H.A.R.M.O.N.Y (S.T.A.L.K.E.R. SoC MLP)

by Mr_Hollow

Rating: everyone
Tags: Random, Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 1092

You are a S.T.A.L.K.E.R but you are a pony. Simply put Ponies in the zone.

This is a second person story, written in the universe of S.T.A.L.K.E.R but with the people being replaced with ponies. Originally this was to be uploaded to my Deviantart account but I figured it would be better off here. This was started then I lost interest in writing it, which will probably change. The story is pretty much about OC's and some known characters in the dark, desolate world of S.T.A.L.K.E.R

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-11 03:30:27 UTC

Into the Breach

H.A.R.M.O.N.Y ...

Chapter 1 - Into the breach

The sounds of trotting echoes is heard in the darkness of the underground.

A light breaks the darkness, it's source growing closer, a stallion clad in dark leather. The light coming from his head lamp is blinding.

The stranger is an obvious threat, he speaks in a common Ukrainian accent "Stay right where you are, you move you die."

He raises his weapon, a Makarov. Normally you wouldn't have much to worry about from such a weapon but in your current state...you have alot to worry about.

The stranger chuckles, his tone over-confident, he says  "You are in quite a spot...aren't you, STALKER?"

You raise your hooves in surrender, he reaches down to grab your collar. You bring a hoof to his face and grab his weapon, you raise it to his head and fire two 9x18mm rounds into his forehead,

coating the wall behind him in blood and bits of brain before collapsing and passing out.

Time: 0540 hours

Location: Unknown

You awaken, not in a dark underground tunnel but outside, stripped of all gear but the clothes on your back, which is simply a thick leather jacket, a gas-mask, hoof caps and trousers.

After patting yourself down to find your worst fears have come true you yell  "Fucking son of a bitch!"

Even when yelling you cannot escape your accent, an Eastern Ukrainian and Western Herdiet Union accent. You look all around, the sun's just barely coming out. To the West a cloud front and not a friendly one. You stand up, brushing the dirt from your trousers.You begin walking east, towards the bright red ball of nuclear fusion, also known as the sun.

After walking for two hours or so you come across a military installation, but what's odd is it seems empty.

You get into a low crawl, attempting to be as stealthy as you can be to find that all the base's inhabitants have been killed. As you turn the corner you find a pile of looted corpses, wild dogs already beginning to feast upon the flesh of the slain.

You slowly creep past the beasts, thankfully they don't notice you slip by.

Upon entrance of a concrete building you immediately notice something odd, The desk against the wall sits next to a corner, leaving a small gap between it and the wall to the left of it.

You pull the desk away to find a small box, you open it to find a форт 12т (Fort-12) handgun along with a box of the standard 9x18mm ammuntion.

You sigh as you looks the weapon over in your hoof, "Eh...better than punching shit to death."

Upon examination of the weapon it appears to be in fair condition, you mumble a silent blessing, but before you can finish a low grumble errupts from your stomach.

You haven't eaten in what felt like days but you're not sure of alot of things now, all you remember is the gear you had before, the killing of the soldier and the darkness of the underground.

You make your way further east to find a poorly maintained road. You follow it north until you come across a damaged fence with a sign that reads "Не вводьте радіоактивної небезпеки." (Do not enter radioactive danger)

along with a smaller home-made looking sign that reads "Ласкаво просимо в зону".(Welcome to the Zone)...S.T.A.L.K.E.R."

Falling in Line

After a few hours of walking along you reach the first trading post for traveling STALKERS, you approach carefully, nodding to the two stallions by the door and proceed inside, upon entry all eyes are upon you. You look around at all the different ponies, DUTY group ponies in the corner to the left of the bar look at you then continue their conversation. You approach the bar, only to be greeted by the overly enthusiastic bartender with his loud, Russian accent. "Welcome to the 'First Stop Trading Post and Bar' STALKER! What can I do for you?"  As you're about to speak up, a black coated stallion trots over, shoving you over, his bullying swagger and poor posture lead you to conclude he's probably a bandit, well that and his black leather coat with red tally-marks stitched in above the right breast pocket. "Bartender, gimme some fucking drinks!" his words are slurred and he spits all-over the bartender, you shove him back towards where he came from only to have him stumble over his own hooves and spill onto the floor. "Asshole..." is all you manage to say before a hoof catches you in the face.

You stagger back but maintain your balance, you feel the warmth of the blood dripping from your nose. One of the bandit's buddies didn't like you shoving him. You see the pony who hit you help the other to his feet, with this you charge and return the favor with a hoof of your's into his face and before the other can react a swift kick to the face sorts him out, both lay on the floor. You turn back to the bartender and ask for some vodka to which he hesitantly pours into a glass for you. As you sip the vodka you feel all eyes fall upon you again along with the familiar burn of the spirit. You finish two glasses and buy some ammo before slipping out the door and back on your way. The corruption slowly sits in as the booze hits, you feel yourself fighting to keep your wits about you. You reach the edge of the forest as dusk falls and set up a camp, with what materials you can scrounge and a lighter you found on the road you make a fire on the side of a tree facing opposite of the forest's entrance, you lay back against a tree and slowly drift into a dreamless sleep. As you awaken two things catch your attention, the first is how damned cold it is and the second is the dull pain in your head. You struggle to rise but manage to force yourself up. The cold morning air and the drifts of fog floating about in the dim light indicate that it is early morning, around 0600 hours. You stagger out towards the opposite edge of the forest after hastily and sloppily destroying your former campsite. As you weave in between the trees and through the swamps you see the edge of the forest coming into sight, your goal is in sight. Ground zero, formerly known as Ponyville.