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"Let me go – let me go!" Sweetie Belle shrieked shakily, pushing with futility against the bars of her small cage. The abominable metal monster shook the cage viciously, causing her to fall silent almost immediately.

"Jesus Christ," Phillip Juarez swore angrily from beneath his power armor, bitterly dropping the small cage and giving his useless Pip-Boy 3000 a couple of violent pokes. Not that the action could damage it, of course; he'd been supplied with one of the older models, anyway – the Pip-Boy 3000-A. Apparently, not quite as durable and reliable as he'd been told it was, as he couldn't even receive a proper signal from the base. He shuffled the sawed off shotgun on his hip, picking at a scab.

"Piece of crap." Phillip grumbled, slapping around his thighs for the secondary radio broadcaster that he could use to get back in touch with his commanding officers. Jerking off his helmet for a little more breathing room, he seethed quietly. It was too much trouble, being yanked back to the real world through the 'teleporters' Enclave's research and development team had 'created'. In his opinion, they'd probably stolen it. It looked and behaved alien enough to be Russian, or maybe even Chinese. He frowned as he toyed with the broadcaster, flicking it on while the wretched creature in the cage wailed at him.

"Please, somepony help me!"

"Shut the hell up, would you?" Phillip yelled at the terrified unicorn, giving the cage another mean kick. Sweetie Belle whimpered as she was tossed viciously against the side, tumbling a few feet with the prison.

The unicorn began to cry again, but seeing the metal monster preparing to kick the cage again, she bit down on one hoof to stifle the noise. Grunting satisfactorily that she'd been successfully subdued, Phillip returned to his attempt at contacting the base and getting his labor over with. With as much 'data collection' as they'd had him do, it was a surprise he hadn't gotten cancer or something from being temporarily jettisoned into alternate dimensions over and over again.

It was also a surprise to Phillip when a foot was temporarily jettisoned into his face.

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I have to admit, I'm not much of a people person.

Ever since I was a kid, I just wasn't much good at talking to people. I always preferred to stay locked up in my room, toying around with different invention ideas and taking apart old machinery my big brother would bring back for me sometimes. Besides, it wasn't like anybody in the 'safe zone' had anything decent to say.

You would not believe how boring some people can be. Just talking and talking about themselves! It's insane!

Machines, though. I like technology, and I'm okay with animals. Mostly because they talk about as much as machines do. Don't get me wrong; machines talk plenty. They've got their very own language, their own programming, their own quirks and benefits, pros and weaknesses; they're great. Animals are kind of like computers, in that aspect.

So, you can understand why I might have been a little upset at seeing someone kicking the equivalent of a puppy right in front of me.

Sure, I could plainly see that it sure as hell wasn't a puppy. From the way it looked, I'd have guessed it was some kind of centaur-esque mutant. It took me a few seconds before I actually recognized it for what it was; I just couldn't figure out how in the hell one of those Enclave thugs managed to get their grimy hands on a pony.

And that's when I got the real surprise.

"Please, somepony help me!"

It talked.

That thing, that little white pony – a unicorn, at that – just talked. Perfect English.

And that slimy son of a bitch kicked her.

What else was I supposed to do but return the favor?

I waited until he'd turned away from her before making my move; from the outcropping above him, I actually had a pretty good line of sight, regardless of the way my crappy M-40 gas mask altered my vision a little. Calculating the trajectory, and gauging for my body mass plus the downward pull of gravitational forces in addition to my initial momentum, I was easily able to determine that the dropkick to the face really fucking hurt.

Tin Man went down with a squawk like a deranged chicken, and out colder than a box of ice cubes.

On the downside, I think I nearly broke my leg.

Tumbling off of the unconscious creep and wiping the blood off my foot in the sand, I started doing what I do best.

Scavenging.

See, I don't like people, but I like killing people even less. It's just not good for Karma, and that's one thing our mother always beat into our little noggins.

Sure enough, Enclave Boy here was loaded down with all sorts of survival goodies – radioactivity resistant packaged dry goods, a couple of dandy Stim-packs. And there's a point where I just say screw Karma, because I took the prick's water canteens, too.

… What? The bastard kicked a puppy! Er, unicorn. Whatever.

When I was done pillaging his unconscious body (god, that sounded wrong) I finagled a little keycard from him, which I guessed was for the cage. If it wasn't, well… we could see if the pony was dynamite resistant. Honestly, I didn't like the idea of blasting open the cage, but if it was necessary to bust the little thing out I'd do it in a heartbeat.

With that grim thought in mind, I turned to the poor frightened thing to consolingly provide the nurturing care of a much needed and incredibly macho silent guardian angel.

Only to discover that the little monster had magicked open the door by herself, and was holding a loaded shotgun directly at my head.

"Don't. Bucking. Move."

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Animal Friend - Animals will not attack one of their friends, unless the animal is threatened or attacked first. Exactly what an animal is in this world is open to debate.

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