Fallout Equestria: Last Days

Slowly, I walked through the halls of the Ministry of Wartime Technology. It was nighttime outside, and the few weak fluorescent light bulbs that hung from the ceiling offered very little in the way of lighting. I turned my head from side to side, examining each office that I passed. All of them were empty, their terminals deactivated, and desktop lamps extinguished. During the day this building was as loud and obnoxious as a circus, but when the sun fell and the moon dominated the sky it seemed to turn into a completely different place. It was a floating island of solitude surrounded by the intolerable bright lights and violent commotion rising up from the city of Manehattan. Even then, the whole city could be considered tranquil compared to the rest of the world.

While the brave soldiers of Equestria fought the hordes of mystical zebra, I had spent my time stuffed in various cubicles across the country. Safe from the war and death that followed it, my biggest concern only being the temperature of my bosses morning coffee. There wasn’t a single thing I would change about my life, I loved it that much. If Celestia herself came to me in person and offered to alter something about it, I would tell her to fly back to Canterlot and focus her magic elsewhere. Though as I approached the large double doors at the end of the hall, I reconsidered what I had just thought. Before entering I made sure my tie was straight, and my dress vest was flat. I was going to see my employer after all.

Opening the doors revealed a massive office. The walls were lined with book shelves, terminals, and paintings detailing rustic images of life on a farm. In the center of the room was a large wooden desk with a single terminal, and dozens of empty coffee cups. Behind it were two mares, one sitting, the other standing. The one who was standing I immediately recognized as Miss Applejack. The founder of the Ministry of Wartime Technology herself. From the light radiating from the lit lamp at the desk I could see she was wearing her trademark Stetson, and a long brown duster that covered most of her body. I couldn’t make out the other mare’s features, but I knew who she was.

“Ivory, is that you?” came the soft voice of Sweetie Belle. Hearing her say my name always sent chills down my spine. Not only did I adore the individual attention she gave me, but the tone of her voice alone could cause a stallion to fall head-over-heals in love with her. She leaned her head into the light to get a better look at me, in return I got a better view of her. She was just as beautiful as the last time I saw her. She had the same gorgeous white coat, deep green eyes, and curly pink and purple mane that I saw a few hours earlier when I escorted her to Miss Applejack’s office. If Celestia truly would personally visit me and make such an offer as to change something about my life, I would request that I may spend the rest of it with Miss Belle, my boss, at my side.

“Yeah it’s ‘im.” Applejack replied for me. “I assume you’ve come t’ take us to our Chariots?”

“Yes, It’s past one o’clock in the morning.”  the two mares looked at each other and exchanged a few whispered words before they turned their attention back to me. Both nodded theirs heads and began to walk out of the office. The familiar scent of MoI perfume assaulted my senses as  I joined Sweetie Belle at her side.

“How long will the flight take?” she asked me in her beautifully regal, yet gentle, voice.

“Not too long,” I replied. “You and Miss Applejack will be flying in separate chariots. We had to find ponies we could trust so I took the liberty of recruiting some old acquaintances and family members. A stallion named Featherweight will co-pilot your chariot alongside me. Applejacks chariot will be pulled by a Rumble Lane, and a Pound Cake. We will also be accompanied by two security officers, Chief Pipsqueak and Lieutenant Brown Sugar. With enough effort we can reach the Everfree Forest by dawn. Is that satisfactory Miss Belle?”

“Yes, very good Ivory.” was her only reply. I found it strange that her response had come off so mundane. I didn’t expect her to praise me like I was royalty, but usually she had a much more chipper attitude. Perhaps it was her way of coping with the current events. Having to leave your home due to the threat of a megaspell bomb could be awfully stressing. Or maybe it had to do with the conversation she had had with Applejack. They had tucked themselves away in that large office for hours. Whatever they had discussed must have been important, possibly stressing.

“Excuse me Miss Belle. If you don’t mind me asking, are you alright? You seem a bit…..off.”

“it’s nothing, just been a long day.” she responded without even looking at me. I could tell she was lying, she had a bad habit of not making eye contact when she was being dishonest. I figured it would be best to not push the subject further. After all, it wasn’t really my place as her secretary to pry into her private life.

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The crisp night air was enough to keep me from falling asleep as Featherweight and I flew Miss Belle out and away from the raucous city of Manehattan. I was glad to have the lanky journalist with me. He was one of the few ponies in all of Equestria that I trusted. Along with him being a friend of Sweetie Belle’s when they were younger, he was also an honest reporter. Without twisting the words and thoughts of those he interviewed, he delivered the news honestly and accurately. With the promise of a unique story (and a generous paycheck) recruiting him to work with me had been a breeze.

The other two pegasi flying Miss Applejack’s chariot were another story. Rumble Lane wasn’t somepony I knew personally, causing me to have little faith in his loyalty. Miss Scootaloo, another founder of Stable-Tec, trusted him though, and that was enough for me. I didn’t have a problem trusting the last Pegasus, Pound Cake. My concern for him lay in his ability to perform the task at hand without succumbing to anxiety strain. He was a very young stallion, barley out of colt hood. I had seen young ponies do extraordinary things before, but they had had pretty strong mettle. This son of a baker, however, didn’t seem to poses the same nerve. He was a family friend of Applejack, however, so he could at least be charged with keeping his allegiance to Equestria.

I risked a glance back at my two passengers. Sweetie Belle had wrapped herself in a long black shawl to keep the cold out. She held her leather handbag close to her chest, almost like it was a stuffed animal that would comfort her and keep the bad thoughts away. Also, her eyes were closed. Whether from weariness or fear of heights I wasn’t sure, but it added to the mystical aura that surrounded her. Chief Pipsqueak was positioned beside her. He stood stiff as a pole, and as vigilant as a hawk. Though there was no obvious threat present, I felt safer with him around. I turned my attention back to the flight ahead of me, reminding myself that I needed to stay focused to ensure the safety of my precious cargo. I had get her to Ponyville safely, or this journey would have been for naught.

Miss Belle was to be relocated to her hometown positioned on the edge of the Everfree forest. There she would have easy access to the massive bomb shelter, or ‘Stable‘, she had been assigned to. So on the off chance a megaspell did go off, she would be safe. This specific spot had been chosen due to its seclusion and relatively small population compared to bustling cities like Fillydelphia and Canterlot. It was possible that there was more to the story, something that the Ministry mares and Stable-Tec founders wanted kept secret. Whatever it could be, I wasn’t sure. Wasn’t like it was any of my business anyway, regardless of how close a friend I was to Miss Belle.

We had been flying for close to three hours. The excursion hadn’t put to much of a strain on me, but as I flew further and further away from Manehattan I could feel my muscles stiffen and my wings go numb. There was nothing more that I wanted then a few minutes rest. But, as I said before, getting Miss Belle to safety was mo-

“BANG!”

The sound of a gunshot rang through the night air like the fury of a god. Frantically, I searched for the source of the noise, but to no avail. Again, a gun fired. This time I heard the projected ballistic whiz over my head.

“Pick up the pace gentlecolts! We are under attack, repeat, under attack!!” shouted Pipsqueak as he brandished his 10mm pistol.

I beat my wings faster, pushing myself to get away from our hidden assailant. For a third time I heard a gun discharge a round. This time the bullet hit closer to its mark, just grazing my flank. Instantly, my side flared with pain. It felt like I had been cut with a rusty knife that had been heated in a scalding hot bonfire. The crude agony brought tears to my eyes, but I sucked it up and continued to fly.

As the attacker (assuming there was only one) fired off yet another shot, Pipsqueak responded with a volley of bullets from his pistol. It didn’t take a gun expert to tell that there was no way a small firearm could hit anything more than fifty meters away.  It was more of an attempt to create a suppressing fire, than to kill the deadly predator. Following his example, I pulled out my own sidearm and fired a few shots in the general direction from which the ballistics had been launched. Holding the .32 caliber pistol between my teeth, I pulled the trigger back four times with my tongue.

“BANG”

“BANG”

“BANG”

“BANG”

The gunshots rang like church bells in my ears. I wish I had spent a few more hours at a firing range, and a few less curled up in my bed listening to records. Then I would at least be used to the sound of a gun firing. I abandoned my attempt at supplying additional cover fire and returned my focus to evasively maneuvering the chariot away from harm. Again, I risked a glance behind me. Pipsqueak was perched against a railing, continuing to blindly fire his weapon. Miss Belle was nowhere in sight. I prayed that she had ducked down to avoid getting shot, and not fallen off the back of the cart. Returning my gaze ahead, I tried to spot Applejack’s escort. They were nowhere to be found; leaving me to believe that they had either escaped the firefight, or been shot down without us noticing.

Featherweight whistled to get my attention. He made a motion with his hoof pointing up, signaling me to fly higher. I nodded my head in confirmation, and began to raise our altitude. Suddenly my flesh wound began to flare up again. The reins of the chariot were pulling down on my back end, putting a lot of pressure on my injury. The pain was renewed in full, again bringing stinging tears to me already weary eyes.

Suddenly, time seemed to slow. I heard the assassin fire one more round. The bullet whistled over my back, missing my spine by a hair, and grazing over the leather straps that kept Featherweight attached to the chariot. It tore the fastenings just enough to cause them to snap from the weight they were pulling, thus freeing my co-pilot from the carts reins.

The instant I lost Featherweights support, the chariot became to much for me to carry on my own. Both my muscles, and my injury burned like balefire as I desperately fought to keep the cart from falling. The ground was like death, growing closer and closer every second. With the last of my strength I pulled up, preventing a head on collision with the ground. The carriage bounced as it made contact with the surface, sending the whole vehicle flipping over onto it’s top. My reins tore free of the wreckage, and I was sent sailing for several yards before landing in a shallow puddle. My head hit the ground first, and I was knocked unconscious.