9 You decide it would be fun to play a prank on your father. You enter his private restroom when no one is looking, and....
Question 10 What is the most important virtue in Stable 7, as it was the only way your ancestors managed to get into this stable, ensuring your survival from the balefire megaspells?
“All right, pencils down! Congratulations, you have completed the C.A.T.! Now form a single file line so we can get those scanned.”
As the lights turned back on you have to wonder to yourself just how much industrial solvent was somepony huffing to make such a bizarre test? Or perhaps, it was literally a hundred cats in a room filled with word processors covered in catnip, and by some miracle typed out a test whilst they cavort and prance on the keyboards in their hallucinogenic high? Cats aside, you walk up to the front of the class, waiting in line to have your test graded and reveal your fate in the stable.
“Okay, Mister Wheat Germ, let’s see what we got here, shall we?” Mr. Broth took the Fill-o-tron from Wheat’s mouth and placed it in the Stable-Tec Fill-o-Tron reader. After a few seconds of beeping and booping, and a loud ding, the answer printed out on a little receipt paper. “It looks like you are going to be a delivery pony. Congrats, you get to deliver mail to all the exotic places in the Stable you haven’t already seen all your life.”
Wheat looked a little distressed, but after some thinking (first time for everything), shrugged it off. “Eh, whatever teach’. Just call me ‘Courier’ though, I think that sounds way more awesome…like 20% more awesome.”
“Fascinating. Now go lick some stamps or whatever, there are more students to grade. Let’s see, Oatmeal…looks like you’ll be in Security! Strap up some armor, you are going on patrol!”
Oatmeal seemed pleased. “Neat, I get to hold weapons and wear armor. There are some cute mares in Security too, I can’t wait!”
“Right, just watch out, they can be a little frisky, heheh. Don’t ask me how I know that. Hello Miss Tomato, how are you today? Hope the test wasn’t too hard.”
Tomato giggled as she gave Broth a raised eyebrow. “What have I told you about formalities, Mr. Broth! Oh wait, I was being formal myself, heehee. So let’s get this over with, what do I get to do?”
“Of course, it says here you are an orchard supervisor! Not like we haven’t figured that out, eh?”
“Naturally, I am an earth pony and a gardener to boot. Dad will be so happy when he hears this.”
“Tell him I said hi! Next up is, ah, it’s our birthday boy Lucky! Your dad told me you almost didn’t wake up to take the wondrous C.A.T.! Well, I assure you that if this doesn’t help you get your cutie mark, I don’t know what will! Er…no offense, I mean. Now let’s get that scanned.”
You wait anxiously as the machine did its calculations and matched my answers to the key inside it’s electronic memory. As it printed out the results, you noticed you are holding your breath.
“Okay Lucky, drum-roll please? The test says you are…”
Level 1 (No perk yet, wait until Level 2!)
Barter -17
Action Points: 95
Trait: Jinxed -Critical hits are increased for both you and your enemies.
The C.A.T. is based off of Fallout 3’s test, found at http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/G.O.A.T .
Select what Lucky is going to be at http://luckysfate.tumblr.com . The #1 answer chooses his job, adding 15 points to the corresponding skill, while the 2 runner-ups become his other tagged skills.
Stable chaplain-Barter
Fallout: Equestria - Luck of the Draw
Fallout: Equestria –Luck of the Draw
Chapter 2: Winning the Lottery
“How am I gonna stop some mean Mother Hubbard from tearing me a structurally superfluous new behind? The answer: use a gun. If that don’t work: use more gun.”
“Okay Lucky, drum-roll please? The test says you are…” Mr. Broth scans the bottom of the receipt, and then suddenly generates an expression of shock, alarm and unease.
“Well, Lucky, the test says you are best suited for Pest Control. Congratulations, you have a big responsibility our Stable! As you know, protecting our crops from pests is very important, because if they get eaten, then we have nothing to eat, and then we all starve and die!” Broth exclaims with a hint of worry underneath, and begins scribbling something on to the receipt. “Here, this is the pony responsible for your training. His room is in the far right corner of the main orchard when you enter through the big doors, you can’t miss it, with the lawnmowers and other gardening implements near it. I am sure the Groundskeeper will be very happy to have some company!”
Mr. Broth quickly gives you the paper, with the name “Chilly” on it.
“Now, be on your way, don’t want to be late! Chilly is a very punctual pony, don’t want to get on his bad side…trust me. I’ll give him a call to let you know you are on your way.” You can almost detect a tinge of fear in his voice as he shoos you away with his hooves.
Mr. Broth was right, the Groundskeeper office was not very difficult to find, especially if you stick to the walls. Various farming implements are strewn about, like magic-powered lawnmowers, tractors and tillers. Hoses of various lengths and colors are attached to the faucets on the wall, attached to some sprinklers watering the nearby trees and fields. Judging by the atmosphere, it is very tranquil and calming. You can get used to this.
You walk up to the door, which automatically opens up for you thanks to the motion detector set on the top of the frame. You peer inside to see a rather large room, with some crates, a workbench, and more tools lining the walls. On the back wall is a monitor with various screens open, each screen showing what appears to be hall in the Stable. It’s as if this was like the Security station, keeping an eye in the sky to check for any trouble. In the center of the room there lies a wooden desk with guns and bullets littered on the top and a plush chair at the head of the desk, facing away from the door.
“So.”
You are startled. You didn’t know there was somepony in this room. Your eyes focus on the direction the voice came from, the chair.
“Yer the one Broth sent me, are ya? The ‘Pest Control’ pony from the C.A.T.?” The mystery pony queries, with a thick brogue. “Lucky, right? That’s rich. A pony named ‘Lucky’ getting assigned to this post. Sometimes, I think the gods love playin’ tricks on us.”
“Me name’s Chillblain, but fer some reason ev’ryone calls me ‘Chilly’. Like I am their friend o’ somethin’.” Chillblain takes a swig from a flask, which you probably assume is not water, from the smell of his breath when he talked to you. “YOU, on the other hoof, are going ta address me as ‘sir’. Not ‘Chilly’ or ‘Groundskeeper Chilly’ or ‘Silly Chilly’ or ‘Chillmeister’ or ‘Mr. Chill’, IT IS ‘SIR’. Ye'll maintain a level of professional respect, ye hear?” Chillblain points an accusatory hoof at you, to ensure he gets his point across. “Ya better hear, or else we’ll be takin’ a trip to the doctor to fix your spine after I break it in two.”
“I’ll have ya know I have been doing this job for over 50 years meself, as the galloping guardian of the groves, the pony protector of the produce, the only offense of the orchards against the enemies. The enemies, of course, are the eponymous ‘pests’ your C.A.T. calls. Let me tell you that these…creatures put the ‘pest’ in ‘pestilence’. The name ‘pest’ doesn’t do these monsters justice. It seems that over the decades the magical bombs that blew Equestria to kingdom come has twisted and mutated all the animals’ inta something unearthly an’ wicked. The insects became enormous, the rats have become ravenous, and all their tempers have become terrible. Good thing for YOU that I and all the groundskeepers before me have kept a record of the animals that have assaulted our edibles.” Chillblain hopped off his chair, and with a noticeable limp walked over to a corner of a room where he pulls out what appears to be a scrapbook of somekind.
“This here is a list of all the animals that we had to kill to protect our crops. Inside there is detailed information on their patterns, behaviors, and anatomy. I had help with our scientists to provide pictures of dissections if ya must know.” He opens up a page and shows you, and you immediately wish your breakfast to stay down in your stomach where it belongs.
“Ah…right. Yer only 12, if’n I recall. Well, I guess it’s the slide show fer ya now.”
Chillblain pulls you inside and plops you into a seat, closes and locks the door and pulls down a projector screen. You begin to wonder why he locked the door as he wears a serious look on his face.
“Now the slide show is what they might call ‘kid-friendly’, as it don’t have monster guts all over the place, but the teachers said it may be still a little frightening. Now sit tight and listen ta what I’m about to say, because I probably won’t do this again. After this, yer reading the book if ya need to ask somethin’. Here, take notes on this pad,” Chillblain states as he slams a pad of paper and a pencil in front of you. He dims the lights so the projector can show pictures, but is still light enough to write on your pad. With a click of a button, the first slide is a simple introduction slide, with the Stable-Tec mascot “Stable-Buck” spraying some generic aerosol on a bug, killing it.
“About a hundred years ago, when we opened the Stable doors to determine whether or not it was safe, we encountered a big problem. Apparently, just outside our stable door is a nest of roaches. And I am not talking little roaches that you see on the entertainment videos or on cartoons, I mean foal-sized roaches.” A click of a button shows a slide of a close-up of a roach taking up the whole screen. “And just so you know, that isn’t a close-up of a roach, that's its' actual size.” A chill goes down your spine. “From what my pa told me, as soon as the stable door so much cracked open, a swarm of these disgusting fellers flooded the stable. 'Twas a good thing they weren’t very strong, a full body stomp or a bullet from a BB gun could put them out of commission. Unfortunately, we did not get all of them because we still find them here in the Stable. After that mess, my pa told me the Overseers decided to open it again every 10 years, and with explosives prepared, because they nearly ate up our stock the first time.”
A click of button shows the next slide to be a praying mantis. You remember seeing these on a documentary on insects your class watched one day.
“Also actual size. These guys are giant sized versions of their ancestors, which were supposed to be helpful in killin’ other bugs. Well, they still do that, only they ain’t so friendly with ponies either. Half of the scratches on my body are due to the scythe-like blades attached to their forearms. They are fast, agile and can fly a bit, so they are a little bit harder to kill once they take to the air. However, thanks to the S.A.T.S. equipped on our PipBucks, which I will be teaching you about, taking them down becomes rather easy.”
Click. This picture is of several cute looking flying creatures of various colors. You sorta smile as you think you want to keep on as a pet.
“I know what you are thinking. ‘Aww, how pwecious, they are soooo cute, I wanna take it home, and love it, and pet it, and call him Snuggles!’” How does he keep doing that! “THINK AGAIN, BOYO. These are parasprites, BEFORE the megaspells went off. Even then, they were a menace to pony society. Their appetites were endless, and they multiplied faster than you doing times tables in your head! Now, brace ya-self, because I am going to show you what they look like NOW.”
Click. The second the slide appears, you practically regurgitate in your mouth, again. The parasprite looks like it was chewed up, digested, and thrown up.
“We dubbed these ‘bloatsprites’ for obvious reasons. It appears that instead of making them huge like the insects, it made them horribly deformed and shoots projectile vomit that burns like acid if it gets in contact with yer skin. Ya don’t want to find out what THAT feels like, it stings for days. Their appetite is still as large as their ancestors. They also happened to evolve into a second type of parasprite, which I will show ya…now.”
Click. Not as disgusting as the bloatsprite, but still unpleasant to look at. They are feral-looking parasprites, with orange veiny wings, sharp jagged teeth, and alternating black-and-color fuzzy coats, like a bumblebee of sorts. However, unlike the helpful bumblebees that aid in pollinating their plants, the parasprite has a nasty looking stinger the size of a hypodermic needle.
“These are paradores, named after the famous cowpony ‘Cazadore the Hunter’. The reason being is that these buggers are very predatory, they make the mantises look like herbivores. The other half of my scars are from the bites and stings from a nest of paradores we found. I almost died that day, but we had enough magical anti-venom potions to clean out my blood. Before then there wasn’t any use for them, so I was the first test subject. In case you can’t tell, it worked. Their flight path is very erratic and extremely fast. If ya happened to shoot down their wings, they still can move as fast on the ground. As I stated before, S.A.T.S is essential here.
“I can tell by the look in yer eyes that there is some disbelief on whether these creatures actually exist. Well, that means I am doing my job. I take great care in disposing of these mutants in a timely and aggressive manner, because if a nest becomes too big, they get all over the place and there WILL be casualties. Two hundred years of wear and tear will even make holes in these thick Stable walls, creatin’ openin’s for the buggers to enter and make cozy hives. My- OUR job is to find these nests and put an end to them as soon as possible.”
The lights in the room brightened back to normal, and the fan of the projector stopped humming as it was turned off. Chillblain furled the projector screen, unlocked the door and opened it to let some fresh air in. He began to pace in front of you.
“Tomorrow onward begins your trainin’ in Anti-Pest Maneuvers. This training will include gun handling, target practice, endurance exercises, explosives handling, basic first aid, and learning of patrol schedules. I will teach you how to make your own bullets, improvise explosives and use their own venom against them! I will shape you into their worst nightmare.
“What does this have to do with pest control? Simple, laddie…these aren’t ordinary pests we are dealing with! These are feral, dangerous, killin’ machines! Not of just fruit and vegetables but of ponies! Trust me when I say they CAN and HAVE killed ponies, as I have seen it happen with my very own eyes! I have lost friends to these despicable, vile animals, as they do not know fear, they do not hesitate and they do not know mercy! They just eat and eat and eat. I will drill these facts into yer soft skull every day until ye cannot stop thinkin about ‘em.”
You are shaking in your seat...is it fear? No, it is something else. Is it…excitement? Is it because you feel as if you have some deep-seated desire to do as this crazy stallion desires, to become the ultimate exterminator? To protect the crops your fellow ponies spend weeks, months and years to grow, to help your friend Tomato in the only way you know how, by defeating these ferocious and dastardly bugs though high caliber power? You begin to realize that you will probably see more action in this Stable than anyone in Security will, because they deal with the peaceful pony population. You, on the other hand are against the evil alien invaders of your home, on the side of justice, risking your life day by day fighting a foe that number indefinitely! You are startled as you feel a warm sensation on your flanks…this could only mean one thing. You turn to look at your side and you see your cutie mark, that of revolver silhouette and a targeting ironsight.
Chillblain looks at you with a knowing grin. “Well, we don’t hafta start tomorrow, seeing as you will be celebrating your cuteceñera.” He winks at you.
First a birthday, now a cuteceñera. It seems things are looking up.
Six years later…
You are in the stable alone. It’s that dream again, you fighting hoards and swarms of insectoid abominations, kicking major ass. You are using every weapon available that Chillblain trained you in, revolvers, pistols, shotguns, rifles and machine guns, killing every bug with pinpoint accuracy. You have S.A.T.S. down to an artform. You hear a screeching of a swarm down a corridor, you throw a tin can grenade out of reflex, giving the monsters only seconds before their explosive doom. More screeching, more grenades, more gunfire. You succeed. Everyone comes out of their rooms, cheering for you. Tomato runs up to you and hugs you. “My hero! I think you deserve a reward!” She slowly closes the distance between her and your lips and- BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!! Boom? You don’t remember throwing a grenade in there. That doesn’t make sense…then you panic. Everything is dark. Then thousands of glowing beady eyes appear one after the other, shining like deadly kaleidoscopes. Then the skittering begins, and it becomes louder and louder, the eyes become bigger and bigger and then they overtake you….
You wake up on the floor in a cold sweat, remembering the last moments of your dream. That is rudely interrupted when the emergency alarms are ringing, the klaxons blaring causing pain to your eardrums. You scramble out of your room to look for your father, but he isn’t anywhere to be found. Your train of thought is interrupted once again by the public address system.
“This is not a test! Emergency, Code Blue! The Stable Door has been opened without authorization! Code Blue! This is not a test! Please stay in your rooms, I repeat, please stay in your rooms!”
A Code Blue?! This never happened before! Who in their right mind would open the Stable door knowing what is out there! Unless, someone from OUTSIDE opened it somehow. Then you begin to panic; the radroaches, the giant mantises, the...paradores! You can’t stay in your room; you have to help Chillblain to defend the Stable! You put on your toughest barding, the one labeled “Pest Control”, a bag of tin grenades and grab your 20 gauge shotgun from under your bed. You race out of your room when you suddenly run into Tomato, looking pretty, despite being flustered and having bedhead.
“Lucky! What are you doing outside of your room, you heard what the PA said!”
You wonder the same thing, she isn’t even wearing any armor or carrying a weapon! Tomato takes a moment to look at you then realizes what you are up to.
“Oh, Pest Control! Geez, you’re right, you, Chilly and the Security are the only ones capable of handling any kind of hostile force entering the Stable, bugs or otherwise. I’ll head straight to my room, be careful, okay?” You nod as you gallop past her and toward the Stable exit.
As you approach the giant door you hear a familiar brogue arguing. Surely enough, you see Chillblain screaming his head off, veins visibly protruding from his head like a pop-up book.
“CLOSE THE BLOODY DOOR YOU EGGHEADS, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IS OUT THERE!”
“We are trying, Chill, but there is some kind of encryption that’s preventing us from doing so! We don’t want the bugs in here anymore than you do!” The pony at the keyboard was furiously typing away, trying to decode lockout.
“Ach…Ah, Lucky! There ya are! Hurry, we need ta secure the perimeter to make sure nothing gets in. That giant explosion top side will wake up who knows what…and where is the rest of the bloody Security?!”
Explosion? That explosion in your dream…the one that interrupted your…um, moment, was real?
Sure enough, Chillblain’s fears were coming true as the was a murmuring tremble increasing in volume. The sounds of many legs trampled toward the entrance, causing clods of dirt on the ground to shake.
“Oh, no…that heavy lumbering sounds like a huge swarm of radroaches! Lucky, open the box of frag mines I brought and start setting them up!”
“Mr. Chillblain, good news! We passed the encryption and can now close the door,” the pony at the keyboard exclaimed.
“THEN CLOSE IT, YOU DUNDERBRAIN, YOU ARE WASTING PRECIOUS TIME JUST TELLING ME! Keep setting up those mines, if we can take a few of them out at least they will be gone for good.”
“R-Right. Closing the Stable door! Please remain inside!
You manage to actually plant a dozen mines while that whole conversation took place, your hooves increasingly becoming shakier from both anxiety and the physical vibrations created by the radroaches. You hop inside as the alarm goes off for the closing of the door.
“Alright, fellas,” Chillblain addresses you and the other armed Security ponies. “Keep your guns trained at that door. Even though it’s closing, those roaches are slipperier than an eel covered in butter.”
The ground kept on shaking more and more, while the gap in the door grew smaller and smaller until finally, it was only a sliver. However, in that sliver you see the eyes of something you’ve weren’t expecting.
That is not a radroach.
The door closes shut, the mines behind it beep, then a dozen explosions go off surely decimating whatever is behind that super thick steel door into thin glue. You can hear whatever is not pureed running into the door, like bowling balls. That can’t be right…radroaches are big, but they don’t have any bowling ball sized body parts…
“Ach…I’m getting too old for this. I think I will need a long vacation at the bottom of a bottle,” Chillblain laments, but with a sigh of relief. The other ponies in the room agreed, and started to head back to their respective rooms. Feedback on the PA started with a whine and announced.
“Attention: The Stable Doors are now closed. Please remain in your rooms as we are doing a headcount. After noon, we will have a Stable Meeting in the Atrium.”
You return to your room, hoping to find your father there, but to your surprise, he isn’t there. You try to ask your neighbors in the hallway if they have seen him, but say no, with worry on their faces. To believe that Dr. Quantum would even leave his room during the emergency is unthinkable, but there could be some other reason he was still absent that you can’t think of on the top of your head.
The minutes turn into hours as you wait in your room for your father, even after the headcount pony has come and gone. Then finally, noon comes around and the PA turns on the second it hits 12.
“All citizens please make their way to the Atrium in a calm and orderly fashion.”
And so you go, to the Atrium with all your neighbors and friends, awaiting the news the Overseer has to say. The Overseer, you remember, was your old teacher Mr. Vegetable Broth, he managed to win the lottery for Overseer a few years after you did the C.A.T. You see he is on the stage, talking into a microphone on a podium. His dark green coat is contrasted by his light green mane, and is wearing a necktie for formality sake. However, instead of his cheery attitude, it has been replaced with a more somber, serious look.
“Good afternoon, my fellow ponies. As you know today, if you were awake this morning, there was a large explosion. It did not occur inside the stable, thankfully, but outside, on the surface.” This revelation caused quite a stir among the populace, even you are unsettled. “No one in the Stable was hurt, thankfully, but the crux of the matter happened not long after. For some reason, the computer which controls the Stable Door allowed it to open. Thankfully, we managed to close the door in time.” Relieved voices filled the audience.
“However, after tallying the headcount we have discovered that there are a few ponies missing from our Stable. They include our doctor, Quantum, our head engineer Spanner, and chief of security Hotshot. We have to go under the assumption that they have been ponynapped.” The noise in the audience elevated to great din, while you hear some ponies fainting. “In light of their absences, I decided to promote their subordinates to fill their positions. The next matter of business is, who is going to brave the outside to help return our friends?”
In one fell swoop, the audience became quiet. Is he serious? The Overseer is asking for volunteers to go outside? You look around and everyone is looking at their forehooves, shaking, which is understandable. Fear of the unknown is totally natural…even you are not that eager to step outside after what you just saw.
“I was afraid this would happen. It seems we have to use…the lottery.” A collective gasp fills the Atrium.
“Are you insane?!”
“You’ll gonna get somebody killed!”
“I don’t wanna die!”
“What do you think you are doing?!”
More shouts and objections fill the air as Broth is being verbally assaulted.
“Friends! Listen to me! Whomever gets chosen for the lottery will be given the best armor, medicine, food and other supplies for their trek. However, I am afraid we can only choose one pony, because we need to be careful seeing our head doctor, engineer and our security chief are all gone! We cannot squander any more supplies for more than one pony!”
This seemed to placate the citizens, if only for a little bit.
“I have set the lottery to only include ponies ages 18 to 35. This age range represents the densest population range in the Stable, according to the maneframe, as well as the most athletically fit according to physical records. I would like to say that I am really sorry that it had to resort to this, but since no one will volunteer, we have to select like our ancestors were selected: Luck.”
A computer on wheels was brought up on the stage, hooked up to a screen that revealed a list of all ponies ages 18-35. You see your name by chance in the middle of the list. “Okay everypony…as soon as I hit ‘enter’, the computer roulette will begin. I hate to say it, but…good luck.” Click.
Up to down the names were highlighted, like a waterfall of pixels darkening one line at a time, at first at a fast speed. You can sense everyone involved in the lottery were tracking the bar, that deadly bar of doom guided by the hand of an electronic god of fate. Was the bar going to slow down and stop? Or was it just going to halt after a random amount of time? As if an answer to your thoughts, the bar started to slow down to the point that you can track it rather easily than at the dizzying speed it was before.
Slower,
slower,
s l o w e r,
s l o w e r,
s l o w e r…
Stop.
“Lucky.”
The silence in the room was deafening. The proverbial pin has been dropped, thundering echoes in the Atrium. You know all eyes are on you.
“The lottery has chosen.”
“But, he just turned 18! You can’t just send him out there to die!” Tomato…you thank her in your mind.
“Yes, but as I said, 18 year olds who are physically fit. And, we all know he actually has some experience fighting, thankfully. If anything, he is actually the most capable out of all of us. Ironically, we had to have a lottery to choose him for us…”
“But…but…!” Tomato stammered.
“…I suppose we could have someone go with him, but we cannot afford to give them supplies…they have to supply their own.” The quiet audience betrays you…you want to confront their cowardice, but you can’t blame them…it’s a scary world out there, and Broth is right, you have experience. You know Chillblain would like to go, and you can see it in his eyes from here but as he acknowledged earlier, he is getting too old for this.
“COWARDS! …All of you…” Tomato sobbed as she ran out of the Atrium.
As promised, the Overseer Broth made sure you were given the most useful armor, weapons, medicine and food of your choice. He even gave you a large wad of money, honestly stating that it may or may not be of some use to you up there, but might as well take it just in case. Tomato came by stating she wishes she could come with you but sadly admits she would only be a burden, as she doesn’t know how to fight, but promises to learn while you are away. The most surprising guest was Chillblain, as you don’t ever remember him coming to your room to meet you in all the years you’ve known him.
“Hey kid. Ya holding up?”
You sit on your bed, despondent .
“Well, I guess that is understandable, considerin’. Listen, I…ya know I want ta go out there with ya, but I…I’m getting on in years. Scars are achin’ everywhere; limp is gettin’ worse every year. I think I will be wheelchair bound soon. They’re bad excuses, I know, but gettin’ old sucks donkey balls.” Chillblain chuckles sadly. “Anyway, I am here to give you a few good things none of those guys in Security can give ya.”
Chillblain pulls out a bag with some heft to it. “First off, I’m givin’ ya some specialized bullets. Armor penetration to pierce through tough shells, hollow point to blow apart flesh, and magic incendiary bullets to set ‘em on fire are in there, about a hundred for each kind of weapon ya got. Spent time makin’ them on days I was bored, didn’t know what I was gonna do with them until now.”
“Next, some high-yield tin can grenades, and their recipe. Instead of 30 grams o’ lead, I put 40 packed in there. More bang for yer buck, ya know?”
“Last, but not least, this beauty.” Chillblain pulls out a gun covered in cloth. Inside reveals a shiny black .357 custom magnum revolver. The handle is redwood with a black engraving of a heart, spade, diamond and a club on each side. “I made it so it’s a hair trigger and added a longer barrel so it shoots more accurate. The cylinder is also modified so you don’t have to maintain it so much. But just because I say that, doesn’t mean ya shouldn’t ya know. I wanted to call it Lucky, but that’d be odd to have a gun named after ya, so maybe you should choose its name.”
“Anyway, I just wanted ta say I’m proud of ya, kid. Ya didn’ hafta actually accept the lotto, I would have raised hell if it were me. But then again, yer dad is one of the ponies missin’ so I think this is the only way you could actually find out what happened to him. If it were anyone else, I’d be worried sick if I were ya. Instead, I will be worried about how you are gonna fare…so, buck up, and give those surface dwellers a taste of the ole Chillblain maneuvers, right? And when ya come back, and YE WILL come back, bring back some info on all the creatures that live up there. Gotta update the encyclopedia, ya know, and we can’t all live down here forever. Gotta spread the word, as they say.”
Chillblain stands up and pats you on the back before leaving. You could have sworn you saw a tear come out of his eye, but the day he cries would be the day the world freezes over, you rationalize.
Everything packed up and ready to go, you head toward the exit. You only see the door tech from last time, Tomato, Chillblain and Overseer Broth see you off. As the door began to creak open, you don’t hear any stampeding bugs, but you see what you thought you saw. And it is more horrible than you can imagine.
Scorpions.
The remains and bits of giant green scorpions that were the result of a dozen mines.
Everyone in the room goes wide eyed at the discovery, especially Chillblain.
“Sweet Celestia on the Sun…”
“Lucky…” Tomato holds her hooves to her mouth.
“Lucky. You know you could walk away from this, and no one will think less of you. We could set up a proper expedition, but that will take days…” Broth advises.
You ponder that option. But if it will take that long, your father will be dead, and he is the only family you have. You can’t take that chance. You rush into the tunnel, running over the scorpion goo and into the unknown. You hear the alarms ring as the door slowly shuts.
“Don’t forget the secret knock when you come back,” Broth reminds you. “Otherwise, you will be locked out forever!”
The tunnel leading to the Stable was well lit and the ceiling look like it was reinforced with concrete. There was lighting affixed to the sides of the tunnel, obviously to make the passage easier to traverse for those who came here long ago and those planning to leave. You also note holes that were dug into (or out of?) the walls, too small for a pony to fit in, but probably big enough for one of the pests you are familiar with. After a minute of walking, you see a door. A simple metal door with what looks like to be a knob on one side. It looks like one of those old doors you saw on the entertainment videos or in a children’s book. You slowly approach the door, listening carefully for any strange sounds on the other side, and when you are sure you hear nothing, you turn the knob and open the door…
…to find a kitchen? Well, that was anti-climactic.
You look around, it’s a pretty large kitchen, but you don’t know who could use a kitchen this large. Then you see a pair of double doors across from you with view holes to look through. You look through the door and see a bunch of tables, some upright, some upside down, some on their side. The interior decoration is pretty fancy, so maybe this is one of those “restaurants” people used to go to eat food when they didn’t feel like making food themselves. Seems kind of lazy.
You go through the doors and look around some more, and you see another pair of doors leading out. No holes to look through, though. Gotta go in blind. You walk up and push the doors to find a huge room that looks like it doesn’t have any particular purpose. Maybe it was a resting area? Wait! You see some papers sticking out of that magazine rack! You rush over and pull out the paper. It reads:Buffalo Billiard’s Hotel and Casino –Seaddle, Equestria -Food, Games, Beds, and a Pool! Brought to you by Equestrian Buffalo Reserve
Sweet Celestia. The Stable WAS built under a Buffalo Reserve! In Seaddle! That’s where all the games came from, straight from this casino! Well, I guess that’s one mystery solved.
After being boggled by that earth-shattering revelation, you notice something bright…ridiculously bright. Brighter than all the lamps in the stable put together. It’s from outside that door…which is literally…outside. The outside, OUTSIDE world. Not the outside, inside a casino world. Outside outside.
You can’t stay in here forever…you decide to go through with it. You slowly, nervously walk toward the door. Each step becomes heavier than the last; the beating of your heart makes it feel like the organ was threatening to jump out of your chest.
Only thing left to do is to open that door. Open it. Open it. Open. It.
The sky is blue. The sun is in the sky. Just like in the picture books.
The sea is blue. The smell of saltwater hits you in the face for the very first time. It smells weird. But it’s…calming.
You step outside of a boardwalk hotel and casino facing the sea and beach. To the left, you see a line of stores, and to the right you see a road leading landward and some houses.
Where should you go? To the sea? To the stores? Or toward the mainland?
Vote herehttp://poll.fm/3j5l4 http://luckysfate.tumblr.com/
Fallout: Equestria - Luck of the Draw
Fallout: Equestria- Luck of the Draw
Chapter 3: Bit by Bit, Bean by Bean
“I don’t have a problem with caffeine; I have a problem WITHOUT caffeine!”
After surveying your surroundings, you decide it would be best to explore the ruins of the boardwalk and its stores. You slowly walk upon the wooden walkway, wary of any rotting boards giving way. Two hundred years of sea air and lack of maintenance will probably corrode the nails and wood heavily. As you stroll down the path, you look to your left at the stores that make up the seaside. You notice that it’s not just a few stores, but the beginning of what seems to be miles of stores, all lined up like ducks in a row. You deduce that starting from Buffalo Billiard’s Hotel, the shopping district begins and extends into the city. However, you also notice there is a distinct smell of coffee in the air, and it makes it curious where it is coming from. Not that you have a problem with coffee or anything, it was served in the Stable and was a favorite for those who liked to pull all-nighters like your father. It was just odd that you smell it in the air…maybe somepony was in one of the stores brewing some?
You pass by the stores one by one, looking at their names as the boards creak under your hooves. It was kind of amazing, you walking on this path like ponies have done hundreds of years ago, going to the beach and shopping to their heart’s content. Some of the stores were boarded up, probably to protect the inside of the stores after word got out the megaspells were used, but other stores were actually still intact with windows unboarded. One of the unboarded stores was named “Fancypants’ Fineries”, showcasing some ponniquins wearing what used to be tuxedoes and dresses that have worn down by time and moths. The store sign featured a silhouette of what seemed to be a unicorn head with a moustache and a monocle. You assume that Fancypants was the name of the owner, although you find it funny that somepony named their kid “Fancypants”. The thing that captures your interest the most were the sets of jewelry in the display cases. You think those would have been taken immediately by ponies already living on the surface (as you assume there are since your father was ponynapped) but amazingly enough they are still there, shiny and sparkling. You get the idea that maybe you should take them, just in case somepony would be sensible enough to barter for it, or maybe use the jewels for some energy utensils, as you know they use them in the Stable. Plus, they are very shiny.
You walk in the door quietly, but a bell hanging at the top of the door startles you. You never seen one of those before, but realize it was probably there to alert the store clerks there was a customer entering. Putting that little crisis aside, you walk up to the display case which was, unsurprisingly, locked. Your ability in lock picking was rudimentary at best, as you never really had the need to break and enter anything in the Stable. Besides, you didn’t have any tools to pick the lock with. You decide to use your own brand of lock-pick: the 0.38 caliber kind. Using the blunt end of your revolver you smash the glass of the display case, hoping no alarm would sound. Luckily, there was none, or perhaps there was but it may have been powered by the electricity that doesn’t exist anymore. In any case, you all the jewels in the case and stuff them in your bag. You also decide to check the cash register for any bits that might have been left over. Once you get to the back of the store, you jump in shock as you see a pony skeleton lying on the ground where the clerk would normally be. You sigh in relief and regret for the poor soul who was just tending the store only to die from magical radiation. You begin to feel a pang of guilt from stealing from the store, but you rationalize that if you are to survive, you have to do some things like this, even there are remains of the dead lying about. You open the register to find only a dozen bits, pocket them and head out of the door. The bell jingles once more, as the door closes on the well dressed tomb.
The next opened store that was a block down was called “Quills and Sofas” and due to your inherent curiosity you take a peek inside. Sure enough, the only things that were stocked were quills and sofas, although, there was quite a variety. Sure, some of the sofa springs were jutting out of several of them and the quill feathers were practically just sticks with bits of feathers attached to them, but it was apparent what they were. A sale sign stating for every sofa bought came with 10 quills (that were worth one bit each) were free. You wonder how many ponies actually bought sofas, or wondered if this store had any business at all. Then again, this store was in business over two hundred years ago, so you think that ponies really liked their sofas and quills to take advantage of such a deal. In any case, you decide to test a few non-broken sofas, and decide that they are quite comfortable. Maybe when you return you can tell your Stable about this place so they can refurbish…after all, the last time they refurbished was when it was first created. You also snag a few of the high quality quill-and-ink sets, as you never know when you might need them.
You head toward the register and pray there wasn’t another skeleton behind the counter. This time, it was just some dusty clothes and a door labeled “Storage” and a computer next to it. You try to push the door open, but it is locked, probably by the computer. You push the on button and amazingly enough, it works! Maybe the Finery store was connected to another power source or this place had its own magic electricity generator, but in either case you have a chance to hack this computer. You connect your PipBuck to the computer’s interface to find the password to open the lock. Among the choices for passwords the words “Quill” and “Sofas” appear.
…
It can’t be that easy.
You type in “Sofas”.
The screen changes. You facehoof. It really WAS that easy.
The screen began to list a couple options including “Unlock Door”, “Unlock Safe” and “Re: Sale”. Unlock Safe? You look around and don’t see any obvious safes in the floor or the wall, that is, until you see the drawing of what may have been the owner, a stallion with a cutie mark with a quill and sofa. You wonder how long it took HIM to figure out his talent. You select the option to unlock the safe and then hear an audible “click” from behind the picture. You walk up to it, push it aside and sure enough, a safe is hidden behind. Opening the safe, you find a pile of bits, a few documents, and a faded autographed picture of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna with a quill attached to the picture. Wow! An actual picture of the Princesses! You take the bits and the picture and store it safely in your bag. It may not have any monetary value anymore, but it sure has some sentimental value.
You return to the computer to check the message “Re: Sale”. The screen changes to what appears to be a letter.
“To All the Managers of Quills and Sofas:
As you know, since the start of the war, sales on sofas have been going down, while quills have maintained a constant, which is surprising due to the invention of these new-fangled computers and memory orbs. Ponies still like to write the old-fashioned way, like myself, but I have had my secretary send you all an electronic mail to convey the urgency of this problem. In order to give ponies an incentive to buy our new sofas, I suggest a sale where we provide 10 free quills (each worth 1 bit) for every sofa they buy! Please put up signs in your stores and report to me any interesting results ASAP.
-CEO and Founder, Davenport”
Well, at least he was an optimistic pony, considering the end times. You shut down the computer and walk into storage room. Inside you see boxes of various sizes. Some boxes were large and wide, which you assume house sofas, while others were small, which undoubtedly held quills and their accessories. With this many supplies, you could refurbish the Stable ten times over! With this idea fresh in your mind, you go back to the selling floor and hop on to a sofa and begin writing with one of the new quills you bagged earlier on a notepad you brought from home. Then you have an epiphany; maybe this is what his cutie mark meant? Does his cutie mark reflect his ability to sell comfortable sofas to ponies to be while they write with his equally comfortable quills? It’s a stretch, but it is a possibility. In fact, this sofa is so comfortable that…you…want…to…sle-
You suddenly jolt awake on the sofa, feeling drool on the corner of your mouth. You fell a little embarrassed that you fell asleep on a sofa in a store that is nearby your stable, but you rationalize that a good nap is what you needed after so many things happening to you this past couple days. (You feel well rested, double experience points for a few hours!)
You climb off the sofa and walk out of Quills and Sofas, refreshed. You look around, and realize that the boardwalk is not exactly a straight path down the beach; it is actually curved, with some stores going more inland and others going out, causing some areas to be out of your line of sight. Then at the corner of your eye, you see what resembles a tail of a pony! Somepony is here! But you exercise caution; who knows how dangerous these surface ponies are. The pony hasn’t noticed you yet, so you crouch low to the ground and sneak up on him with your revolver in your mouth. You close in on your target, only to notice something odd: your Eyes Forward Sparkle isn’t picking up any life forms nearby, friend or foe. Even robots like the ones in your stable resonates a signal, so what is this mystery pony?
You are mere inches from him and you realize it isn’t a pony at all, but a life-sized figure of an earth pony mare with a crème colored coat with blue and pink hair and three wrapped candies for a cutie mark. It showed some signs of rust and decay, but overall if this represented a real pony you thought she was kind of cute. It was jammed in the doorway of a store, one with the name “CinnaBonBon’s”. You look inside the windows and see what appeared to be a bakery of sorts or a candy store, or maybe it was both. But what was more interesting than that was not what was in the store but the store next to it. It had a flashy look to it, which looked odd when juxtaposed to the homely bakery/candy store. It was called “The Lounge” and had a neon sign of a pony sitting upright in a chair. It looked awfully uncomfortable. Instead of going into the candy bakery, you wander into the bizarre establishment.
Inside, it looked like it was a club or bar of some sorts. There was a stage in the back, with tables and seats in front of it. Looking around some more, you actually see another door leading into CinnaBonBon’s! Was it some sort of joint venture? If so, you wonder if such a business combination was even possible. Some of the chairs in the club looked familiar, like they were from the Quills and Sofas store. Maybe this place was a big customer for him, at least for the sofa half of his inventory. The overall atmosphere was kind of gloomy, the air was musty (and still smelled of coffee), and cobwebs were all over the place. You begin to feel this isn’t the only place that is going to be like this. That is when you notice some stairs leading upward. Was this a two story club, or was there another store upstairs? There is only one way to find out.
You walk up the narrow stairs, which lead to a simple door which was slightly ajar. You hear a faint humming noise, like the sound of a computer that was on, and see light flickering within. You open the door and are surprised to find what appear to be some sort of living space, complete with a kitchen, living room, and more doors, which possibly lead to bedrooms. Perhaps the owner lived here. Your thoughts return to the computer that was buzzing, waiting to be used. On the screen appeared to be a few entries. Curious, you open the first one.
“Dear Diary,
Happy 10th anniversary! Today marks the 10th year Bon Bon and I moved to Seaddle and opened up our stores. Well, it was actually my store, she already had one of her chain stores set up here (which I helped build), but it was great that I was able to get the building right next to it. Talk about lucky! And, our old friend Davenport from Ponyville helped us out with the couches! Double lucky! Anyways, my idea to have a place where ponies can enjoy her goods and have some live entertainment has been a hit. Aside from me providing some music, we had the local flavor hired to advance their careers and get some advertising, therefore improving our reputation overall! But look at me rambling, I know this, but I feel like after 10 years I need to remind myself how good life has been, what with the war going on. Sigh, the war. I really don’t understand why can’t everypony get along? Anyway, Bon Bon and I have a dinner date tonight, and she is looking H-O-T! But not as hot as me, heheheh! Here’s to a decade of good times, friends and cheer!
-Lyra”
The entries immediately following it seemed to be corrupted, so you scroll down to find any more readable files. One was labeled “I AM SO MAD”. What could make this cheerful pony angry?
“Stable-Tec can shove a tree where the sun doesn’t shine!
Bon Bon and I got a letter today from them saying they’re ‘regretfully sorry’ they can’t admit us into one of their Stables! Bon Bon is a candy tycoon! So what if we are in a relationship, they can’t exclude us because we don’t want to make babies! I mean, I understand their logic, but we have a right to be safe as any other pony! I remember that brat Applebloom when we used to live in Ponyville, playing with her stupid friends, always causing trouble for the town! I swear, if I ever see her again, she will wish she was never born!”
Wow…Stable-Tec excluded ponies unwilling to reproduce? This is quite a revelation. You scroll down to see a foreboding entry titled “We’re all doomed”.
“Cloudsdayle has been destroyed…Canterlot is done for…all hope is lost. Bon Bon has been giving away food to those Stable ponies heading to the Buffalo Billiard’s. She is such a wonderful pony…sometimes I think I don’t deserve her…it’s only a matter of time until Seaddle is hit as well. I don’t know what we are going to do. Are we going to live? Are we going to die? We are far from the center of the city, but still, I don’t know…I am so scared. We have nowhere we can hide. As long as I have Bon Bon, I will be happy.”
There was one final entry, marked “Sorry.”
“So tired. Using recollector. To anyone who reads this, I am sorry. Goodbye.
-Lyra Heartstrings”
You stand there, feeling slightly disturbed at the last entry. Why was she apologizing? What is a recollector? You sigh as you turn off the computer, and begin to look around. You open one door, leading to the bathroom. Inside, there was a bathtub and a box with a cross and butterflies on it, and you recognize it as a first aid kit. Opening it, you find some well preserved healing potions and bandages, as well as some Med-X…or at least you thought was Med-X, only the syringes were empty. Oh well. You exit the bathroom and open the other door, revealing to be the bedroom. You freeze, as you see a large lump hiding underneath the covers of the bed. You notice it is not moving, but you cautiously pull off the cover. You wince, as you discover two pony skeletons holding each other, one a unicorn wearing some sort of tiara with a black jewel in it, and the other an earth pony. Curiosity getting the better of you, you take the tiara off the unicorn’s head and look at it from various angles before plopping it on your own head.
Big mistake.
You become paralyzed and the world fades to black.
=ooooOOOOoooo=
You become conscious again, but you feel weird, as you begin to move, but are unable to control the movements. You feel like you are sitting in a chair of sorts and in an uncomfortable position, yet it feels like you have sat like this for years. You are facing the computer you just turned off, confusing you greatly. It is then when you get off the seat that you turn to face a mirror and shock overcomes you.
You are a mare!
A sickly green unicorn mare, at that…with patches of fur missing, with clumps of white hair only attached to her skull, eyes sunken in and covered in horrendous ulcers. She is wearing the tiara you just put on your head just moments ago. Then you realize it hurts to even be alive! You feel so cold and achy and sore and dehydrated. You taste blood in your mouth, and your lungs feel like you are underwater as you can barely breathe. The pony in the mirror speaks.
“To whoever watches this, I am sorry. I thought this is the only way anypony can feel what I feel only days after the megaspell was set off in Seaddle,” she spoke wearily. “As you can probably tell, everything is pain. Dying instantly is better that having to suffer like this. Even with a couple doses of Med-X everything just hurts. I just thought everypony should know that I am the result of what years of fighting over stupid things like coals and gems has done to me. To everypony like me…to…Bon Bon.”
She began to walk to the bedroom and looked toward the bed. Inside was basically a paled version of the pony statue outside, resting in bed. The pillows by her mouth was stained with blood and vomit, her hair lacking the beautiful curls she once possessed, her breathing shallow, her eyes even more sunken in than the pony you are inhabiting. The smells of the room make you nauseous
“Bon Bon was outside when the megaspell hit, but I doubt that would have made much of a difference, seeing the way I am. But still, none of this would have happened if Stable-Tec…none of it…”
“Lyra,” Bon Bon whimpered. “Lyra, where are you? Are you talking to somepony?”
“Bon Bon! Don’t worry honey, I’m here, let me change your sheets…”
“No more…”
“What?”
“I…I can’t take this anymore…”
“NO! No…please, don’t say that,” your host pleads, hot tears welling up in her eyes.
“It’s okay, Lyra…I think I am ready to go.”
“NO! No no no no no! I’m not ready, I’m not! You can’t leave! You just can’t!” She cries, rushing over and jumping on the bed, holding Bon Bon’s face.
“Lyra….Heartstrings, its okay…I…We, led a happy life together…and even though I wish it had ended differently, I…” Bon Bon’s eyes began to shut.
“Bon Bon..?”
“I…I…” Bon Bon’s eye’s shut, and tried with all her might to smile her last smile.
Lyra just sat there, tears falling on her face, silently crying to herself, as you can feel her lungs wishing to jump out of her mouth. She slowly gets off the bed, lumbers to the bathroom and opens the first aid kit. You recoil in your mind as she takes all the Med-X that’s left and injects them in her forelegs and shuffles quickly to the bed and pulls the covers over both of them. The pain starts to numb and you begin to feel colder than before. Lyra holds Bon Bon in her forelegs, closes her own eyes, and breathes out a whisper.
“I love you, too.”
=ooooOOOOoooo=
You return to reality. Unsurprisingly, you are crying as well.
You decide to take the Memory Orb Recorder, along with Lyra’s memory orb once you figure out how to take it out. You replace the covers on the skeletons, close the door and make your way back out onto the boardwalk. You continue in silence for a few minutes when you notice the boardwalk takes a sharp left just ahead. Following the path that is laid before you, you make the turn and, once again, shocked by what you see.
Brown.
The sea is an odd shade of brown. The reason for this is apparent once you look further ahead. The land has curved around itself to form a bay area, and at the furthest point inland is a large building made of bricks and stone. A large sign reads “Starbucked Coffee Bean Packing Headquarters”. One of the large silos that you assume held coffee beans was submersed in the bay. It all made sense now; the smell in the air, the brown colored sea. The sea brewed into coffee! Then you notice another problem.
Pests.
Hundreds of them. Bloatsprites, Paradores, Radroaches….and are those ants? Giant ANTS? Dear Celestia, how can this possibly get any worse?
Then it got worse.
A crab like being crawled out from the sea and onto the fallen silo, walking on two legs and attacking anything it can get its pincers on. From the factory, radscorpions and the ants started fighting, biting and stinging, and you swear one of the ants breathed fire! More crab-things started to join the fight, more fire being breathed, creatures buzzing, screeching, spitting, gnawing, gnashing, bashing, and crushing!
You had to get out of here.
You begin to back up when a large CREAK was emitted from the board you just stepped on. All compound eyes turn to you.
Shit.
You pull out grenades and begin chucking them at their direction, hoping it will kill them or slow them down, when you also start shooting with your revolver, while running away toward the inner city. You hear stampeding insectoids chasing after you, and leave behind more grenades and fire off more rounds. You keep some extra clips in your wings for easy access and fast exchange…wait. WINGS! You can fly! Or you wish you could, seeing you were the ONLY pegasus in your Stable, so learning how to fly without somepony to teach you was pretty much impossible, not to mention the closed spaces of the Stable wasn’t air-space friendly. However, this is a fight or flight situation, and pal, you needed the flight pretty darn badly. You begin to flap your wings in desperation, hoping to get airborne as soon as possible. The hissing and clacking was getting louder by the second, your wing muscles burning in agony as you jump and flutter in the air. In a bout of desperation, you drop a low powered grenade at your hooves, hoping the knockback will push you into the air high enough to give you some sort of boost. With the bugs almost on top of you, you jump and flap at the exact same time the grenade explodes, launching you into the air.
You are in the air…free…as a bird…well, technically gliding, but at least you are out of reach at the moment. You look around with the bugs returning to fight amongst themselves to the East, the Buffalo Billiards to the South and unexplored lands to the North, West, and Northwest. Where should you go next?
Go decide Lucky’s Fate!
Level up!
Guns: 34-> 38
