Megaton, 2283

---

The town was doing well; So well that it was expanding for the first time in decades. Settlers from places out of the Capital Wasteland, such as the Pitt, the Cinc. the Decent Lakes, the Commonwealth, Richmond, and even as far out as New Vegas had flocked to the town to start fresh. Well, that was one of the reason. The big reason was because of one of the town's residents; Sam Ross.

The Lone Wanderer. The Crazy Kid From Vault 101. The Great Emancipator. Fallen Steel. The Courier. Some had even gone as far as to call him the Messiah. All titles he had earned throughout his short time in the Wastes. All titles he had been given after walking through hellfire and worse.

He was simply a man who had done what he though was right, but most saw him as a legend. He brought lean water to thousands of people, and dismantled an entire regime almost single-handedly. He who would walk out of Megaton's gate with his dog and return weeks, sometimes months later to someplace; Sometimes it was within DC, others it was across the country. He wouldn't say what he did, but stories about some mysterious do-gooder would come into town with the caravans a few days later.

Samuel Ross, who walked out of his vault a bright-eyed but determined boy, who had been reduced to a shell of his former self, only able to follow a prime directive and not much else. What he needed...was a spark.

---

Sam reclined on his couch, dog on his special rug beside him. He had just come back from a two-week long journey to the other side of the Lakes. His brown duster hung on a coatrack he had scavenged from the same house in Springvale he had gotten the couch from, along with his gas mask, American bandanna (the pattern was of Nifty Fifty, the fifty star American flag used from 1950 to 1965, and not the Thirteen Plus One), and his Stetson hat. His satchel sat on the small coffee table in the center of the pseudo living room. His weapons and extra combat armor lied in the two lockers, wear and tear clear on their surfaces. He would fix them later. The only weapon not with them was his Desert Eagle, which stayed in the holster strapped to his hip. His worn Vault 101 jumpsuit-the same that somehow survived six years in the Wasteland-was snug around his body, enhanced over the years with lining that shielded him from radiation and dissipated lasers better than most armor coatings.

A knock sounded through the house. Dogmeat's head shot up, his ears erect and listening. Sam dropped his hand to his head and scratched his ears, calming the dog.

"It's alright boy," He whispered in a low voice. He got up, groaning as his sore legs held up his weight once more. "You read the sign?" He asked through the sheet metal of his wall, one hand slowly pulling out his Deagle. He had heard the thumps of power armor at the gate, and the impromptu sign beside his door read 'No Brotherhood allowed'.

"Uh...of course!" The voice on the other side said. It was slightly synthesized, the vocabulator of a power helmet. In one fluid motion, Sam swung open the door, grabbed the handle on the Knight's T-45d chest, and pulled his face into the barrel of the Deagle. He sucked in breath as he saw the gun.

"Stand down, Sentinel!" A commanding voice ordered him. Sam looked up and twirled the Knight so he was facing them, putting the gun to his helmeted head. The .50 caliber bullets in the sidearm had next to no issue punching through his decent power armor at three yards; Any pull of the trigger would end the man's life instantly.

"Don't call me that," He told him in a low voice, "I resigned my commission the moment I learned what your brothers did." The man, in the same power armor as the other besides the helmet, scoffed.

"Those were the Outcasts, Wanderer!"

"Then now come the man who fired the first shot is walking around the Bailey without a care in the world?" He struck the man silent. He put down the pistol and shoved his captive in the back, sending him into the dirt.

"Where and why?" He asked, putting the hand cannon in its holster. He figured that they were talked to by Harden, and had a damn good reason to be here, asking him to trudge into the Wastes for the Brotherhood. Arthur sighed; he was always so blunt.

"A newly discovered Enclave outpost northwest of Raven Rock," He told him, "Probably the last before you go past the Lakes." His hand curled into a fist automatically; His hate of the Enclave hadn't waned in the slightest since that fateful day in the Jefferson Memorial.

"Meet me there at midnight." With that, he turned around, marched into his house, and slammed the door. Arthur sighed, and gestured to the soldier. He nodded and jogged out of the gates, telling the pilot of the vertibird outside to prepare for takeoff. Arthur sighed, burying his face into his gloved hand.

Despite being at the job of Elder for only two months, the sixteen year-old was already sick of working with the Lone Wanderer.

---

Arthur dropped out of the vertibird, crouching and scanning the Wasteland for threats. He began moving to the Enclave outpost at a brisk pace as the vertibird flew off. As he got into sight of the outpost-maybe 100 yards away-a blade shot out form behind a rock and nearly cut his head off. He stopped instantly. The wielder-in a cowboy hat-watched as the Brotherhood vertibird flew over the small black dome, its occupants giving no reaction to it. Either they realized it was Brotherhood and their lives were over, or they assumed that it was Enclave.

"Real sneaky, Maxson," Sam scolded in a whisper, putting his unignited shishkebab away on his back. Dogmeat growled a little, but did nothing else. His scoped hunting rifle was on his back along with his special assault carbine and shishkebab, and his Deagle and M1911A1 were in their holsters. A .44 magnum was strapped to his lower leg, and a knife under his duster and under his bicep. A 10mm pistol was strapped across his chest, but as long as Arthur had known the Wanderer he had never shot it.

"I can't walk across the entire fucking Wasteland in power armor!" Arthur shot right back as he leveled his laser rifle up.

"Then don't-" He stopped to watch two power-clad Enclave soldiers march around the small hill the dome was situated. As they disappeared around the other side, he grabbed Maxson's shoulder. "Run." And with that he was sprinting towards the enemy, his dog on his heels. Arthur didn't waste time to grumble, simply trying to follow him as fast as he could in the power armor. He watched as Sam began to climb up the side, and mimicked it, his own strength the only reason why he made it.

They both slammed their backs into the steel of the dome, knowing that the thickness could cancel sound and (hopefully) vibration. Sam pulled his bandanna down and pulled a gas mask out of his satchel, a gas mask that Maxson recognized as a M50, but this one had a tinted red visor. He crouched down and put a smaller one on Dogmeat's muzzle after putting his hat back on. He looked to the top of the dome, then to the Brotherhood Elder.

"Stay here and-" He pulled out a thermite charge from his satchel and handed it to him. "-Blow it when I blow it." He turned and began creeping around to the other side. Arthur shrugged and planted the thermite on the wall, and began thumbing the detonator. Maxson noted now different Sam's voice sounded with his mask on-much deeper and more commanding. Must have been a vocabulator he had installed at some point.

As soon as he saw sparks fly from the roof of the dome, Arthur activated the thermite and prepared for it to blow.

Wait, the roof?

All three thermite charges blew at the same time, and Arthur charged in with mechanical precision, ready to blast any Enclave that were ready to blast him. But there weren't any Enclave ready to blast him; All of the Enclave personnel, soldier and civilian scientist alike, were on the ground convulsing and clutching at their throats. That was when Arthur noticed the green cloud that covered their bodies.

He quickly reached up and activated his reserve oxygen supply, while at the same time pressurizing his suit. For the next hour, he would be able to breathe even in the vacuum of space. He looked to Sam, who was looking down on the dying Enclave. Dogmeat was pawing the body of one power armored soldier that didn't seal off his suit in time.

"Poison gas?" He asked him, "Are you serious?" Sam returned his stare.

"They deserve far worse than this." His voice was now cold and emotionless. "You wanted me to do this for you, so I'm doing this my way." He slowly walked towards him. "Either work with me, or get out of my way." His hand was on his Deagle, who hadn't been pulled out of its holster yet. Arthur slowly nodded, a little more afraid of the man than he once was.

The two spent the next hour clearing out the surprisingly extensive Enclave installation, which apparently descended for three stories. While Arthur kept to the more quick and practical kills-laser blasts to the head or chest-Sam was keeping them as painful as possible. He pulverized the kneecaps of one Enclave soldier with two shots from the Deagle before putting him out of his misery with his M1911, which was loaded with FMJ rounds for this mission. He shoved his ignited shishkebab through the stomach of another one and waited for a minute as the heat cooked the man alive from the inside. A rather disturbing but one doubt creative kill he had was slamming the head of a scientist into the side of a doorframe then closing the Vault-like door, her life ending in a couple of snaps and a short but horrifying scream. The woman's bones splintered, and Arthur could see the bone marrow oozing out of her bones as the door opened and they walked through it.

The two slammed their backs into the wall right next to the last door. Arthur put his hand on the activation switch. He looked to the Wanderer, who had his assault carbine in his hand. He nodded, and the switch was flipped. Sam dashed through the door with the skill of the Old World's special forces, and sent three AP rounds into the heads of the three soldiers that were crouched behind barricades. The only Enclave left alive was one scientist in a pristine lab coat. Sam quickly holstered his rifle and marched up to him. As the scientist turned around, his throat was quickly grabbed by the Wanderer's hand, who lifted him up in a very Darth Vader-like way. He and Arthur looked to the two skeletal arms wrapped in wires holding up a large device that looked similar to a power conduit in the center of the large chamber they were in.

"What is that?" Sam asked in his warped voice, looking to the scientist.

"T-trans dimensional..." He gasped for air after choking out the words. Sam sighed and dropped the scientist, who fell backwards and onto a terminal on a high table. He clutched his throat and coughed. "A trans-dimensional portal."

"Why?" Arthur asked as Sam walked to the device to study it. He didn't take his eyes off of it as he knelt down and took the gas mask off of Dogmeat's muzzle.

"We were trying to crack teleportation," The scientist explained, "We thought that trans-dimensional transportation would be a good stepping stone."

"You were wrong," Sam said in the center of the three arms, Dogmeat almost wrapped around his legs, "Teleportation is transporting an object from one place to another atom by atom in a very small window of time. No living thing can survive it, doesn't matter what protection it has. Second, a dimensional portal is simply ripping a hole in the time-space continuum without destroying the entire universe. And third..." He held up his arms, gesturing to the whole thing. "This is about as ramshackle as Megaton's walls." Behind his quiet and rather brutal demeanor, Arthur, who had been also studying the device (only from a safe distance), had forgotten how ridiculously smart this man was. Having a bionic brain might've helped, but his father was also, as Rothchild had once put it, 'The most brilliant scientist of his generation'.

The Enclave scientist furrowed his brow at the insult to his work.

"Do not call this achievement junk, you dirty wastelander!" Sam smirked under his mask.

"Look at the Vault suit, you-" He turned around and saw the scientist tapping few keys on the terminal, pulling a 10mm pistol from a hidden holster and firing at the man and his dog as he did so. The four bullets he fired missed, but they all imbedded themselves into the exposed circuitry of the portal. He quickly pulled his Deagle and fired as the scientist pressed enter. The bullet tore his head apart, but a moment later a clear tube materialized and surrounded the device, along with Sam and Dogmeat. The next moment the device began shooting blue arcs of energy all around the top of the tube, along with a multitude of sparks.

"Sam!" Arthur shouted, running up to the tube and looking it over for a moment. He punched it with all of his might, but it only gave him sore knuckles. He pulled out his laser rifle and shot it a few times, but the beams of energy curled around the entire surface before dissipating, not even leaving a scorch mark.

"Arthur, stop," Sam ordered as Dogmeat whimpered, pawing the tube, "It's no use." He tore off his gas mask and hat and looked Arthur in the eyes-well, his visor.

"I didn't want to go out this way, with me and my dog's atoms spilled into subspace. I was supposed to die fighting to make the Wastes a better place. I had so many wrongs to right, people to meet, slaves to free..." Tears were building up in his eyes. "I want you to promise me that you will do EVERYTHING in your power to fulfill my dream." Arthur took off his helmet, tears leaking out of his eyes.

"I will, Sam," He said in a higher-pitched voice than normal, as if he was regressing back to his ten year-old self, "I promise."

"Thank you," He replied, bending down and picking up his gas mask and hat, which went to his satchel and head respectively. "Then I accept my reinstatement as Sentinel of the East Coast Chapter." Arthur smiled through the tears. "And who knows? We could still see each other again. Someday."

Dogmeat let out one 'aroo?' in confusion before they were enveloped in a flash of blue.

---

Footnote: Level Up

New Perk: Transdimensional Reset-being sent to a different dimension means a fresh start. You are back to level 1. All perks and skill points are kept.

Inside the swirling storm of energy...Dogmeat was doing fine. He was spinning in the ether without a care in the word, his ears deaf to the screams of pain coming from his owner.

His body was constantly being pulled apart and put back together, each time in a different form. He was turned into a strange blue, cat-like person, then painfully molded back into a human. He was morphed into a very large slug, but changed back. His body shifted into large white, blocky creature before being shifted back. Finally, he was turned into an equine with a horn sticking out of his head and wings out of his back, with all of his clothes and weapons changed to fit to his new body.

This will do.

Sam forced his eyes open, and regretted it. The blue and light purple of the strange realm he was in burned his eyes with an intensity greater than a star, and he couldn't close them. He felt his new horn get a strange buildup similar to an impending orgasm, only replacing the pleasure and imminent semen with intense pain and green lava. His hindquarters lit up as he thought in his pain-dulled mind that flaming hot knives were carving into his hide, making a grotesque picture. His back felt like it was abut to split open as the wings fully extended, ripping the muscle underneath. Finally, as a climax to it all, he felt his flesh melt off of his bones. As if adding insult to injury, his bones disintegrated, the particles scattering into the cosmic waves.

Dogmeat had a similar experience, but without the pain.

The two were thrown out of a sheet of blue and into the dirt. Dogmeat slid on his belly and quickly stopped, allowing him to see his owner tumble end-over-end across a large patch of rocks. While he didn't break anything, it was incredibly painful.

Sam groaned as he lay face-first in the dirt, eyes flickering open and closed Dogmeat padded over to the incapacitated Wanderer, licking his face.

"Ah, hey!" He exclaimed in a low voice, waving his hoof in front of the dog to send him, "Fuck off, you stupid mu-" Hoof. He opened his eyes and looked to his hand. It was instead a grey hoof.

So that last part of his life wasn't a dream.

He slowly got to his fe-hooves, of which he had four. He looked around his body, and saw that his apparently fur coat was a dark grey, about two shades away from black. His duster remained mostly the same, with the leather pauldrons on his shoulders still there. His hat's brim now had a hole where his new horn shot out of, with plenty of room to adjust it if he saw fit. He looked to his hindlegs and back, and saw that all of his weapons and his satchel were still there, as well as a pair of blue wings. He breathed a sigh of relief; It would've been a very bad thing if his things were gone, especially the satchel.

His Vault-Tec Bottomless Satchel was the only one in existence. It is the only human device in all of history that utilized pocket dimensions. It could hold quite literally anything as long as the user could hold it. As of right now, Sam had about 500 pounds of materials, from Stimpaks and ammo to extra armor and disguises.

Sam took a look at this surroundings. It was night with a heavy cloud cover, blocking out whatever moonlight there would be. He followed the clouds to a large mountain in the distance, and noticed a dark blob on the side. He looked closer, and saw that it was a city-or once was. His immediate area was a few trees behind him, and a wide sweeping desert all around him. In the distance was the skeletal remains of a town. He could see craters from long-detonated bombs all over. He held back a tear of emotional exhaustion. He had hoped that he would get lucky and be sent to a paradise, or at least somewhere that wouldn't have him fighting tooth and nail every second for the right to exist.

Instead, he had been transported from one Wasteland to another.

He shook those thoughts out of his head and looked down to his new limbs. He needed to learn how to move.

"Okay," Sam said breathlessly, "I can do this." He took his first step, his left foreleg, then his right leg. Within two minutes (thanks to his bionic brain) he was trotting. He smirked, circling around Dogmeat while he barked happily. He stopped in front of the dog, wiggling each of his new legs.

"Now I know how you feel, boy," He said. He looked up to the point of his new horn. He remembered vividly the lava shooting of his horn. His first thought was magic, or something similar. And since he didn't think he could get to lava throwing anytime soon, so he tried telekinesis. He saw a rock the size of his dog's head a few feet away. He aimed his horn at it and began concentrating, trying to use the feeling in his horn that felt like an extra limb.

Within a few minutes, a dark green hue surrounded his horn. Sam grinned as he saw the rock become enveloped in the same hue and slowly rise into the air. His grin vanished as he felt his control slowly ebb away. His magic suddenly imploded, but instead of falling to the ground like it should, the rock was sent into a cloud with the speed of a bullet. Sam stared at the point where it vanished.

"Hmph," He grunted, trying to unfurl his wings. They were much easier to control, and they responded instantly. Dogmeat cocked his head to the side in confusion; he hadn't noticed the wings before.

He gave them a few experimental flaps, and let out a 'woah' when they almost sent him into the air. Remembering how the ravens back in the American Wastelands flapped after he disturbed their feast of decomposing wastelander, he gave the pattern a try. He flapped in a quick beat, and he was sent about six feet in the air. He tried moving his wings to go forward, and it surprisingly worked. He began to circle his bewildered dog, descending slowly. After he hit the ground, his wings tired, he was assaulted by Dogmeat's nuzzles and licks. Sam smiled and pat his head, careful not to crack his head open with his new hooves.

"Interesting," A voice said. Immediately, Sam pulled his Deagle out with TK and Dogmeat lowered into a pouncing stance, teeth bared and growling. Sam was surprised with himself on how fast and efficient his magic automatically reacted, but cleared those thoughts out of his head.

"Show yourself!" Sam exclaimed. His eyebrows cocked as he saw a floating robot that looked almost exactly like an eyebot (minus the four rainbow insect-like wings and the two glowing green eyes behind the grille) floated from behind the husk of a scorched tree to their left.

"I'm Watcher," The eyebot greeted, "And I'm not going to kill you." Sam narrowed his eyes, but put his Deagle away, raising a hoof in Dogmeat's direction to calm him. eyebots were never a problem back on Earth-that was assuming that this wasn't-but he kept his guard up. He wasn't too sure of this thing.

"Then why are you out here?" Sam asked, "Watching?"

"Yes," He replied. Sam grinned and nodded. He liked this thing, or whoever-or whatever-controlled it. "Where did you come from?"

"Don't think I'm from around here?" He asked.

"I saw you and your dog pop into existence from a blue cloud, and I've never seen a male alicorn." So now he knew what his new species was called-or maybe subspecies, he didn't have a clue. Since Sam didn't have any reason to lie, he told the bot the truth.

"I'm from another dimension," He told it, "I was trapped into a teleporter and sent here. I felt my body...morph, and shift, and this was the last one before I was spit out." Well, half truth, but he would keep his reasons as to how he got there to himself.

"Interesting," The robot repeated. He paused. "I'm assuming you need a place to get your bearings then." He started to float toward the town.

"You could say that," Sam replied, walking with the robot. Dogmeat followed both subconsciously, his nose in overdrive with all of the new smells.

"Then there's a place to get your bearings," Watcher told him, looking to the town, "Ponyville." Sam snorted.

"Hell of a name," He joked. He let out a quick whistle, and Dogmeat got his nose out of the dirt and to his side. "Thank you for the advice, Watcher." He began to walk towards the ruins. The eyebot seemed to pause.

"Y-you're just going to trust me?" He asked, bewildered, "The advice of a stranger? I could be leading you into a trap!" Sam waved his wing from behind his back.

"I can take it," He called out. Watcher let out a grunt of amazement.

"It's a raider's nest!" He told him before his time expired. Sam's ears perked up as he heard music similar to back home begin to spew from the robot. He turned around and saw the eyebot float away. He shrugged and looked down to Dogmeat.

"Schneller," He told Dogmeat. The dog began to speed up, jogging. Sam was at his side at a brisk trot, both of them scanning the surrounding area for threats. Sam didn't expect much from this little raider base-at most a hundred caps worth of weapons and armor, maybe a few captives to free, and hopefully a little information about this new Wasteland.

What he didn't realize was that he was about to completely disrupt the fate of another Vault Dweller.

---

Sam and Dogmeat kept their bellies low to the ground as they crawled through the dead underbrush. Sam was performing recon of the base to get a feel of how the raiders were in this new wasteland. So far, the raiders were two different subspecies-plain horses and apparent unicorns-had barding made of similar materials that the ones back home had, and were slightly more insane. He had made his way into a beauty shop of some kind and saw dozens of persevered and mutilated cats hanging from the ceiling. From the top of the building, he could see a sniper setting up shop on the balcony of some kind of structure that looked exactly like a tree-or was a tree.

Doubling back, he and Dogmeat crossed the river, Sam holding the dog in his forelegs as he glided from one edge of blackened vegetation to another. Sam had climbed a tree while Dogmeat lay at its base, pulling out his .308 hunting rifle from his back and wedging it between two branches. He put the butt into his shoulder and moved the gun around, making sure it could swivel correctly. Seeing that it did, he peered into the scope.

The bridge was a maze of barricades, with the heads of two decapitated horses skewered onto the spikes at the entrance. At the gates, two horses in heavy leather barding were talking to a raider on the ramparts. One of them had a double-barrel shotgun; that was probably the source of the bang he heard while coming over. He looked further down the road behind the two and saw another in similar garb with a spear in his mouth. He had his back turned to two more horses...in chains.

Slavers.

Sam's blood boiled as he used his TK to begin to squeeze the trigger. He looked to the two captives, both of them unicorns. One was seemingly male with beige fur, while the other was definitely female, with a smaller stature compared to what he had seen so far. Her horn was slightly glowing, and Sam could see a bobby pin and screwdriver going at the lock of the shackles she wore. That was when he noticed her Vault barding, and the Pip-Boy on her right foreleg.

Her shackles unlocked, and fell with a thump. The slaver guarding them heard it, and rounded on her. He would've caved her head in if a large gunshot hadn't erupted from the gates. The slaver looked to the bridge, but Sam already knew that the situation had turned sour. He pulled the trigger, and the slaver's head exploded, showering the vault dweller with blood. From the look on her face as the blood seeped into her grey coat, Sam knew that these were her first hours outside the vault. She quickly shook her head and continued to unlock her shackles, while Sam turned and watched what was transpiring at the bridge.

The unicorn with the shotgun was the last one standing, taking cover behind a barrier. He levitated his shotgun over the top and fired, hitting a wounded raider that was staggering in the open. The horse jolted as the buckshot hit him and fell. The slaver peeked over to his what he did, a raider that circled around him filled his body with two slugs from a combat shotgun.

The surviving raiders on the bridge cackled as they stepped over the bodies of the fallen. The unicorn had the combat shotgun that he killed the last slaver with, and the other had a sledgehammer in her teeth. The vault dweller had unlocked herself and was working on her fellow captive when she stopped out of fright.

"Looks like we got ourselves some prizes!" The unicorn shouted in glee, the other laughing behind her sledgehammer. The dweller seemed to have asked the raider a question, most likely a plea for help. Naïve fool.

"Oh, I'll help myself to, alright!" The raider kicked the dweller in the side, sending her to the ground trying to catch her breath. She kicked her again, making her howl in pain. Meanwhile, the plain horse was going at the other captive with a sledgehammer. Sam cringed as he heard the wet wack, then saw the captive cough up blood. He lined his crosshairs up with the unicorn's head and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, but it only took a moment for Sam to remember. He quickly worked the bolt of the rifle, chambering the next round in. As he did that, the unicorn shifted her attention from the vault dweller to the other horse. It was obvious they were going to beat him to death.

"Hold his leg out!" The unicorn shouted, leveling her shotgun to the poor man's (or should it be stallion's?) leg, "I'm gonna shoot his hooves off!" Sam fired, and her horn was taken off at the base. She screamed and fell to the ground, clutching her head. Both the dweller and her fellow slave her froze in shock. The sledgehammer raider took a quick look around and settled on his spot for a second before the other slave wrapped his chain around her chain and began choking her out. Sam didn't give him the chance, sending a bullet through her right eye and covering him in brains. He shifted his aim to the unicorn he crippled, who was at spear point by the dweller. She was snarling like a cornered animal. Sam put her out of her misery, blowing out her esophagus with one shot. The vault dweller jolted back as her neck exploded and she fell on the ground convulsing, but shook it off. She went over to finish her work on her friend, but Sam beat her to the punch. Activating VATS, he sent a .308 round through the lock of the shackles, barely missing the slave's foreleg. The cuffs flew apart.

Sam pulled the bolt back and exchanged slips for his hunting rifle, satisfied of what he did. Unfortunately for him, they heard him reloading and looked to his spot in the tree. He desperately wished for his stealth suit, which he had lost in New Vegas. Suddenly, his horn glowed, and his figure became transparent. Light bent around him, he was invisible. The two stared at him for a few moments more before shrugging.

---

Sam landed on the ground with a thump, reappearing as his hooves hit the ground. Dogmeat's ears swiveled to his direction, but other than that he didn't react. Sam smiled. He trained him well.

"Come on, boy," He whispered, nudging the dog, "Over the river." Dogmeat got up and followed his master as the two stealthily made it through the decaying vegetation. As the two glided across the river, the railing of the bridge beside them exploded. Sam flapped his wings and got him and his dog into cover quickly, the tree they landed beside exploding into dried pulp as it was hit.

Sniper.

"Aktion!" Sam shouted, storming out of the brush with Dogmeat at his heels. He almost ran over one of the slaves he rescued, the vault dweller. He slid on the dirt, overturning a rotting wagon while doing so. The sniper's bullet ripped a board off of the top. Then the other raiders opened fire, they're lower caliber bullets not making it through. Sam sighed as he pulled his gas mask out of his satchel and over his face. Mostly for intimidation, but a little for any kind of magical gas attack any of them could procure. As he put his hat back on, he saw the dweller out in the open, gawking at him and Dogmeat like a fish. His instinct was to pull her into cover, but his new magic had other ideas. A green barrier formed around her, cracking as a large caliber round from the sniper slammed into it a moment after it was made.

"Get to cover!" He shouted at her. The command snapped her out of trance. She shook her head and quickly looked around for a suitable piece of cover, settling for a circular building. She dove inside nd closed the door right before several bullets slammed into it.

Sam smirked behind his mask, pulling out his assault carbine and his Deagle. He looked to his dog.

"Ready, boy?" He asked, though it was mostly rhetoric. Dogmeat still barked. Sam hopped over the wagon, Deagle aimed at a raider in the middle of the street. The raider almost pissed himself. Sam's wings were flared, his horn was surrounded by the same dark green that his assault carbine and large pistol were in, and his face was concealed by the most horrifying mask he had ever seen.

The gun fired.

---

Footnote: Level up

New Perk: Cleanser-You are becoming adept at killing the scum of the Wastes. Damage to all evil characters increased +10%

Littlepip woke up from her slumber, sunlight getting into her eyes as soon as she opened them. She walked to the window and looked to the illuminated expanses of the Wasteland for the first time, regarding everything with varying degrees of terror. When she remembered her last hours last conscious and the events that got her into this building, she regarded it with more terror.

As she worked up the courage to step hoof outside, she picked the footlocker that was in the room she was in. She found a beautiful dress that was too large for her, though she still stored it in her saddlebags.

Mindful of the sniper from the previous day, Littlepip opened up the door with telekinesis while hiding behind an overturned table, a chime going off as she did so. More sunlight poured in, but nothing else. It was absolutely silent.

That was when the guitar started, its notes carrying trough the air. A voice started soon after, though she couldn't hear what the words were.

Pip slowly walked into the doorway, 'admiring' the graffiti. She slowly followed the 'art' on the boutique she was in from outside and to the rafters. She wished she hadn't; up there were dozens of cats, all desiccated, were hanging from the ceiling like disgusting decorations. She took a step back in disgust. That was when the beeping started. She turned and half a small orange disk half buried in dirt, a red light pulsing in sync with the beeps.

"CLOSE THE DOOR!"

Littlepip didn't question the mechanical voice, and it saved her life. The blast tore the door off of its hinges. The raiders had left that instead of having someone wait. Smart.

"You need to get to the library," The voice commanded her. No longer panicked, she questioned it.

"Why?" She asked, looking around to see if she could see the source of the voice. Her ear perked up as she heard the guitar and voice start up again. She shoved the door off and walked over to the doorway, seeing the large tree in the center of the ruins. On the balcony she could see a figure in a cowboy hat with its hind legs on the rail, strumming away at a guitar. It was the pony from last night, the one had had saved her and Jack. The one that had fought an entire town of raiders, and had seemingly come out on top.

Pip cautiously creeped towards the tree, now on her own accord.

On her way she ran into the grotesque bodies of the raiders that once inhabited the town. Holes the size of a hoof in bodies, cut or blown off heads, slash marks all across the chest, sword slashes lined with charred flesh, and crushed skulls were all apart of the mortal injuries the ponies faced. There was even one below the balcony with several chunks taken out of his backside. Littlepip gagged; Whoever that was up on the balcony hadn't fought the raiders, they had MASSACRED them.

She stopped at the door to the library, hesitating. Was the pony up there any better than the numerous ones they had killed? Before she could try to answer the question, she saw a few pieces of armor sitting next to the door. Despite apparently having belonged to raiders, they were surprisingly clean. Intact, too. Despite this, she left them behind and went inside.

She quietly opened the door, and was bombarded by more terrible raider décor, complete with mutilated ponies lashed onto the walls. Murals that had been painted on before the war were drawn over by the raiders, most being pornographic. The stench of death fell onto the library like a blanket.

As Littlepip backed up into the wall, in the middle of a panic attack, she began to notice the two cages in the room. Not counting the knife with the blade of a saw, they were completely barren. Whoever was on the balcony had freed them. She looked up and saw another cage, though that one's lock had been picked somehow. It was empty.

She slowly crept up the stairs after taking the knife, and was greeted by even more death. One pony had to halves of a pool cue stuck into his eyes, his mouth wide open. Another had its throat ripped out, his last look of surprise hinting how he died. One was split into two equal pieces, a bloody fire axe lying at his tail. Another was turned into a knife block, with over two dozen knives in his body. One more had had her skull literally been cracked like an egg. One was lying under a bookshelf, his skull turned into a bowl for his brains. The last body, laying outside of the door that led to the balcony, had the barrel of the sniper rifle they had wielded insdie her mouth, with the muzzle brake sticking out of a still smoking hole coated with blood.

Pip slowly creeped in, observing the beings at the rail of the balcony. One was a grey pony-his coat was much darker than hers-with locks of blonde poking out of the back of his cowboy hat, wearing a brown duster that had numerous weapons strapped to it. She could see dark blue two wings in-between the weapons. His forelegs-which were encased in white armor of some kind-were crossed over his chest, and she could see his Pip-Buck strapped to his left foreleg. That was when she noticed he was wearing a Stable barding, though his was much more worn. A fellow Stable Dweller! He sat in his chair in a strange way, his hindlegs-covered in the same kind of armor as his other set of legs-were on the rail right beside the swivel the sniper rifle that was skewering the raider was made for, and only the back legs of the chair touched the ground.

At his side was the biggest dog she had ever seen (granted he was the third) with a red bandanna around his neck, a pair of goggles on his forehead, and a makeshift harness with bits of scrap metal and polymer around his body. His full attention was given to his apparent master, so he didn't know she was there yet. She did behind an overturned lawn chair as the stallion started his next song with a few strums.

I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart
In my heart I have but one desire
And that one is you, no other will do

I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim
I just want to be the one you love
And with your admission that you feel the same
I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of, believe me

I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart

The stallion let his head fall back and sighed, having enjoyed playing the song. Pip enjoyed listening to it, thinking the song was fit for the new world around her.

"You like the number?" He asked. Littlepip froze as the dog suddenly got up and began walking towards her hiding spot, growling. She tried to run out of the room, but the doors were shut in a flare of green magic, slightly darker than her own. The pony stood up on four legs, and she could see that she was slightly larger than all of the guard ponies back in Stable 2, making Pip's eyes level with his neck, of which there was a bandanna around that had a peculiar pattern on it, with white stars on a blue background with red and white stripes beside them. His eyes-a light blue-were filled with not the flame of rage, but slight curiosity. That didn't stop him from levitating a pistol with a barrel as big as her entire foreleg and pressing it against her nose.

"So, what brings you out to the Wasteland?" Pip didn't answer right away, still transfixed at the weapon on her snout that could turn her into chunks of meat at any moment. He pressed it harder into her face. "I asked a question." She finally found her voice.

"T-t-t-t-to find s-s-omep-pony." The pony kept his facial expressions neutral as he heard her strange choice of grammar.

"Who might that be?"

"Her name is V-Velvet Remedy." He cocked his head in confusion at her name before pulled the gun out of her face and back into its holster. Littlepip let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in.

"Noble," He commented, walking back to the balcony, "Reminds me of when I left."

"When you left your Stable?" Pip asked, staying almost still from fear. She didn't try to pet the dog, who now looked to be completely friendly. The stallion sighed.

"That's the thing," He said, looking back to her, "I came out of a Vault." Pip cocked her head to the side.

"A Vault?" She asked.

"I'm from another dimension," He told her, "I came out of a Vault six years ago in search of somebody. My father..." He looked back to the view. "And now look at me..." Pip lowered her guard down, her inhibitions lowered by pure curiosity.

"How'd you get here?" She asked, stepping a little closer.

"Some nutcase scientist locked me into an inter-dimensional teleporter." Half truth. "I was thrown into the rocks a half hour from here." He looked back to her, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "And you just came out of your Va-Stable, right? So we're in the same boat." Pip's mouth slowly rose into a large smile.

"Do you want to travel together?" She asked. Sam held back a chuckled at how naïve this girl was. Wanting to travel with a being from a different dimension? He had shot the first alien he had seen on sight. Was he this bad when he left? No, Burke knocked it out of him almost as soon as he arrived in Megaton...

"Sure," He answered, "I've got nothing else better to do, and it looks like you need some protection." Pip cocked her eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, following his head as he walked out of the door.

"Well, judging from how you almost got enslaved within an hour of leaving," He began listing, Dogmeat and Pip on his tail, "You were almost beat to death by raiders, and it seems that you've never had any interest in fighting...I'd give you two days at most out here." Pip scoffed.

"Just two?" She asked.

"I rounded it up from six hours." She let out sarcastic laughter.

"Oh, wise guy, huh?" She asked sarcastically. They were at the door to leave when he stopped in the doorway, looking over his shoulder.

"Just a Wanderer," He told her cryptically, looking forward once more. Pip stopped, processing his last statement. She going to call him Wanderer, at least until he told her his real name.

She was snapped out of her stupor by a few barks outside from the dog. She would have to learn his name too.

She trotted outside to find Wanderer waiting outside, looking down the different roads. She noticed that they all had at least three dead raiders on them. She also saw that the sniper rifle-already inside a over shoulder holster-along with a revolver and a decent amount of ammo for both.

"Take it," He told her, somehow knowing she was studying it despite his back turned to her, "You need it more than I do." Pip looked to the Wanderer.

"You sure?" She asked. Sam simply nodded. Pip shrugged, turning her attention to the armor. It was relatively clean on the inside and slipped over her Stable barding, but the wet blood left streaks on the jumpsuit that neither of them noticed. Within a few minutes, her new armor was on, the revolver was in its new holster, as was the sniper rifle. She smiled bitterly; all set to go for a trot into the Wasteland...

"Now, where to..." He asked, trailing off.

"Littlepip," She told him, "But why are you asking me?" He looked down to his PIP-Boy-which miraculously stayed the same through the jump-and saw that his map had been updated. He was at 'Ponyville'.

"Well, you know more about this wasteland than I do," He told her, checking his inventory. It was the same as he left it, minus some ammo. "And I've done enough traveling with others while leading them. It would be nice for a change of pace." If it were up to him, he'd leave. This place reminded him too much of Springvale.

Hmmmm..." She hummed, hoof scratching underneath her chin, "Let's get out of here." Good girl.

"Alright," He agreed. He whistled to Dogmeat, who was picking something off of the corpse below the balcony. "Dogmeat, Verlassen." Pip almost laughed at his name, but she hid it with a cough. The Blue Heeler shot up from the body, something in his mouth. He trotted up to Sam, dropping the item at his hooves. It was a burlap sack full of bottlecaps. "Good boy," He told the dog, patting him on the sack to Pip, who grabbed it with her TK.

"What's this?" She asked, untying it and looking inside.

"Caps," He told her, "Currency around here." She looked back to him as he continued down the road.

"I thought you said that you weren't from here." He turned around, sadness in his eyes.

"From what I can see, my world and this one are incredibly similar. I used caps back home, and I have enough to buy a small army." He turned back around. "Besides, it's better to have and not need than to need and not have." Pip looked back to the sack for a moment before shrugging and putting it on.

"Fair point," She conceded, putting the sack into her saddlebags. The three started down the road, Sam and Dogmeat both continuously scanning for potential threats. As they neared the exit of the town, they happened upon a large gazebo around a white marble statue of a soldier of some kind, rearing back with combat barding and a short sword in his mouth. Sam stopped Pip with a hoof.

"What's wrong?" She asked. Sam didn't answer, pulling out his hunting rifle and looking through the scope. To confirm his suspicions, a pack of...radigators, were inside the weeds surrounding the whole place.

"There's radigators in those weeds," He told her, letting out a shot. A plume of red mist confirmed his hit. He worked the bolt and fired again. "They'll ambush us if we try to go on the road-" Bang. Dead. "-We need some meat for potential food-" Bang. Dead. "-And you need target practice." Pip rolled her eyes at the last remark, pulling out her rifle and scoring a few kills.

After about ten radigators lay dead in the vegetation, Sam reloaded and put his hunting rifle away, trading it for a serrated combat knife. Unlike the one she had found in the library, this one had spikes on its handle, and could seemingly he held in someone's hooves. A trench knife. Pip took hers out in her TK along with him, and they both creeped up to one of the corpses. As they neared it, they both got an alert to what the place was. While Pip had to look down on hers, Sam's PIP-Boy was integrated with his nervous system, giving him a pseudo HUD with a compass and occasional words, as well as VATS. The place was called 'The Macintosh War Memorial'.

Pip read the inscription of the statue while Sam took the choice cuts of meat, using his intimate knowledge of yao guai anatomy as reference. He fed extras to Dogmeat.

"In honor of Big Macintosh," She read aloud, "Hero of the Battle of Shattered Hoof Ridge, and his noble sacrifice for all of Equestria." Sam scoffed.

"That worked out well," He commented. He now knew the name of the old country he was in; Equestria.

Ironic considering her inhabitants her ponies.

Sam quickly finished up his harvest, wiping the bloodied knife on the creature's scales before putting it back into its sheath inside his duster. He looked around the area some more, and saw what appeared to be the entrance to a manhole. He furrowed his brow and looked to his PIP-Boy, looking for any mention of it on the map. He did find a radio broadcast, to which he quickly tuned in.

"...from those damned apple trees up near the Stable, and now he's terribly sick. Too sick to move. We've holed up in the cistern near the old memorial. We're running out of food and medical supplies. Please, if anypony hears this, help us... Message repeats..." Pip sighed, apparently having heard it before. He caught her eye and motioned to the hole. She noticed it and nodded. Sam softly stomped his foot, and Dogmeat was at his heels as he and Pip creeped towards it, keeping an eye out for any radigators.

They almost got halfway there before one of them pounced, lunging towards Sam. He Pulled his Deagle out and fired into its open maw twice. It barely survived the first-something only a few things in the Wasteland could do-but the second blew its brains out. The noise attracted he ones that were left, and soon two replaced the one that fell. Pip fired three shots from her revolver into the open maw of one, but it took it easily.

"GET INSIDE!" Sam shouted, throwing off the other that lunged at him. He quickly pulled out his knife and jumped on top of it, plunging the blade into its throat and sliding it across its width. The monster drowned in its blood. It didn't stop him from stabbing it a few more times just be sure.

"Dogmeat! Come on!" Pip exclaimed, emptying the rest of her cylinder into the backside of the other radigator. He creature barely flinched, and turned to the mare, showing off its many rows of sharp teeth. Dogmeat, who was now guarding her, growled, flashing his own. It was about to lunge when a .50 caliber round slammed into the back of its head, only wounding. Pip squeaked in fright, dropping the revolver. She quickly opened the manhole covering and dived in, Dogmeat following her.

Pip and Dogmeat waited about minute before Sam fell ungraciously into the concrete chamber, the severed head of a radigator in his hooves. He groaned, his eyes shut, before he threw the head away and stood back up, albeit slowly. Pip gasped, looking over his injures. A gash was torn into his neck, his left foreleg had a large bite mark on it, his ear was bleeding from a nick at the top, his horn was chipped, and his hat had a small tear in the brim.

But he was alive.

"Are you okay?" She asked, finally starting her fire on the ground as she got up and looked him over. She reached over to touch the gash on his neck, but pulled back as he hissed. More blood oozed out of it, staining his coat. He slowly took his satchel, careful not to rub the rough leather strap on his wound, and quickly pulled out some bandages and a stimpak with his TK. He injected the syringe into his neck and wrapped the wound, doing the same with his leg.

"I'll be fine," He told her, smiling through the pain, "Just some rest." Pip, though hesitant, nodded. She went back to the fire and, after he gave her some of the meat he procured, began to spit roast it.

Sm took his duster off, revealing his Vault 101 jumpsuit turned barding. Pip studied the barding, noting the extra armor stitched into it. He had polymer combat armor on his legs, and a leather bandolier and matching shoulder pads. A pistol was strapped to his lower chest. He put the duster on the railing of one of the bunkbeds when he noticed the skeletons, one a foal's and the other an adult's.

"The radio..." He murmured, looking in-between the two skeletons. Pip could see tears well in his eyes, but quickly blinked them away. He wrapped the two skeletons in his magic, and looked to the small footlocker on the wall. He opened it up-finding it to be empty-and gently placed the bones inside.

"Pacem lapsis," He murmured, closing the footlocker. He sniffed, staring at the box, before shaking his head. He wrapped his bandanna around his duster, and his hat on top of both of them. He kept the satchel on the floor beside Pip, and curled up on the bottom bunk beside Pip. He quickly pulled a large white blanket out of his satchel and put it around him. He threw a matching blanket on the other bed.

"Genuine bighorner wool," He told her, growing drowsy, "It'll keep you from freezing." Pip smiled widely, hopping onto the bed and wrapping herself in it. Her entire body was covered in the fluff except her face and strands of her rust-colored mane and tail. In a way, Sam thought she looked cute.

He looked away, pulling out two books from his satchel and floated over to her. One was titled 'Guns and Bullets', and the other was the 'Wasteland Survival Guide'. Considering he owned the entire series of Guns and Bullets back home and he literally helped write the Survival Guide, he barely touched them.

"Dogmeat," He muttered. The dog shot his bed up from his position on the floor, "Three hours." The dog sneezed. Sam smirked and drifted off, hearing Pip read the title before losing consciousness.

"The Wasteland Survival Guide. By Ditzy Doo..."

---

Wasteland Safari Guide: You know how to find and defeat any of the Wasteland's dangerous critters. +5% damage to all creatures.

Sam flew back and smashed into a desk, overturning it and shattering the clock that was on it. His chest was smoking, but thanks to his modifications of his suit he easily survived the lightning blast. He quickly shook off the dizziness that came with being electrocuted. He looked to Pip and Dogmeat, who were cowering behind a few filing cabinets in the back. Sam grimaced; He remembered how much Dogmeat hated the robobrains back home, and the factory floor was crawling with them.

"You okay?" Pip whispered. Sam hissed as he got into a more favorable position, with his back against the metal of the desk.

"All thing's considered," He shot back, opening his satchel and digging into it. He barely flinched when another lightning bolt flew over his head and slammed the wall.

"Are those...actual brains inside those robots?" She asked.

"They're the work of a corrupt government with too much power and not enough compassion." That was all Pip needed to know.

"Come on out. We only want to kill you for trespassing!" Sam chuckled, pulling out what he was looking for. It was a green, blocky rifle of some sort.

"Looks like they're still insane," He muttered, popping out of cover and putting two VATS-guided shots into the cylinder body of one at the bottom of the catwalk. The robot sputtered, and finally died when one more laser slammed into the glass casing holding its brain, blowing the glass apart and frying the brain. He quickly went back into cover as a volley of lightning slammed into his position, scorching the desk. Pip popped up and, using the .44 Sam let her borrow, took out another and getting back to relative safety before she was scorched.

As Sam wasn't looking, a spider-like robot hovering in the air with a thruster glided into the room. Its emotionless glowing photo receptors scanned the room, seeing two life signs behind the filing cabinets. Dogmeat growled as he caught sign of the eye and its green painted body. A Mr. Gutsy.

"Surrender in the name of the Ministry of Technology, zebra scum!" It activated its flamer, and almost the whole room was filled with fire. Sam ducked and took his hat off of his head, making sure it didn't catch alight.

"Wanderer!" Pip cried behind the cabinets, hugging Dogmeat, "Circle around! Try that lighting strike those bots are doing!" Sam nodded, a plan formulating in his quietly crept behind the Gutsy, his hat still behind the desk. He could've easily taken out the robot with a shot from his Deagle, but he was still working the kinks out of his body, and still needed to experiment. He thought of what he needed; something akin to the lightning bolts that the Robobrains were firing, just as Pip said. The charge began to build up in his horn, along with an intense burning sensation in his skull. Keeping from crying out, he lunged forward and stabbed the Gutsy in the back with as it shot its plasma-like gun.

The explosion filled the room, though Dogmeat and Pip were still in cover behind the steaming filing cabinets. That saved them from the shrapnel. Sam was thrown back into the wall, his face bleeding, charred and smoking from his incredibly close proximity.

But he was alive, and his opponent was dead.

He spat out blood mixed with soot on the floor, cracking his neck. He levitated his hat back on his head. He could see the catwalk sagging outside, and began weighing their options. He crouched beside Pip, who could only stare in horror at his battered face. The fire burnt all of his flesh away on the bridge of his snout, allowing her to see the bone. His right eye was incredibly bloodshot, probably from the electric smoke shot into his face. The nick in his ear from earlier that day had gotten bigger, and was bleeding again.

"You think you could carry Dogmeat across, Pip?" Sam asked, snapping her out of her trance. She looked to the large dog, who probably weighed around 45 pounds not counting the ramshackle armor. But she had to. She nodded quickly. He grinned. "Then I'll go thin the crowd." He pulled out the Deagle and his Colt and swooped down, dive-bombing the robots. Pip looked and gasped, the number of the bots having increased from about three to seven. Sam quickly knocked that down to six, kicking the casing of one's brain with an armored boot.

While Sam continued to strafe the robobrains, Pip began to levitate herself for the first time, not counting the dog on her back. She was sweating profusely and looked like a ponified glowstick, but is was working. The catwalk barely reacted to her and Dogmeat's combined weight. She was almost halfway across when a stray robobrains opened up, firing unusually fast. A stray bolt smacked into the catwalk, the energy arcing all across the metal surface. It would've fried either of tehm if they were standing on it. Her magic failed and both of them fell to the metal walkway the moment after it dissipated. Luckily for the two it held.

"Don't run! We want to be your-" A .50 caliber round cut through most of the body like a knife through butter, destroying of the innards through kinetic force alone. The last bolt it fired slammed into a large lamp on the ceiling, causing it's bulb to overload and explode and for the whole thing to fall and crash into the catwalk behind them. The section tore away with a shriek only metal being torn apart could make.

Both Pip and Dogmeat sprinted down the catwalk as it collapsed behind them. Dogmeat made it to the other side and was waiting for Pip when it fell underneath her hooves. She threw herself forward and caught onto the last section, barely hanging on with her forelegs. As an attempt of reassurance, Dogmeat licked her right hoof. Unfortunately for her, the saliva quickly became the lubricant that made her leg slip out of its hold. Unable to hold herself up with one leg, she let go. She screamed and fell for half a second before she was caught by a pair of strong forelegs.

"Woah there," He muttered, slowly flying upwards, "Dead Pip wouldn't be good for neither of us." She didn't know why, but she blushed a deep scarlet at the comment. He dropped her onto the floor, allowing her to check to see if he got anymore wounds. She was surprised to see that the injuries he had received from headbutting-then detonating-the combat robot were gone. She sputtered, putting a hoof to where she could see his bone.

"W-wha?" She asked. Sam looked to where she was touching and smiled.

"There was a barrel of radioactive waste down there," He told her. Another question was silenced by a sound coming from the factory floor.

"D-d-d-o-onnt ru-u-n littl-" Pip kicked the last of the catwalk loose. The metal pulverized the brain of the fallen bot, turning it into mush. Pip looked back to Sam, a small grin on her face. Her question was lost.

"That was oddly satisfying."

---

Sam kicked open the door and scanned the room with his .44, putting it away when he saw that there was not a living thing in the whole office. It seemed that that had been the case for centuries...

Pip walked in with Dogmeat in tow(he walked over to a corner and sat in it), smiling as she gazed upon the chipped-but still very warm-orange paint. They both stared at the sign behind the desk.

Ironshod Firearms

How do you like them apples?

Sam humphed, having not getting the slogan. Instead, he looked to the poster in the room, biting his tongue in order to save himself from saying what was going through his head aloud. 'Better Wiped Than Striped'. Pip followed his gaze.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Sam shook his head, his brow furrowed.

"Back before the war at home the Pre-at propaganda had a similar saying," He told her, beginning to work on the wallsafe. Pip took the hint and began hacking the terminal, pulling out her access tool form her utility suit. "'Better Dead Than Red'. Shit like that was what destroyed the world." Pip pondered the last remark as Sam picked the lock. He found pre-war coins, a copy of an 'Equestrian Army Today', finance papers, bubblegum, a fission battery (or a spark battery as he was told by Pip afterwards) and a 'StealthBuck'. He whistled, wrapping in his aura as he collected everything else. He moved to the glass display case containing the most beautiful revolver in his life. Meanwhile, Pip had successfully hacked into the terminal, finding a recording.

"Cousin Braeburn, Ah know we ain't talked in some time, but the war effort's takin' a twist for the scary, and Ah might not have a chance t' see ya again. Ah want t' mend fences. Now, Ah ain't gonna muck this up with words. We all know how well that went last time. Instead, Ah'm sendin' ya Lil' Macintosh as a gift and as an apology. T'show you I'm sincere. Keep 'im safe for me, will ya?"

After three broken bobby pins, Sam was pacing in front of the glass box, brainstorming a way to get in. An idea popped into his head.

"Hey, Wanderer, I can unlock that-" Glass shattering filled the room, and Pip looked over the terminal. Sam's hoof was hovering an inch above the revolver, broken glass littered all around him. Pip pressed a key, and the lock unlatched itself with an audible click. Sam looked over to Pip, who put an innocent smile on her face. His eye twitched. Dogmeat sneezed.

"Here," He said suddenly, grabbing the revolver-which he took with great care-and the StealthBuck to Pip. She looked to the items that were in her telekinetic grip and back to Sam. He simply pulled out his Deagle and cast that invisibility spell. Pip's mouth formed an 'o' and she nodded, putting the revolver in the holster that once housed her now destroyed revolver and the StealthBuck first around her PIP-Buck (in order to find out what it actually was) and then into her saddlebags. Sam looked to the pistol.

"Take good care of it," Sam told her, moving to the elevator. He pressed the button, but it did nothing.

"Why do you say that?" Pip asked, realizing the answer after the words left her lips.

"Because that gun was given to reconnect with family." He opened the side panel to check the problem. "And if anything's important out here, it's family." He replaced one of the batteries, and the elevator activated. He climbed in, Dogmeat crawling underneath his belly and laying down. He saw Pip staring at him. Again. After rolling his eyes, he nodded to the open spot next to him, and she quickly scrambled in. As the doors closed, Pip realized something.

"Macintosh?" Sam's eyes narrowed as the two slowly looked to each other. He realized it too.

"Wasn't that..."

---

The two-with dog in tow-trotted past the collapsed buildings near the factory. Pip had no real objective, having abandoned her original goal of finding Velvet Remedy for the time being. Sam didn't seem to care about the goal in the first place, only wanting to travel and explore this new land.

"What are the things that helped you survive when you first got out of your Stable?" Pip asked, kicking a rock down the cracked road they were walking down. This stallion was a treasure-trove of information, especially since it seemed that they had similar adventures up to this point.

"Weapons," He began to list. He grabbed her sniper rifle, Little Macintosh, and her shotgun in his magic and shook them in their holsters. "Check. Armor." He reached over and tapped the spiked metal shoulder pad on her right arm. "Check. And friends..." He smiled. "Well, they didn't call me the Lone Wanderer for nothing."

"Am I your friend?" Sam let out a bitter chuckle.

"I'd call you an acquaintance, but you can think whatever you want." Pip gasped, stopping.

"How could you say that?" She asked, "After all we've been through?" Sam scoffed and turned around.

"That was a Tuesday afternoon." He looked to his PIP-Boy's chronometer. "Literally." Pip pouted.

Well it's kinda hard to make friends where there doesn't seem to be anypony friendly around!" Sam turned back around, his brows furrowed.

"Any 'friends' I've made don't stick around long, a week if they were lucky. " Pip's angry expression fell off of her face. "Trust me, I'm doing you a favor." He faced forward and kept walking. Pip snapped out of her state to find him kneeling in front of a playground. She trotted up to him and followed his gaze. He was staring at a foal's skeleton curled up on a warped merry-go-round, and another with three skates on its legs. He was mouthing words, but she couldn't hear them.

"Iustitiae est innocentes," He murmured at the end, getting up.

"What's that mean?" Pip realized that more than half of what she said to his pony were questions.

"Justice to the innocent." He wandered back onto the road. Pip caught his eye for a moment as she got onto his hooves, but quickly turned away. Pip looked to the skeletons once more and realized what he had meant. The war that destroyed everything...these young ones would have had next to no idea what was happening. How many times was this repeated all over Equestria? Pip shook the thought from her head and continued to follow the Wanderer. Trying to think of more questions. This was a very experienced wastelander, there had to be something!

"Is there anything left out here?" Pip asked suddenly. A spritebot passed them. They both ignored it.

"What, like settlements?" She nodded. "A few, but they'll be far and in-between. Some will be prosperous, some will be hanging on their last legs. Some would be able to hold off bombs, others...it'd be too late." Pip took the words in, wondering if he knew that from experience. She wondered if the friends he had mentioned had met that same fate.

Pip spotted an old vending machine shielded by a few buildings, advertising 'Sparkle Cola' behind the centuries of dust accumulated on its surface. She walked up to it, pulling out a few of the prewar coins, but was gently pushed aside by Sam. He punched the machine, and a bottle fell out. He smirked and levitated the drink to Pip, who took it with an impressed expression.

The cola was lukewarm and slightly irradiated, but the carroty aftertaste made it all worth it. Sam pulled a bottle in the shape of a rocket out of his satchel. Pip read the label; Nuka-Cola. Sam knocked it back, downing half of the bottle before catching his breath. Pip, now realizing how sore her legs were, looked to find a bench. She saw one on the other side of the building they were standing in front of. Pip-Sam waterfalling a little bit of Nuka to Dogmeat behind her-turned a corner and noticed an old poster plastered to the wall. The poster depicted the face of an elderly pony with an incredibly pink body. Her mane was streaked with grey, making her look like a candy cane. Her eyes were huge, staring into her soul. After jerking her head back and forth, she could see that the eyes seemed to be following her. The poster was ripped in the middle, making it impossible to see her expression. Bold words above and below the image, now deeply faded, announced: PINKIE PIE IS WATCHING YOU FOREVER.

"A happy reminder from the Ministry of Morale," She read aloud as Sam and Dogmeat walked up behind her, "What's the Ministry of Morale?"

"Another well-meaning idea that was so much better on scroll." Pip jumped and turned around, while Sam simply pulled his Deagle and put the barrel underneath the source of the voice. He smiled when he saw what it was.

"Watcher," He greeted, putting the hand cannon away. Pip relaxed, the spritebot seemingly harmless and friendly now that Sam wasn't about to kill it. She was still hyperventilating, and her heart want to want to fly out of her chest.

"Watcher?" She asked.

"That's me," The spritebot said in its monotone voice, "The ghost in the machine." Sam nodded at the joke. Pip growled.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?" She exclaimed.

"Oh. Sorry," Watcher apologized. Pip glared at the spritebot before walking off, completely forgetting about the bench. Watcher turned to Sam, who shrugged. THE TWO AND Dogmeat followed her.

"I see you've got some armor..." Watcher observed. Though Pip didn't know why he seemed so hesitant, Sam knew perfectly; She looked like a raider. Sam knew that issue the moment he began scavenging. Sam looked over to the spritebot and mouthed 'sorry'. Meanwhile, Pip was deep in thought. She thought about how similar thus far her and the Wanderer's journey had been. He seemed to turn out okay, but when she looked into his eyes...all she saw was pain. She was terrified of her future if she continued down whatever road she was going, but for now she was nobody.

"Maybe the reason you're having trouble finding your place is that you haven't discovered your virtue yet," Watcher told her. Sam's slight smile vanished, and his brow furrowed.

"There's no virtue out here, bud," He told the bot, "Only vice. And that vice is survival." The bot stopped and looked to the Wanderer.

"That's a lot of bull coming from you," Watcher shot back. He was rewarded with a 1911 in his camera's lense.

"You don't know me," He threatened. Pip and Dogmeat looked at the scene in terror, Pip for possibly losing one or a possible second mentor, and Dogmeat for losing his master.

"I've seen enough," Watcher told him, "And I'm assuming that your actions here aren't very different form the ones form your world. And if you two-" The bot nodded to Pip- "Are as alike as I think, I know what her's is."

"What do even mean by our virtue?" Pip asked, tired of being quiet while two beings were close to having a shootout in front of her. Sam grudgingly lowered his gun, giving Watcher enough comfort to speak.

"The greatest heroes of Equestria, ponies with lifelong bonds of unbreakable friendship and strength, were each known for exemplifying one of the great virtues of ponykind. Kindness, honesty, laughter-"

"Laughter?" Sam and Pip asked at the same time.

"Roll with me on this," He reassured them, "Generosity, loyalty and magic. They really didn't know themselves, or each other, until one pony came to realize that her friends represented these virtues, and together they grew to live by them. Now, I'm not saying those are the only virtues, they are just a…" He paused, searching for the right words. "…particularly important set. I'm just saying that perhaps if you learn to recognize the dominant virtue in your own heart, you will find yourself. And you won't need anyone or anything else to tell you your place in the-" His voice fizzled out, and old music began pouring out of the speakers. The bot began floating away. Sam sighed.

"Great," Pip said for him. She finished her soda and tossed the bottle onto the ground, making sure to pocket the cap as she saw Sam do earlier.

"I don't trust him," Sam said randomly, "He tried to trick as soon as I met him." He began walking back down the road, Pip and Dogmeat following him.

"So you didn't stumble upon me on purpose," Pip commented. Sam waved her off.

"I would've gotten there eventually," He told her, "And I have every bit of confidence you would've gotten out of your situation if I hadn't come." Pip blushed.

"Aww, stop," She said sarcastically. Sam smirked.

"Anyway, he pointed me into the direction of the town, so I went there first. He even told it was a raider base, but I waved it off. I had assumed there was at mostfive. There was about fifteen, maybe twenty if you count the ones were vaporized in explosions." Pip whistled, her brain now in overdrive.

"And I'm assuming those raiders had captives in those cages..."

"Yep."

"And that's how you found that Survival Guide..."

"Yep."

"So it was a setup!" All three of their ears perked up as they heard the music behind them cut off, replaced by a voice. A deep, masculine voice full of charisma.

"Friends, ponies, rejoice! Although the world about you is bleak, scarred and poisoned by the war of honorless, thoughtless, inferior ponies of the past, we do not have to live in the shadow of their greed and wickedness. Together, we can raise Equestria back to its former beauty! Together, we can build a new kingdom where all live together in perfect unity! It's already happening, my good ponies. Already, the foundation for a new and wonderful age is being built. Yes, it's hard work, but don't we owe it to ourselves, and to future generations of ponies, to be better? No, to be the best we can possibly be? I'm telling you now, as your friend, as your leader, that we can. We must. And we wi-" Sam sent a .44 through the bot, sending fired electronics out a large hole in its steel hide on its opposite side. Pip blinked as Sam put the magnum back into its holster.

"Why?" She asked. Sam looked into her eyes, and Pip shrinked. They were full of flaming hot anger and rage.

"Because the last man who promised those things murdered my father."

---

Sam took point, his Deagle in his telekinetic grip. Dogmeat was bringing up the rear, his ears and nose on overload to detect anything that could harm his master-and his friend. After Sam had calmed down, Pip had remarked that the ponies had at least a town, since they had a leader. Dismissing the leader thing as 'bullshit to the highest degree', the two did see plumes of smoke nearby, and had spent almost an hour trotting down this path. Despite having a run-in with pig-like mutanted animals, where Pip had tested Little Macintosh, this small journey had been a rather uneventful one.

Sam holstered his pistol, slowing down to a walk. Pip couldn't see the settlement yet, she assumed he knew what he was doing.

"By this point the town guards should be covering us," He told her. Pip sighed.

"Good, I don't like being on edge all the time," She joked. Sam smiled.

"Get used to it, sweetheart." Pip blushed and laughed, truly not knowing why. Sam laughed with her.

"Reminds me of my first time at Megaton," He began telling her, "I had cleared out a raider nest inside a school, and he must've mistaken me for a raider. I had some of their armor on and I was...covered in blood..." He stopped and turned to Pip, who looking at her own body with an equally terrified expression.

Sam didn't hear the first shots, only the twang as one bullet weakened his reinforced skull and the other plowing through his brain. The bullets-in complete sync with each other-entered in-between his eyes, and he was flung into a ditch on the side of the path. Before Pip could cry out to him, a bullet went cleanly through her right hindleg while another clashed against her rifle, making her scream in pain. She could see her bone inside the hole, a sight (and feeling) that made her scream again. As she dragged herself behind a large pile of rocks for cover, Dogmeat threw himself into the ditch alongside the corpse of his master, whose blood was pooling around his head through the hole above his snout. His hat, somehow, stayed on his head.

After two attempts of field dressing on her leg, Pip tired to look around for the shooter. She saw a rust-furred pegasus with an orange mane and black hat, with two gun barrels strapped to his sides. He circled around and aimed at her once more. The rock she had grabbed as a makeshift shield barely did its job, only stopping one bullet from entering her skull, instead ricocheting off of the rock and destroying her second canteen. The last swigs of water dribbled out as another bullet entered her left shoulder. She felt the pain peak and slowly ebb away. She was dying.

She closed her heavy eyes, but when she opened them she could see two ponies leading two -headed cattle-like beasts pulling a wagon. She could see a young colt in the back. They wouldn't look up, and if they did it would be too late. Feeling a sudden wave of strength, she got up and into the open. She would be able to warn the family by dying in the middle, hopefully giving them enough warning to fight back. She grabbed Little Macintosh and pointed it at the pegasus as she flew towards her again, though she couldn't tell if she was aiming at him through her teared-up eyes.

"Shoot at me all you want, but if you attack that family, I will! End! You!" She'd like to think the Wanderer would be proud of her for doing this. The pegasus' eyes grew wide and he stopped almost right in front of her. Levitating Macintosh was becoming increasingly difficult for her, but she had to. For her wellbeing (however long that was going to last) and for the family.

"Ah ain't the one attackin' that caravan! You are!" Pip was never more confused in her life than she was in this moment. SA small part of her mind was thankful that he was now talking to her instead of trying to kill her. Like Wanderer...

"Not attacking. You shot me!"

"Well of course ah shot you! Ah see a raider headin' at a caravan, ah'm gonna perforate her till she ain't movin' no more! It's muh policy." The pegasus seemed rather pleased at the last part. Pip would go into the thought more, but her forelegs were giving to give out. However, when the pegasus had called her a raider, she almost snapped. Instead, she wrapped Macintosh in a stronger grip and put it right in-between his eyes.

I'm not a raider!" The pony pointed at her, almost like a lawyer in an intense court case.

"Y'sure look like a raider!" The colt from the wagon galloped into view, seemingly appearing out of thin air. Pip tired to call out to him in warning, but her voice failed her. The darkness won, but before she could collapse she stumbled over to where the Wanderer fell. She finally blacked out, her gun skidding across the gravel, her head slamming into the ground. Her horn pointed directly at the body, with Dogmeat whimpering next to him. The colt looked down and gasped loudly as his parents and the pegasus surrounded him. They all could now see the stable suits under their armor, and the PIP devices on their forelegs.

"Calamity, what have you done?!"

---

Footnote: Level Up

New Perk: John Connor-You have become adept at killing robots. All damage to robots increase +10%.

---

As a reminder, I have updated the other chapters so they have footnote level up things (like the original). I also polished them a little, fixing errors. Hope you're enjoying this.

The first though that went through Littlepip's mind as she woke up was that she was somehow alive. She felt more warm and comfortable than she had felt since leaving the stable. She lifted her PIP-Buck to her face to check the time, which moved her blanket. It fell to the floor, signaling anybody in the room that she was there.

"Oh! Look who's awake!" The voice of a mare called throughout the room she was in. Due to her proximity, she was quickly brought up to full alertness. She looked around the room, and could only identify one of the several ponies in the room. It was the pegasus that had shot her up.

The source of the voice was from a (in her opinion) pretty white-coated earth pony with a cotton-candy pink mane that matched the pink and yellow-stripped nurse's dress she was wearing. Pip could see several medical boxes nailed to the walls, alongside posters advertising the 'Ministry of Peace'. Pip concluded that she was in a clinic of some kind, and not a raider captive. Feeling quite well form her rest, Pip tried to sit up, but received blurry vision in return.

"Take it easy there, partner," The pegasus warned her. Pip could recall that his name was Calamity, but she couldn't remember how she knew. She scooted back onto the mattress, her opinion of him now conflicted. On one hoof, he seemed very polite now, but he had also shot her several times and had killed-

"Wanderer!" Pip blurt out, sitting back up. She shook her head, and the blurriness and double vision went away. "Where's my friend?" Calamity looked to the ground, unable to look at her as he was reminded of his impulsive deed. The nurse seemed crestfallen too.

"Candi?" A grey-coated earth pony with black mane and tail in the crowd asked.

"He's over here." She gestured to a place the wall, and the small crowd parted. Pip's heart stopped as she saw a black body bag with a Stetson hat on top lying on the ground, Dogmeat seeping beside it. "He hasn't eaten since he calmed down," Candi tried to explain. Pip ignored it, getting up and slowly walking to the covered-up corpse.

"Ah'd never seen a alicorn stallion before," Calamity tired to explain, "Ah just-!" Pip didn't say a word, her mind completely transfixed on the bag. She knelt down in front of it, tears in her eyes.

"I didn't know you long," She whispered, "But I would've liked to." Tears began sliding down her face, and choked sobs came from her mouth. Without saying anything, the grey stallion began shooing the crowd away.

"you too, Calamity," He whispered to the pegasus, a solemn look on his face, "Especially you." Calamity didn't say a word in response, simply going out the door before him. Candi looked to the broken stable dweller, her heart broken.

"Ah'm sorry," She told Pip, "Fer what it's worth, he seemed handsome when he was brough' in." Pip stifled a laugh behind another sob. By this Time Dogmeat had woken up, looking back and forth between Pip and the nurse before settling back down.

"Where'd his stuff go?" Pip asked after a few minutes, wiping her eyes.

"It's all still on his pony," Candi informed her, "Calamity an' Hilll couldn't get that damn satchel off-" The bag breathed in, a long rattily sound, and breathed out. To anyone from Earth's Pre-War era, they would've said he sounded almost exactly like Darth Vader. Pip instantly shot up and backed up, as did Dogmeat. The bag tried to breathe in again, but it was vacuum sealed. After a moment of struggling, a blade went through the black material of the bag. The blade ripped the bag apart, the spiked handle wrapped in a dark green aura.

Sam climbed out, hacking like a smoker. He slowly got back on his hooves, wobbling as he did. His eyes were bloodshot, his magic seemed wonky as he put his hat on his head, and there was hole in his skull right below the base of his horn that allowed everyone to see his brain. He tried to grab something out of his satchel but failed and unhooked the strap. The wooden planks splintered underneath it. Slowly blinking, he looked to everyone in the room.

"Morning." Candi screamed, backing up to the wall. The grey stallion and Calamity both barged in with weapons raised moments after, eyes wide as they saw the new stallion in the room. Sam pulled his Deagle out and aimed it at the two, the hand cannon bouncing in the air. He settled the sights on Calamity. The grey stallion dropped the gun he had in his mouth, utterly astonished.

"Y-your aim was off," He managed to say, slowly blacking out, "Asshole." He dropped to the floor, his jaw and the gun cracking the floorboards. No one said anything for several minutes, eyes transfixed on Sam while Dogmeat pranced around, happy that his master was alive.

"Ah'll tell yah hwat," The grey stallion said as Dogmeat padded over to the food bowl, eating 200-year old dog food, "Ah've seen ah lot of crazy stuff in ma time, but that? That just topped tha whole damn list."

---

Sam groaned as he regained consciousness, immediately wishing he hadn't. Everything ached, and the small amount of light that shone through the blinds blinded him. He could feel a small pain in his mouth, which flared when his tongue brushed it. His groans alerted Candi, who was fixing a medical concoction at the counter.

"Look who's awake!" She exclaimed, putting the tray on her back and carrying it over to him. He sat up in his bed, his senses slowly coming back. he rubbed his eyes with his left foreleg.

"How long have I been out?" He asked as she neared.

"Well, ya were clinically dead fer about two days," She said, taking the cup off of her back and giving it to him, "But unconscious fer less than an hour." He looked into it, unable to tell what it was. "Healing potion with some apple schnapps, suga." Sam's mind went back to some memories at the last word, but he quickly shook them out and downed the potion. Almost immediately he began to feel better, but it wasn't enough. He gave the glass bottle back to Candi.

"Could you give me back my satchel please?" He asked. Candi looked to the satchel then back to Sam, a nervous smile on her face.

"We were tryin' fer about twenty minutes," She told him. Sam facepalmed/hoofed. Of course it would.

"My mistake," He told her, activating the mental trigger of his magic. The satchel was wrapped in his green aura, and while it flickered a little, it held. The satchel floated over Candi's head, who noticed it when the loose strap knocked the little nurse's hat she had off of her head. She yelped, but was quickly amazed as she saw that he was the cause. The dropped the satchel onto his stomach, grunting as the weight fell on him. Despite the 500 pound load lightening as it came into contact with its biometrically identified owner (which apparently extended to his aura), it was still heavy. He quickly dug his hoof in a pulled out a hunk of glowing rock, with small dribbles of glowing green goo in the cracks. Candi backed up, seeing that it was radioactive.

"Why on Celestia's great world are ya-" Her question died on her lips as he turned to face her. The hole in his head was closing automatically at an alarmingly fast rate. His eyes-still incredibly bloodshot-were clearing up, and the broken tooth inside his mouth fixed itself.

"Mutation I got during my travels," He told her as he put away the rock, having absorbed enough radiation to heal himself. He pulled out a RadAway and shot himself with the needle. It would ensure that he didn't ghoulify anyone ten feet away. He rolled off the bed and onto his hooves, looping the satchel's strap around his body and hooking it again. Candi was stammering when Pip and Calamity walked in, Pip lightening up immediately as she saw Sam on his four legs again.

"Wanderer!" She shouted, galloping over and nearly tackling him. She wrapped her forelegs around his neck and squeezed, making Sam blush at both the care in the hug and who was hugging him. He hadn't been hugged like that since Enclave Day...

Pip's eyes shot open, the mare finally realizing what she was doing. She immediately got off and stepped back, her face crimson. She rubbed the back of her head, awkwardly grinning.

"Ah'm not sure what that was about," Calamity said slowly after a few moments of awkward silence, "But we've got t' get a move on." Sam cocked his head.

"Where we going?" That was when he noticed Pip no longer had the raider armor on. Instead, her utility barding had been armored in a similar way that his was.

"Something about 'varmints in the Stable west o' here'," Pip mimicked a Dixie accent. At the mention of 'Stable' and 'creature' Sam's eyes widened and his ears pinned against his head. Pip saw what she had never seen on his face in the few short days she had known him. Something that made her regret accepting the quest.

Fear.

---

"So yer some kind o' cyberpony?"

Dogmeat yipped as he climbed on top of a small rock, Sam shaking his head at the dog's antics. Him and Calamity had gotten into the talk of how he had survived the twins shots to the head, with the answer making Calamity a little more than skeptical.

"Yeah. My bones were coated in adamantanium when I was abducted by aliens, and my brain was pumped full of nanobots when it was in a vat in a science compound full of other brains in vats. The adamantanium took away one bullet and severely reduced the force of the second, which is why my brain ain't mush, and the nanobots repaired the neurons, explaining why I didn't get amnesia." Calamity processed the information, not knowing whether or not it was bullshit.

"...Yep."

"So why are you with us again?" Pip asked, wanting to change the subject. Calamity sighed, having gotten out of that...confusing conversation.

"Ah figure ah owed you two one," He answered, "Maybe a whole mess o' ones, considerin' all y'all did for the good ponies of New Appleloosa." Pip sighed.

"You couldn't have known, I was wearing blood-caked raider armor," She told him.

"And I was the bigger target," Sam pointed out, "And I'm still here, aren't I?" He nearly tripped over a small rock, making Pip scoff. The nanites weren't completely done with repairing his brain.

"I don't know," She said, "I think there still bits and pieces back where you got shot." He flipped her the bird with his wing, but she didn't get it.

"Caked in raider blood," Calamity continued, "Armor ya only had cuz ya needed protection while saving the lives of five good townsponies!" He rounded on Sam. "And there you were tryin' to be her bodyguard or sumthin'!" Sam waved it off.

"Wanderer was the one that saved them anyway!" Pip exclaimed. Sam waved it off.

"If you hadn't been there at that time, there wouldn't have been a diversion to thin out the defenders on the bridge." Pip opened her mouth to counter, but he continued. "Did you even see what was on the barricades? Quad-barreled rocket launchers, heavy machine guns, and anti-material rifles. I couldn't have made it past, even without 'Meat." That was boldfaced lie, as Evergreen Mills had worse defenses plus a Behemoth. But it was to make her feel better, so what was the harm?

"Ya see?" Calamity said, "Ya inderectly cleared out an entire raider base!" Sam chuckled, while Pip sneered. "An' besides, ah can't consent t' ya two goin' down there alone. Ah've heard dark stories about those Stables. Bad, bad things happened down in too many of 'em." Sam snorted,scanning the horizon.

"And I can personally attest that 60% of what you've heard is true," He told him.

"I came from a Stable," Pip pointed out, "Hell, everypony came from somepony who came from a Stable, right? I can see why an empty one would be an inviting nesting ground, but it's not like the Stables are cursed or sinister." Sam let out a small laugh.

"Famous last words..." He muttered.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Pip asked, "You came from a Stable too, you should be on my side!"

"I came from a flawed Stable in the middle of a goddamn revolution," He told her sternly. That shut her and silenced whatever affirmative Calamity might've had. "And I've been in a HELL of a lot more V-Stables than are probably around here. Trust me when I say only 2-fucking-percent of those things were actually meant to save anypony." Pip's ears pinned back to her head. "If there are some kind of animals making a nest in there, they were probably the result of an experiment in gene splicing." Calamity had no idea what any of that meant.

"Here's to hopin' it ain't, eh Wanderer?" Sam smiled bitterly.

"Stables are where hope does to die." He saw a drop of rain hit the brim of his hat.

---

Sam had never experienced rain. He had heard from scuttlebutt in the Muddy Rudder that it rained in the Commonwealth, even had radiation storms every once in a while, but when he had went down there in 2280 as apart of the recon squad nothing had occurred. Now, it was a downpour, comparable to what he had read about rainforests. He was enjoying the rain, even if it did soak him through to his undergarments. Even Dogmeat was having a fun time, catching raindrops as he hurried behind the group. Both of the PIP devices of the party had their lights turned up all the way, one run by magic and the other by fusion.

"What's going on?!" Pip asked through the sound of the winds.

"It's a thunderstorm," Calamity houted over the wind, "An' a mighty big one! We best be findin' some shelter, cuz it's just gettin' started!"

"Thunder?" Pip asked, "What's thunder?" A large crack sounded through the sky, louder than a sniper rifle firing right next to one's ears. Sam would know, for it had happened to him before. Crazy Rangers...

He stopped in his tracks, almost slipping on the quickly forming mud and onto his face. He looked down and saw Pip cowering underneath his torso, his larger stature allowing her small frame to easily slip in.

"Get a grip, girl!" He shouted at her over the increasing winds. Upon realizing what she was doing, he back out from under him. Sam's mind was going a about a million miles per second, trying to figure out what to do in this situation. They needed to find the Stable, and get shelter from his storm. But was there was a way to find both...

"Calamity!" He shouted, getting the pegasus' attention, "The Stable'll be in a cave dug into the ground, so water will flow down into it!" Calamity looked down to the ground, and saw the water running ever-so-slightly downwards to somewhere. "We need to fly to get there as fast as possible! Take Pip so I can see where you're going, but we need to hurry before the lightning!"

"Got it!" He exclaimed, wrapping his forelegs around her small torso. She yelped as she was sent into the air, but quickly settled down. Dogmeat kept silent, having been trained better. Another boom went ripped through the air, making Pip scream again.

"If y'all are that scared o' the thunder, wait 'till ya actually see the lightnin'!" Calamity shouted. As he said it, a bolt of lightning struck a dead tree on a nearby hill, its pale light lighting everything in the area for a brief moment. Sam pointed to the side of a cliff nearby as they passed over a frothing river.

"Cave! There!" He shouted. Calamity saw and nodded, diving down to it. Sam was about to when he saw something on a nearby hill, illuminated by a bolt of lightning. He couldn't make out the pony, but his trained eyes could see that it was an alicorn, much like he was. An instant later the lightning vanished.

Sam was about to dive down when his wing was hit by a bolt, the electricity coursing through his skin. Luckily for Dogmeat, both his master's jumpsuit and his armored harness were insulated from heavy electric charges that some combat robots could weaponize, meaning Sam would take all of the damage. Sam screamed as he momentarily lost control of his motor functions, barrel-rolling downwards into the mouth of the cave. Pip and Calamity barely had time to look to see what was the matter. Dogmeat was dropped as Sam lost controls of his hands, barely passing over their heads and skidding on the slick rock. Sam, however, flew over them and past briefly illuminated stairs before slamming into a large cog door with a metallic clang that echoed on the cave's walls. His slumped down, completely unconscious. The force of his slam actally jarred the rusted steel door more.

"Wanderer!" Pip shouted, galloping over. Calamity groaned.

"Ah'll git 'im inside!" He told her, "You get that door closed!" He grabbed the collar of his duster and began pulling, Dogmeat rushing past him to safety. Pip notice the puddle forming down below, and reluctantly passed him, going for the door controls. She tried to push up on the lever, but she couldn't. The damn thing was rusted shut. She felt a strong hoof push her aside. Sam put his right hoof and pushed up, using his strength to forcibly push it upwards. It succeeded, flakes of rust flying out of the joints, and the door closed. Pip looked his face over briefly in the pale green glow of their PIPs.

Somehow his horn managed to survive unharmed, but his right eye was swelled up. She wouldn't be surprised if there was a welt the size of her hoof underneath his hat. She smiled bitterly, looking to the damaged and chaotic inside of the Stable. He pulled out a combat shotgun from his satchel, its stock sawed off.

"Ladies and gentlemen," He said, pulling back on the receiver, "Welcome to the hell known as Stable 24."

---

Footnote: Level Up

Courier: You and your Mojave friend have more alike than first realized. Damage taken form headshots is reduced -5%.

"You realize we just shut ourselves into the Evil Scary Stable of Spookiness, right?" Sam wanted to slap Pip in the face, but this wasn't the time nor place. He had vowed alongside an old friend of his to never come back down into one of these things on his own free will.

'This had better be worth it,' He thought bitterly, regarding the discarded papers and cans on the ground underneath flickering lights, 'Cause this is sending me quicker to Hell than I was before.' Dogmeat didn't say anything, seemingly remembering his won experiences in these places. Sam knew exactly what the Blue Heeler was thinking of.

It started (and ended) with the word 'Gary'.

The magical field surrounding the shotgun in the air flickered constantly, and the weapon jolted every few seconds. Sam-whose sight was as foggy as his thoughts-knew it was a symptom of his major concussion. While his skull couldn't be dented, the kinetic waves of any hit could go through easily. He knew of a Wasteland recipe to drastically cut the length of his injury, which would then be completely gone after a four hour nap. But now, in the dankness of the subterranean megashelter, it was impossible. He would have to wait until he got back to New Appleloosa, or maybe a saferoom inside these metal catacombs. But for now, a little bit of willpower could get him through.

Calamity's eyes darted from one shadow to another, his muscles tense and his wings twitching every few seconds. He was a pegasus deep underground, one of his instincts and iconic bodily functions-flying-rendered useless by the few tons of steel, concrete and rock above his head.

"Wand'r, no offense, but ah'm gonna trust Pip ah'n this one," He told him, "I reckon she knows more abou' the Stables here than you do." Sam couldn't blame him for choosing the optimistic side, so he nodded in response. "Besides," he added, flapping his wings, "Not like these are gonna do me any good down here, one way or t'other." The flapping caught Pip's gaze, which was then turned to the twin rifles on either side of his body built into a saddle of some kind. Metal reins extended from it, meeting a few inches from his face from a bit that acted like a trigger, both of the rifles firing at the same time.

"Hey, Calamity," She said, "I've been meaning to ask you, what is that?" She pointed her hoof at the saddle. Sam took his eyes off of the hallway in front of them for a moment to glimpse the saddle, but regretted it instantly; a red blip went off, but when he turned to look at it he saw nothing. He tightened his telekinetic grip on his shotgun, slowly edging forward, trying to spot the ghost.

"What?" He turned looking around, spinning in place. Pip couldn't suppress her laugh, the pegasus was making a fool out of himself. "What, you mean my battle saddle?" Pip must've nodded, because Calamity went on. Sam paid them no mind as they went on, instead pushing farther into the Stable. He wanted to get in, purge whatever fucks were in here, and get out. He couldn't hear Dogmeat's soft footfalls, signaling that he had stayed back. That relived Sam; The dog wasn't very useful in this setting, especially with his small phobia. He needed to be as safe as possible.

He spent a few minutes ducking into the doors in the hallway, scavenging when he could. He left the locked box in the storage room, knowing he wouldn't be able to with the curves and blurs in his vision. He quickly walked out, seeing Pip and Calamity still talking about his damn saddle. He rolled his eyes, having seen firsthand that conversing and letting your guard down in a vault would attract the danger and ultimately kill you in a terrible way. Poor Parker and Jenkins...

Only when he crept down the stairs did the two notice he was gone, but by that time Sam was reading the terminal entry inside a classroom. It was a cleaner, more kid-friendly version of his old classroom. However, there were some major differences, like the addition of the bookshelf with a once-plush rug beside it. There was also a tank to hold an animal of some kind, giving Sam the impression that the madness that destroyed this stable had began either here or close. Shaking his head, he finally started to read the first entry.

Had a real surprise when we tested the young unicorns on their magic today. I had all my little ponies bring in their pets and show me how they could make them levitate. Simple enough, although a squirming animal can add a level of difficulty for foals at this age. I had to let both Butter and Peridance each borrow the class mascot, since neither have a pet of their own. Peridance was thrilled, but I think Butter is terrified of the snake, even though she's been told it's defanged and harmless. Needless to say, Butter didn't do very well.

The real surprise was little Quanta, who has been struggling with even minor levitation all year. Now I know these things have never been recorded in girls, but I can't imagine any other explanation: we had a full magical epiphany occur right in our classroom. Quanta not only levitated herself, but she let out a flash of energy that affected all of the pets in the room. Most just panicked and had to be recovered, but some (including our mascot) seem to have vanished completely. And strangest of all, the arcane flash seems to have transformed Carrot Tail's ugly old cat into… well, an even uglier old cat.

It only lasted a moment. Quanta seems fine. Didn't even realize what she'd done. Of course, parents had to be called, and Carrot Tail is traumatized. It will be a miracle if I can teach these foals anything for the rest of the week. Meanwhile, I'm going to write up a proposal to have another unicorn stallion watch over these tests from now on. Just as a precaution.

So the reason this stable went crazy WAS because of this room, some kind of magical school test. He was partially right on the gene splicing, just not how he thought it would go. He quickly moved on, noting the clopping and the pats of the footfalls of his friends.

I expected a few parents to keep their colts and fillies home after the excitement at the beginning of the week, but by now they should be letting them back. Instead, attendance is at its lowest yet. Over half my students have skipped their classes today. If things haven't turned around after the weekend, I'm going to have to start calling parents. And if that doesn't work, maybe even the Overstallion.

"Ya ever heard of anypony called Prince Celest?" Sam nearly jumped out of his fur, barely going against his impulse of pulling his Deagle and pumping the speaker full of lead. He knew they were coming, of course, but he had no idea they were that close. Damn vault hallways...

"Nice to see you two caught up," Sam muttered. Neither of them heard, much to his chagrin. Dogmeat was oblivious, sniffing a small box of toys in one of the corners.

"What?" Pip asked, "Lemme see that." She took the book in her telekinetic grip, which appeared to be a children's book. Sam, now curious, pulled one of the books out to read for himself. While it seemed to be a boring book about different ancient legends of Equestria, Pip seemed to be angry at them. "The Stallion in the Moon?" Sam had just gotten to that part.

"Y'know," Calamity chuckled, "Ah think ah remember my ma readin' me a story like that… only, it was a mare in the moon, if I recollect." Sam's eyebrows shot up, starting to see the pattern forming.

"That's because it's supposed to be The Mare in the Moon!" She almost shouted. Sam's mind was accelerating. From what he had read in the barely ruined books he could in the Ponyville Library, Equestria had been ruled by an immortal princess for millennia. That, and instead of in human history where males dominated everything for most of history, it was the opposite here.

"So let me try and figure out what's wrong with this stable," Sam said, putting the book back, "One; Instead of a very matriarchal society like Old Equestria seemed to be, down here it is a patriarchal, from the textbooks to the stories, and about five times worse." Pip nodded, seemingly agreeing with his train of thought.

"Well, ah suspect some of 'em were stallions t' begin with," Calamity muttered. Sam couldn't help but agree, having come from a more equal society-at least the ruins of one.

"Two!" Pip continued for him, though her voice sounded a little strained, "Not one story or textbook has anything but the vaguest references to the history or governance of Equestria." After shifting through the books a little bit, Sam could see that she was right. Now it was starting to come together, and it seemed Pip was starting to catch on too.

"Y'know," Calamity said, noticing how angry Pip was becoming, "Yer gonna burst somethin' if ya don't calm down a touch." Pip responded by throwing the book she had into the corner in anger. Sam stifled a chuckle as she went to the terminal to read the entries, leaving him examine the rest of the classroom. As he looked closer, he could see some small signs of a struggle of some sorts. Scuff marks on the ground where desks were suddenly and aggressively moved, papers that were on some scattered around on the floor, and even claw marks on the wooden surfaces...

He crept out of the room, shotgun still up. In the time he had been in he had seen seven blips, twice they showed up two at a time. His hunch of them in the ventilation ducts were reinforced as the ceiling above him emitted scratching when his trained ears tuned out the clanging of the ill-maintained pipes. A mix of a cat and a rattlesnake... He wasn't looking forward to when they showed. He ignored the raising of voices behind him, pressing forward.

He ducked into a storage room, a glowing terminal on a table at the end. He only partially relaxed when he checked in-between the crates on the shelves to make sure none of the buggers were hiding there. With the coast clear, he placed his shotgun on the small amount of table space available and began going through the entries, apparently from the perspective of one of the maintenance ponies.

Entry 1:

I cannot believe my luck. Persimmonie is one fine mare. The date last night went incredibly well. She even let me kiss her! And her little filly, Carrot Tail, seems to like me too. Even better, I kinda like her. I don't have to pretend like I thought I would just to spend some more time with her mother. In fact, we have a second date planned tomorrow night.

Oh, and Greyhorn finally fixed the lighting on level 2-B. That flickering was driving everypony bonkers.

Entry 2:

Dammit, of all the luck. First, the whole lighting strip on guess-which-level blows out, plunging the damned atrium into blackness in the middle of rush. Even worse, Persimmonie postponed our date. Some unicorn filly did something wonky to Carrot Tail's pet, and Persimmonie's been with her all day trying to keep the little cunt from drowning in her own tears. I take it back. I hate children.

Sam snickered at the last part of the entry. He had reasons to hate children, having come close to being turned into Swiss cheese at the hands of a bunch of ten year-olds barricaded in a cave.

Entry 3:

Got called to the Overstallion's office today. Big emergency that required my special talents. Any guesses? He locked himself out again. Again! This is the third time this week. Fortunately, any pony with half a lick of sense could get that thing open. Weakest damn lock I've ever seen. Still, just in case Greyhorn ever has to do it, I've left a handful of bobby pins and a copy of Today's Locksmith in the Maintenance locker room safe. I've even highlighted the most useful bits for him. So as long as he doesn't forget the password, even he shouldn't have a problem. And I made the password his name, so… oh hell, he'll still probably forget it.

Meanwhile, my love life's taken a turn for the worse. Persimmonie's filly is apparently in the clinic. I hear the cat attacked her. They'll probably have to put it down.

Entry 4:

Where the hell is Greyhorn? Idiot missed his whole damn shift today. Called up to his room, but no answer. Goddammit, I've got to do everything around here myself.

Oh, I replaced the entire lighting assembly up on level 2-B and guess what? We're still having problems. I swear to God the ponies who built this whole place must have been cutting corners. Probably cheated Stable-Tec out of fat loads of money. I hope their asses melted when the megaspells hit.

Entry 5:

Still no Greyhorn. Talked with some others, and they haven't seen him either. Suggested I check medical. Would be just like him to find some way to fall and impale himself on his own horn.

Dammit, there's that scratching sound again. Something's managed to get into the ventilation system. I've removed several of the covers on this floor. Hopefully, whatever it is will fall out and I won't have to send some colt crawling in after it. Did I mention how much I hate children?

Double-dammit. I just spotted the thing staring down at me. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was Carrot Tail's damn cat. But they caught it and put it down yesterday.

Triple-dammit! The damn thing just bit me! I swear, I'm going to send a colt up there after it with a flamethrower!

"Hey, guys?" Sam asked behind his shoulder, feeling eyes that weren't apart of his group on the back of his head.

"Yeah?" Pip and Calamity asked, right behind him.

"Duck." He quickly twirled around while grabbing his shotgun, able to put one blast into the exposed vent ducts before one jumped out. The one that jumped away was very feline, only that its fur was replaced by scales, large fangs that didn't fit in its mouth, and the slits of the eyes going horizontal instead of vertical. The holes made by the lead pellets of the buckshot, however, began to leak blood.

The first one that jumped was thrown into the wall behind him on instinct by Littlepip, her and Calamity backing out of the room at his warning. The second flew past him and into the terminal. Sam quickly raised a hindleg and kicked out, nailing the bastard in the face. The pure kinetic force shattered its skull, sending shards of bone into its brain. He saw the first one quickly reorienting itself from its collision with the wall. Before he could do anything, Littlepip's hoof came flying at it, crushing its head in-between her hoof and the metal. She barely got a breather before the third one jumped out of the vent and landed in her mane, snagging itself in its knots.

"Get it off! Get it off!" She screamed, regressing into a filly. She involuntarily kicked out with her hindlegs. Because of the small amount of space, her legs landed on Sam's chest, sending him sailing backwards into the terminal, breaking it. He slumped down, wind knocked out of him and chest bruising. He barely looked up when he heard two deafening bangs in sync with each other, and being sprayed with the green blood of the creatures. He sighed and put his head back on the table, grateful that episode was over.

That was when he felt his skin catch alight. He looked down quickly and saw the blood that landed on his exposed fur was eating through his tissue like acid. The spatter of blood around his hindhoof began to burn as well, the flesh melting off of the bones to reveal its shiny surface after going through the tough boot leather. The drops that didn't land on his skin-his hat-also had holes burned into them, the excess blood on the brim dripping down and landing on his cheek, a few centimeters below his eye. He choked back a scream, instead slamming his unaffected foreleg into the floor, denting it with a loud bang. A pool of water quickly formed in it. Pip and Calamity were snapped out of their small moment by the bang and looked down to his position on the floor. Dogmeat weaved through their legs and sniffed at the holes, before being pushed back by Sam's leg.

"Back it up, bud," He groaned, "Don't get any on you." He slowly getting back up on his hooves. He quickly checked his hoof, seeing that he cracked it open, leaking blood. His wounds, thankfully, had cauterized, but had also marred his bones' metallic surface. While painful, the corrosion would eventually go away.

Eventually.

Now, he looked like a thoroughly pissed Terminator. But instead of John Connor, he was trying to find...he didn't even know. And that fact pissed him off even more. Why were they down here when they could've just shut the door and left? Of course he knew the answer, he had been in the same shoes as Pip more than once.

He grabbed his shotgun off of the ground, shakily putting it onto his back. He slowly passed his two companions, his injured hooves making bloody prints on the ground. His hindleg scraped across the metal floor, doing more damage to the floor's surface. In the almost deathly silence that the entire Stable was in, both of them could hear what Sam muttered under his breath.

"Let's get whatever we came for and get the fuck out."

---

Three quick guided shots from Little Macintosh blasted apart three more of the creatures. While these creatures were stealthy and quick, they were weak. Another was surgically torn apart by a blast from Sam's shotgun, his sight increasingly blurry. His only hope for hitting anything was, as much as he hated it, spray and pray. Dogmeat was huddled under his torso, on orders of his master in fear of his quick theory on these things; whatever their blood was made of, it could burn through almost anything foreign to this universe, hence the holes in his hat. He grimaced as he fired again; He would have to fix that.

Calamity whinnied and shook his wings as more creatures jumped onto him, piercing his hide with their sharp claws. One that he threw off was turned into mush as he buck-kicked one, the extreme force and the fragility of its body too much.

"How many of these l'il monsters ya reckon we got?" Calamity asked rhetorically in the midst of it all, his voice pained. Pip missed once while firing at one of the creatures, but got the second. The magnum round blew the creature apart as soon as it hit its chest. One more got past her defenses, however. It sunk its teeth into his neck, blood instantly spurting out of the wound. To Calamity's defense, he only cried out a little.

But at the cry of pain, something in Sam's mind clicked. His pupils constricted, his vision cleared, and his mind lost its fog. The last time he had gotten lazy, people had died. People that shouldn't have died, people that would've lived if not for his carelessness. It wouldn't happen again, not on his life.

He quickly spun around, VATS activated. Time slowed to a crawl as the creature's body parts were surrounded by green grids. The head quickly came out of Calamity's neck, blood covering its mouth. Chance of hit; 67% He took the chance, selected his target, and fired.

Every single one of the pellets, by the grace of everything above them, met their targets. In an instant, there was no head to speak of. The body flew off of the pegasus before Pip could even register what had happened. Time went back to normal as VATS turned off, allowing Pip to assess Calamity while Pip worked.

"Damn those things got a bite," He commented, groaning as he tired to touch the wound. Pip swatted the hoof away.

"Hold still, let me look," She told him. She began wrapping magical bandages around the wound, of which she was running out. While they were distracted with that-including Dogmeat, who realized that Calamity was a better option for cover-Sam began to unleash.

With his .45 and his shotty in his TK, his slaughter of the demonic creatures seemed to be a dance. While carefully making sure that no blood got on his person or his possessions, he filled all with holes. While one was being torn to ribbons with two shotgun blasts, another two were being quickly and efficiently killed with single shots to the head. Within fifteen seconds, five monsters lay around him dead.

Breathing heavily through the nose, Sam put his pistol back in its holster. He nodded at his handiwork; That was one of the best workouts he'd had in months. He turned around, looking to his friends and dog. While Calamity looked like he wanted to stay and hold his wound, they seemed ready to leave.

"Pip?" Sam asked, "Any ideas?" It did not take long for an answer, coming nonverbally as she took the lead. Calamity and Sam shared a look before following.

They walked through ankle-high water in the Maintenance section, the trip long and wet. Pip took time to go through the safe with the password she had found, finding more bobby pins and a the lockpicking magazine. While Sam would've done the same thing, he could see Calamity slowly growing paler and more sickly. Sam himself wasn't doing hot either, almost completely sure the cracked hoof had become infected in the murky water. Thankfully, they found the corpses of the creatures floating inside flooded rooms. Apparently they couldn't swim.

Sam quoted Three Dog in his mind. 'Praise Jesus, praise Jesus!'

His praise ended when he started to see the skeletons. The first ones were by themselves, in hiding places (one fell out of a weakened panel in the wall). As they got closer to the atrium, they started showing up in groups of four and five. Sam glanced behind him, and saw Pip's wide eyes and shallow breathing. He grimaced, remembering his same reaction in Vault 106. The untold amounts of death in a place so similar to the home you had lived all of your life... He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Pip, the pressure and emotions too much, stopped to lean against the wall. He had to stop Calamity, who would've continued on. His pain-dulled mind was running on autopilot. Sam leaned him against the wall too, making sure he didn't faint.

'Probably poison,' Sam thought. His mouth twisted into a frown. 'Yeah, definitely poison.' They needed to keep going, to find a clinic for the antidote...if it existed.

The next moment, nine of the creatures jumped out of hiding places in an ambush.

Two were almost immediately cleaved in half by the Equestrian debut of the shocksword, the volts burning through their flesh in a similar fashion to a fictional lightsaber. The wounds were instantly cauterized, preventing the blade from being destroyed by the acidic blood. Two more were killed by one .45 bullet from the M1911A1, and one was ripped to shreds with a blast from the shotgun. Another two were blown apart by two quick shots from Little Macintosh, and another was cut down b four bullets form Calamity's battle saddle, leaving one more. The creature seemed to be bigger than the others, its scales larger and seemingly more hardened. It leaped off of the wall with speed greater than he had ever seen, faster than a Radscorpion's stinger. With the way its claws and fangs were looking, he wasn't going to make it out of the Stabe.

He felt an itch in the base of his horn, and Pip saw a golden aura pulse out of the area for a moment, lacing around the usual green. Sam could feel something...unlock in his mind. Time slowed, the monster intent on killing him going through the air as fast as molasses. he knew that this feeling wasn't VATS, if it was the monster could be going as fast as the others. Now, nanoseconds were going as fast as minutes. He felt that itch spread all over his horn, the gold magic encasing it. The itch ws unbearable, as if begging to be released.

Do it.

A large bolt of his normal green magic erupted from the tip of his horn, connecting with the monster in an instant. Because time so still incredibly slow, Sam quickly guessed that it was going at a fraction of the speed of light.

Time went back to normal, and the monster was launched into the wall. The steel underneath crumpled at the impact, and the monster was almost atomized. Its liquefied remains dripped out of the hole and onto the floor, pooling inside a dent.

Sam slumped back onto the opposite wall, the magical discharge taking some energy out of him. He quickly got off after catching his breath; He had to stay alert. He looked over and saw Pip rewrapping Calamity's wound, deep in thought.

"You good, Calamity?" Sam asked, reloading his shotgun before putting all of his weapons back in their respective places on his body. The marksman didn't respond, his eyes glazed over.

"Okay, that's it," Pip said as she finished wrapping the bite, "I've been a dumb pony." She began pacing, her eyes glued to the water-covered floor. "We turn around, gallop back to the entrance as fast as we can, barricade ourselves and wait the damn storm out. Then we leave and close the door behind us." Sam looked down the hallway, deeper into the Stable.

"We're too far in to backtrack now," Sam argued, "Might as well see what's down here to scavenge." He peered around a corner, and saw a door at the end of the hallway, with a flickering sign that said 'clinic' above it.

"Ahm… actually… Ah vote we continue t' the clinic." They both turned around, their eyes widening as they saw his state.

Ah'm guessin' y'all…" He managed to say, wobbling on his legs, "…would keep somethin' there for… y'know… poison?" He passed out and fell to the ground. The clank echoed seemingly across the whole Stable.

"Calamity!" Pip shouted, running over to the pegasus. Sam glanced at Dogmeat, who let out a snort. Sam groaned in response before walking over to check him out.

Things got a little more complicated.

---

Chimera

from the personal notes of Doctor Brierberry, Head of Medicine, Stable 24

I've chosen to call this new species "chimera" for what I feel are suitably obvious reasons. The creature is a result of a wild magical burst from a rather exceptionally gifted filly named Quanta. In a flash of uncontrolled magical power, Quanta managed to fuse several creatures within her vicinity into a single being-a fully functional and completely new life form.

The initially created chimera took several days to molt before revealing its true nature, during which time another filly, Carrot Tail, was attacked by the creature. She was rushed to the clinic, but perished within hours from an unknown magical toxin injected into the child by the creature.

After molting, the chimera subsequently attacked a maintenance worker by the name of Greyhorn. This time, both the chimera and its victim were fully mature. Based on the case of Carrot Tail, we treated Greyhorn with antivenom spells and potions, but to no avail. Greyhorn lasted three times as long as Carrot Tail, and was in extreme agony for most of that period. It was only after Greyhorn's death that we learned the key component of the chimera's make-up.

As you will be able to see from the images I am having attached to this document, the feline and serpentine elements of the fusion are quite obvious. (See images C-1 and C-2) What we initially didn't realize, couldn't have suspected, is that there had been some manner of insect in the classroom when Roe cast her spell, and that too was infused into the creature on a deeply inherent level. You see, the fangs of the chimera aren't so much like the fangs of a rattlesnake, but more akin to an insect's ovipositor.

The behavior of this species is extremely aggressive, attacking any suitable host within which it can inject its eggs. Over the course of a single day, those eggs will mature within the host, after which a litter of new, baby chimera will dig their way out of the infected pony, ultimately killing the host if the pony is not already dead. In the case of Greyhorn, five new chimera erupted from his body less than an hour after he was pronounced dead. (See image C-3) You can imagine the look on my assistant's face. (But you don't have to. See image C-4)

Fortunately, from the case of Greyhorn, and the baby chimera specimens he provided us with, we have been able to devise and conjure an anti-chimera potion. Unfortunately, some of the herbs required were in tragically short supply, so there is a high probability that we will not have sufficient quantities for everyone. The Overstallion is keeping one bottle locked away in his office, along with the recipe. Meanwhile, I am storing the rest in the medical refrigerator here in the clinic while I wait for the Overstallion's decision on how to implement dispersal.

"Well, that's going to be a problem, ain't it?" Sam asked. Pip jumped, realizing she was reading aloud. "An' those skeletons righ' there ain't a very good omen." He looked to her horrified face, then chuckled. "Don' worry, ah got 'I'm under real nice with some morphine. A bit loopy, but can't feel 'r hear 'none." She sighed, a small amount of relief lifted off her shoulders.

"What's with the accent?" She asked, as she opened up the fridge with a dozen skeletons in front of it, desperately hoping that there was a bottle of the potion in it. Dogmeat had been preoccupied with sniffing them.

"Good bedside mann'r," He answered softly, injecting another stimpak into Calamity's neck. He tossed it to the ground, joining four others and a small, circular plastic container. "Mah pa was a doctor, fer a charity group out West. Followers of the Apocalypse." He began to unwrap the bandages around his wound, quickly becoming tangled. "Now you, missy, are a terrible nurse." He pulled out his trench knife and cut them loose. The glint off of the stainless steel blade hit something around the pegasus' neck. "Now, whadda we have here..."

He took the pulled the dogtags off of his neck, waking him. The pegasus coughed as Pip walked to the Plexiglas-like window that overlooked the atrium. She turned around, weighing her options, and saw the knife hovering inches over Calamity's head, and the Wanderer's murder-filled eyes darting from the tags to his patient.

"Pa?" Calamity asked, his voice weak, "Tha' you?" Sam's eyes blinked hard, shaking himself out of his trance. He tucked both the knife and tags away, the latter going in one of the pouches inside his duster.

"It's tha Wand'r, Calamity," He answered in a soft drawl similar to his patient's, which he had gotten from his times out West, "Now you don't worry none, ah'll git ya all fixed up."

"Ya sound like mah pa..." He said, falling back into sleep, "Why am ah so...sleepy..."

"Putting ya under, partner," Sam answered, patting his foreleg, "It'll make workin on ya a million times easier, an' ya won't feel ah thing."

"Tha's...good..." Calamity sighed once last time before passing out completely. Sam grabbed a sheet form the ground and threw it over his unconscious body. He grabbed his shotgun from his leaning position on the gurney.

"The stimpaks will delay the venom," He told Pip, looking out the same window as her, "It seems to drain energy for the babies to grow. He's got about half a day." He took a glance at her, noticing she hadn't back. "So, you got a plan?"

"Chimeras are all over the atrium," She told him. He checked to see fit the same two dozen chimeras were still where he had seen them a few seconds earlier.

"Yep."

"The entrance to the Overstallion's office is in there."

"That it is."

"And I need to get in there."

"So you do." He glanced over to her. "Still have that Stealth Boy?"

"Stealth BUCK," Pip corrected, pulling the device out. Sam shrugged, knowing the simple plan already.

"Go for it." That stopped Pip's train of thought.

"Wait, really?" She asked, "Not gonna try and stop me or anything? Not even complain?" Sam chuckled.

"Calamity might've," He said as he nodded over to the unconscious stallion, "But I know better than to argue against a women like you. Besides, can't leave a friend behind."

"Friend?" She looked to the small scar on his forehead, "But he shot you. Well, he shot me, and KILLED you." Sam smiled.

"You want to know how I met one of my friends, a man I consider a brother?" Pip looked back to Calamity, then nodded. If what Sam had said was true, they had time.

"I had taken a job for this bartend, taking his bodyguard with me for about a week. He was the perfect guard; Large, strong, and silent. So I tried to befriend him. Talked his ear off. Saved each other's lives a few times. And then, when I returned him...he was ordered to kill me." Pip could see his distant look, his eyes glazed over as he remembered. "There was a standoff for about five minutes. His gun was at me, but I didn't point one at him. I trusted him. He was a friend." He closed his eyes, a smile on hs face. "Shot rang out, and we were friends ever since."

"So he shot the boss guy?" Sam chuckled and pulled down his collar, showing her a jagged scar right above his collar bone.

"He shot us both," He told her, "The slug went through me and into his skull 'with minimal damage'." Sam smiled, putting it back. "Dick just wanted payback back for Evergreen-" Calamity groaned on his gurney, a hoof falling off of his chest. Dogmeat regarded the noise before turning back to the scent-covered fridge.

"We're wasting time," Sam said, picking up his shotgun, "Get in, get the antidote, and come back as soon as possible." Pip nodded, putting the Stealth Buck on her PIP-Buck.

"Wish me luck," She said, turning to leave.

"Let's hope to God you won't need it," He muttered under his breath, resuming his vigil over the atrium.

"Besides, death'll be quick."

---

It took Pip nearly two hours to go through the atrium, get the antidote, and come back. When she walked in, her Stealth Buck finally running out of power, he was sticking a needle into his neck. The serum-a mix of stimpak fluid, Psycho, and New Vegas medicine powder-quickly entered his veins and began working its intended goal. The rage effect Psycho was cancelled out by the powder and the stimpak, only giving him a slight buzz. He turned around as Dogmeat stuck his head up from a bone he had been gnawing on.

"You got the antidote?" He asked, throwing the needle down. Pip took the bottle out of her saddlebag and floated it over. Sam uncorked it quickly, lightly slapping Calamity's face.

"Come on, boy," He said in his Dixie accent, "Got tha antidote righ' here." Calamity's eyes flickered as he became conscious once more.

"Ah hurt," He moaned, clutching his head as the feeling of the venom coursing through his body returned. Sam groaned.

"Effects gone," He grumbled, sitting him up, "Ponies filter out effects faster than humans. Noted." Pip helped Calamity to his hooves, steadying him as he swayed. Sam uncorked the bottle and lifted it to his mouth. Calamity gulped it down, allowing the potion to enter his stomach before passing out again. Sighing, he hoisted the pegasus onto his back, making sure he wouldn't slide off. He nodded forward.

"Lead the way," He whispered, pulling out his Deagle. Pip nodded and pulled out Little Macintosh, reloading as they sneaked out, Dogmeat in between them.

Sam placed Calamity into the looted box of dynamite at Pip's orders, making sure to close it. Since they needed to get out as fast as possible and Dogmeat couldn't defend him form any attack, they made sure he was hidden before going their separate ways. They spent hours looting almost the entire Stable, making sure to prop open all of the doors with nearby furniture. Since there were two of them, however, the time of the whole process was cut in half.

They rendezvoused at the clinic, making sure to pick it clean. After the contents of the room were cleaned, Pip pulled out a stick of dynamite and began to light it. She was stopped by Sam's hoof, which had a tin can with wires and a grenade pin sticking out of its lid.

"Watch and learn," He told her, walking out of the room. She followed him, half out of obedience and half out of fear. He slowly floated a metal garbage can into the door frame, closing the door and wedging it open. He pulled the pin and tossed it inside. He quickly backpedaled, Pip turning around and following him. A moment later the room exploded in blue flame, the fire almost reaching them from their position ten feet away. Pip blinked, marveling at the seemingly homemade device.

"The bones in there are glass," Sam explained, holding another up, "And the radiation should cook any chimera that come in alive if they aren't rad-proof." He put it back into his duster and turned back around. "Now we leave."

Within the hour, all four of the party was at the cave opening. The storm was still raging outside, thunderclaps constantly ringing throughout the sky.

"So now what?" Sam asked, slowly getting Calamity on his hooves. While still a little wobbly, he was fine.

"We take all of this dynamite we totally didn't loot-" Pip held up the fifteen sticks, bundled up into three groups of five with duct tape. "-And flood the cave." Sam smiled.

"Nice," He complimented, "But we can sell most of these at a nice price in New Appleloosa. This, however..." He pulled out a small bomb-shaped device form his satchel. "I can't sell this, and I have a little too many." Calamity's eyes bulged out of his sockets when he saw the nuclear hazard sign painted on its hull.

"Is tha' what I think it is?" He asked. Sam nodded, a small evil grin on his face. "Tha' may be a lil overkill, Wand'r." Pip grumbled.

"So how is this going down?" She asked. Sam flew up to the cave ceiling and wedged the bomb in-between some rocks right above the cave opening.

"First off, one guys start running out of this cave as fast as you can." He smacked the end of the bomb.

---

Sam sat on top of a pile of rocks outside of New Appleloosa, on a small ledge that was reminiscent of a couch due to its size. In his aura was a bottle of whiskey, and beside him on a small ledge was his hat and his Deagle. His blonde hair shifted in the small breeze, the sun setting on the horizon in front of him while a herd of bovines wandered on the desert plains below him.

Sam took a long swig from the bottle, lowering it and regarding the label with disdain afterward. Blackwater, Dad's favorite...

"There ya are," A voice said from above. Sam made to point his Deagle at the source, but stopped when he saw it was Calamity. "Pip was worried, thought ya wandr'd off er somethin'." Sam chuckled, looking back to the view.

"Can't blame her, it's in the name," He replied, scooting over slightly. "Sit down, stay awhile." Calamity flew down to the small rock couch, sitting down with a clop. "Thirsty?" Calamity accepted the bottle almost eagerly, taking a gulp.

"Good hooch," Calamity complimented. The two sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the sunset.

"So why are you really here?" Sam asked. Calamity was only slightly surprised, having seen how skilled this stallion was since he had woken up from his body bag.

"Ah wanted ta thank ya," He answered "Fer saving mah life." Sam smiled, taking another swig.

"It's what Dad would've done," He replied. Calamity smiled whimsically.

"He seems like ah good stallion." Sam's smile vanished.

"He was." Calamity's smile left as well, taking another drink. Sam breathed in, closing his eyes and feeling the wind go through his mane.

"I left my home because of him," He said after exhaling, "He had left me while it was going through a crisis. He was my rock, he was always there. And he left without saying goodbye." He opened his eyes. "I followed him all across the Wasteland, getting him out of hell just to be able to look him in the eye." He looked back to Calamity, anger in his eyes. "And I saw him die right in front of me a day later." Calamity grimaced.

"Who're the crooks?" He asked after Sam went back to his bottle. Sam gave him a sad smile.

"Called themselves the Enclave." Calamity's eyes widened.

"Really now?"

"Yeah." He held up Calamity's holotags in his TK, with the trench knife flying out of his duster and to Calamity's throat. "Ain't that a coincidence?" Calamity's brow furrowed.

"Ah left them a long time ago," He spat out, "Don't ya DARE compare me ta them!" Sam narrowed his eyes, but still lowered his knife.

"Noted," He said at last, giving him the bottle, "You're unwavering response just saved your life, Deadshot. Means that you truly do hate them." Calamity took the whiskey, but didn't drink.

"What tha hell is tha supposed ta mean?" He asked. Sam grinned evilly.

"I've heard the same lines from a dozen before you. They didn't pass." He leaned back. "That means I can and will trust you." He pulled out another bottle of liquor, a Scotch. He leaned it towards him after opening it. The two clinked bottles.

"To newfound friendship," Sam muttered before drinking. Calamity, still shaken, smiled.

"Ta newfound friendship." He drank too, enjoying the burning going down his throat.

Away from the virgin eyes of Pip, the two stallions hit off a lasting friendship...that would leaves ripples in the Wasteland with her forever.

---

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Wasteland Concoction(1)-Your risky experimentation has paid off. Your resistance to toxins has greatly increased.

Quest Perk added: Not-so Lone Wanderer-the more warm and friendly atmosphere of the Equestrian Wasteland is getting to you, allowing you to make friends easier than ever before. Charisma is increased +2.

---

About 10,800 overall with 24 Part 1. Noice.

"Away with the old, embrace the new, right?" Littlepip asked no one, "Apple Whiskey, another of your specials, please!" Sam snorted at the comment, his head low and face shadowed by his hat. Pip would never know how much he agreed, with all of the shit he had seen the old world cause.

The bartender of the establishment-known as Turnpike Tavern-he, Calamity, Pip, and even Dogmeat (though he was in the corner gnawing on a bone) poured Pip another glass while waving his horn over seven apples, the health of the fruit Sam had only seen a few times in his life. One after another, the apples were turned into bottles of the bartender's apparently famous (and delicious, as he took a sip) apple whiskey. Calamity and several mares in the tavern whooped and applauded.

"Dunno why I was surprised," Pip tried to whisper to Calamity, "You're leader is a stallion, after all." Sam snorted, and Calamity did a double-take.

"My leader?" He asked, "Ah don't have a leader!"

"I've seen a couple of Wasteland governments in my time," Sam reminisced, "I know what they look like, and there ain't one here." Pip waved both of them off.

"I heard him, over the spritebot. When it wasn't being Watcher." Sam's eyes widened while he drank some of the apple whiskey. Shut the fuck up, 'Drunk Littlepip', he thought. He would have to give her a stern talking-to when the next opportunity arose; Watcher seemed like the kind of entity that didn't want to be known by many. Calamity looked at her with a confused look before reeling his head back and laughing.

"What? Red Eye?" He asked. He snickered before turning to the crowd. "Hey, everypony! Lil'pip here thought Red Eye was our leader!" The entire tavern erupted in laughter. Even Sam joined in, though hat was because everyone around him was being ridiculous.

"Good Goddess, girl!" A mare from farther down the counter cried, "Red Eye ain't nothing but a puffed up prancer! Hell, Ah don't even listen to that broadcast! Not when DJ's on the dial!"

"Huh?" Sam chuckled some more, sipping his new apple whiskey; Pip was dumb when she drank.

"A-yep," A buck said from a poker-like card game, gathering his winnings, "Just let ol' Red Eye try an' come out here and make New Appleloosa part o' his so-called 'new world'! Ah'll personally take all his unity an' brotherhood an' shove it right up his-"

"Just deal!" One of his friends shouted, looking at his cards in horror much like his other buddies.

"So..." Pip tired to reason through an alcohol-influenced mind, "The not-Watcher voice on the sprite-bot is Red Eye, and he's not your leader..."

"What's this watcher stuff?" The mare beside Sam asked, "Those sprite-bot's are just radios. Red Eye can't actually watch ponies through them. They ain't cameras!" She turned to him, a curious (and slightly lustful) expression on her muzzle. "I mean, could you imagine if he could...?" Sam smiled ruefully, taking another sip.

"Not hard to," He told her, "What else you think those eyes are for?" The drunken mare was put into deep thought with the question.

"Hey, Apple Whiskey!" Another buck shouted form his position on the opposite end of the counter, "Put DJ on!" The bartender looked to a radio that was apparently wired to several speakers around the room and switched it on with his magic. The speakers began to pour out a beautiful voice, one of the best Sam had ever heard.

"How did this happen? What have I done?

I was only trying to help, but I caused so much pain.

I wish I could hide. Wish I could run.

I wish I could find a way to do it all over again..."

Sam's slightly happy mood ended, as he took in the words and the tone in which the mare was saying them. He began to reminisce to his first few fights against the Enclave, the lives he had ruined in his teenage bloodlust...

"...I lost sight of the war while fighting my battles.

And now I carry the weight of the world on my saddle..."

Sam smiled bitterly, looking to his situation since his storm of Adams. How many former friends that alienated him, losing sight of his part of the Good Fight for some damn revenge. And the responsibilities given to him afterwards, being the Brotherhood's go-to one man army and then the Journeyman Protector of the Wastelands...its Lone Wanderer...

"Who the hell is this 'DJ' anyway?" He asked, trying to get the unwanted memories out of his head. The answers came at a volley faster than the Brotherhood's most souped- up miniguns.

"DJ Pon3, of course!"

"There's always a DJ Pon3!"

"Best music in the Equestrian Wasteland!"

"Yeah, all, what, twelve songs? Twenty?"

"He's a ghoul pony. Been around forever."

"No he's not. They keep changing. Back when I was a filly, DJ was a mare!"

"Ah hear he's a pegasus. He's got station up in the clouds. That's how he always knows everything what's goin' on."

"That's stupid. Everypony knows DJ Pon3's station comes outta Tenpony Tower in the Manehatten Ruins!" Sam's ears went up at this answer, cataloging the names for later. Too strange...

"He is too a ghoul pony! He's been around since before the war!"

"Ah heard the original DJ Pon3 was actually a mare named Vinyl Scratch who was killed when the zebra balefire wiped Manehatten. But her nephew was spared, bein' in Tenpony an' all, an' took up the mantle."

"I heard it was her sister." Calamity looked over to Littlepip and Sam, a smile on his face.

"There's always a DJ Pon3." Sam smirked, wondering if Three Dog would ever be impersonated like that after he passed.

"How can I fix this? How many times must I try? Please, this time, let me get it right!"

The music finally stopped. Sam looked at his bottle, which was almost empty. Another song like that and he wouldn't have enough whiskey to get through it. But instead of another sob story in musical form, a voice came over the airwaves. A voice to one very similar to another back home.

"This is DJ Pon3, and that was Sweetie Belle, singing about that one great truth of the wasteland: every pony has done something they regret. And now, my little ponies, it's time for the news! Now you ponies remember when I told you 'bout those two ponies who crawled themselves out of Stable Two? Well, this ain't about them. Well, completely. I've been gettin' reports that Stable Dweller #2 was primed to be slaver chow near the good town of Ponyville, until...he happened. He struck out like a scalpel, saving the filly and coming back for Round 2 minutes later. And how does this mysterious stallion top saving a naïve Stable Dweller from being a slaver cum dumpster? By wiping out EVERY. LIVING. THING. In the town of Ponyville. And according to the captives he rescued-including the beloved author of the Wasteland Survival Guide, Ditzy Doo-it wasn't pretty. From all of us in the Equestrian Wasteland, we thank this Lone Wanderer! And now the weather: cloudy everywhere, with a chance of rain, gunfire and bloody dismemberment..."

Pip and Sam were stunned with the news broadcast; Pip, for being called a cum dumpster on air on he most popular-and most likely only-free radio broadcast, and Sam, for-

"Why is it always the Lone Wanderer?" He asked in a low voice, "Why can't it be-" He gulped down the rest of his apple whiskey, which was quickly replaced by another one by Apple Whiskey-'The Not-So-Lonely Wanderer'? Or 'The Wanderer With No Friends'? Or-" Calamity fought through his hysterics.

"Wait, ya (ha ha ha!) are meanin' to tell us tha' this ain't the first time ya been called that?" Sam grumbled, taking another swig before answering.

"Back home, we had Galaxy News Radio, with Three Dog disc jockeying it. As soon as I turned off that nuke, and cleared out that damn supermarket, it's been 'Lone Wanderer' this and 'Kid' that." Sam's brow furrowed. "Anyone else wanna declare war on all DJs with me?" The tavern erupted with laughter, but Sam knew that most of the laughs were either to gain favor with he new Wasteland Hero or they were incredibly drunk or following everyone else's example. There was a lull in chatter for everyone to hear the last part of the news broadcast.

"One last thing, the other Stable Dweller was last seen out near Appleloosa. My prayers go out t' that one. And that's the truth of the matter. Now back to the music. Here's Sapphire Shores singing 'How the Sun Can't Hide Forever'. From your lips to Celestia's ears, Sapphire!"

"Near Appleloosa?" Littlepip asked. "Near Appleloosa? I thought this was Appleloosa!" Calamity again laughed at her expense.

"No way, Lil'pip! This here's New Appleloosa! Ya can't have a new without havin' an old, now can ya?" His demeanor quickly changed. "Now, ya don't wanna be goin' anywhere near old Appleloosa, ya hear me? That's a slaver town!" Sam's brow furrowed; Now he knew where he was going to spend his free time the next time he got some.

"Well, there's no harm goin' up that way t' trade," Apple Whiskey said, "Ah sell a good bit o' my trademark apple whiskey to those folk." Sam froze.

"You…trade with slaver ponies!?" Pip asked, almost as stunned as Sam. Almost.

"Ayep," He answered, cleaning a shot glass with a cloth, "In fact, got a train headed out that way on the morrow."

"Trading with slavers..." Sam muttered, his temper rising to dangerous levels.

"Why ya think I never took up livin' here," Calamity whispered. While it sounded like a question, it was far from it; He was telling a fact.

Glass shattered, and everyone looked at the source. Sam's foreleg-which he had been using to hold his whiskey-was clenched tightly, shards of glass and a puddle of whiskey where his bottle was. There was a tinge of red in his eyes, his anger going on a magical level. He quickly pulled something out of his satchel with his TK and slammed it into the bar, embedding it into the bar and splintering the wood. Sam telekinetically grabbed Apple Whiskey by his throat and pulled him in close. Whiskey could smell the death on his coat.

"Keep the change," He said in a low and strange voice. He let go and stormed out, punching one of the swinging doors off of its hinges. Dogmeat obediently followed, picking up his bone as he left. The bar was stunned silent for a good minute, a dozen drunken minds trying to piece together what had just happened. Apple Whiskey and Pip both studied the items inside the hardwood bar; seven bullets, the largest either of them had ever seen.

"Looks a lot like a .50," Calamity observed while Pip tired to pry one out with her strong TK. The round didn't move an inch.

"I think they're from his pistol," Pip said, "You know, the big one?" Calamity nodded; He had seen the monster on his hip before, but hadn't seen it in action yet.

"Wha'd he do tha?" Apple Whiskey asked, fearing for his life, "Wha I say?" Calamity closed his eyes.

"Ah've only seen a select few ponies go off like tha when slavery was metioned..." He opened them, sadness in his eyes.

"Ah think Wand'r was a slave."

---

Sam (with Dogmeat underneath him for protection) stood in the pouring rain the next morning, watching the train about to leave the station to the slaver base. Every ounce of his being wanted to sneak on, reach the destination, and lay waste to everything...but something was holding him back. Someone was holding him back. His scowl somehow got deeper; He was the Lone Wanderer for a reason' Why couldn't he leave?

A pair of clops from behind him, a reminder of what kept him from small-scale genocide.

"Ah can't talk y'all outta this, can ah?" Calamity asked. Sam's head turned to the opposite of Calamity, seeing Pip beside him. He smiled lightly.

"No," He replied, speaking for both of them. Calamity smiled too.

"Well, then Ah'm comin' with ya. Always wanted t' take a shot at that damn place." He flexed his wings, the feathers lightly brushing the large guns of his battle saddle. "Figure, if there's three of us, might actually have a chance." Dogmeat barked, not wanting to be left out. Sam sighed, rubbing the Cattle Dog's head.

"Sorry, boy, but this'll be a stealth op," Sam told the dog, receiving a whine in response.

"Ah'll talk to Ditzy Doo fer supplies," Calamity continued, "Don't want neither of us t' run outta ammo up there. Or food. We c'n take the train up the mountains and out over the desert, but chances are, we'll be trottin' back.

His words left me feeling immensely relieved.

"Ah'll talk to Ditzy Doo fer supplies. Don't want neither of us t' run outta ammo up there. Or food. We c'n take the train up the mountains and out over the desert, but chances are, we'll be trottin' back." Sam didn't mind, it would remind him of Vegas. Minus the cazadors. And the Geckos. And the raging Bighorners. And a really annoying courier...

"Could you see if someone can keep an eye on 'Meat?" Sam asked, snapping out of his train of thought. Calamity nodded.

"Ah reckon I c'n convince Apple Whiskey to let 'im stay in the Turnpike fer a few nights." Sam nodded, relieved that one problem was taken care of.

"What about the slaves?" Pip asked, "How're we gonna get them safety?" Sam nodded, seeing where she was coming from.

"I don't think that the train ponies will be happy with robbing the town they're trading with, though." Pip grimaced at Sam's disregard for the slaves as property. But, of course, they were. He would know.

"But it's the only way!" Pip reiterated.

"Yer gonna hafta do some fast talkin' if ya wanna convince them o' anything like that," he replied, then seemed to have an idea. "Ah know somepony in town that jus' might have whatcha need t' pull that off." He trotted off with Dogmeat in tow, leaving Sam and Pip behind at the train.

"I'm gonna..." Pip began to say, her mind still cloudy, "Talk to ponies." Sam grinned.

"Have fun," He replied, lowering his attention to his Pip-Boy.

First, he checked the outside. His Pip-Boy-not only a prototype-was heavily modified, the olive grab box on the top and part of the bottom stolen form a Pip-Boy he had found in a Vault during his time in the Commonwealth, which had a access plug for that area and an improved holotape player. On the underside were three spikes that were designed to connect to his nervous system, giving him a much better VATS than the others and a HUD on the surface of his eye.

He sorted through his inventory, checking his ammo. His levels were green across the board, but his Deagle was a lot lower than the others. He checked his clothing, and smirked while he scrolled through it. His plan was-so far-a success. His medical supplies and food were both in the yellow, however. Hopefully that would change after the trip to Appleloosa...

He looked back up and walked over to Pip, who was conversing with one of the trainponies about train stuff.

"...Their ain't any coal in Equestria," He heard the trainpony say, "All the coal's in a far, far away land."

"Then… how… was the coal… supposed to get here?" Pip asked. Apparently there was no coal anywhere, making Sam grin a little. Coal wasn't a problem at all back home, not after his trip to the Appalachians.

"By train, o' course!" Pip looked like her head was about to explode. Sam heard splashes behind him, and saw Calamity trudging through the puddles minus Dogmeat.

"Oooooh!" He mock wailed in an attempt to be spooky, "All the coal's in strange far-away lands…full of zebras! OooOOOoooh!" Pip deadpanned at him.

"Done now?" Calamity furrowed his brow, seemingly fed up with her state of body and mind. He pulled a tin out of his saddlebag and gave to her in his mouth. Pip took it and levitated it close to her, reading the label.

"Those what are in there are called Party-Time Mint-als," He explained, "Brewed up using Mint-als an'… well, some other stuff. Guaranteed to make ya the life o' the party. Those things 'll clear up yer hangover, clear up yer head, an' make you the smoothest-talkin' pony in all the wasteland." Sam's brow furrowed.

"That shit back home is incredibly addictive," He said, "They barely work half the time, too. I left normal when I tried one." Calamity turned to him.

"Then how'd ya git out of any hangovers?" He asked. Sam shrugged.

"Toughed it out, and stayed away from places owned exclusively by slavers." Pip didn't care for the risks of its human counterpart. She trusted Calamity, and if it worked...

She popped one in her mouth, chewing slowly. Her eyes expanded wide as the drug entered her brain. Colors became more vibrant, the rain was much more visible, and her thinking became much faster and clearer. She smirked; Convincing those trainponies would be easy!

Sam sighed as she saw her large, confident smile, burying his face in his hoof. He looked back to Calamity.

"And thus begins the fall."

---

Pip watched what little landscape she could roll past through the passenger window of the train. Her thoughts were muddled, now that the Mint-als had worn off. Calamity had taken the tin away, making her cast glances at his saddlebags.

As her mind wondered to Ditzy Doo, Sam was in the caboose. He had stripped out of his clothes, leaving him naked. For some reason, he felt that it wasn't so different from the few occasions he wore casual clothes. He shook his head; He knew that it would be a long while before he got used to his new body. He looked down to his saddlebag, resting on the wooden wall, and pulled out new clothes. It was a BDU of the Yangtze Raiders, the Army unit that had almost single-handedly taken the river valley of the same name during the Sino-American War. Being a scholar of American history, he knew his life had been made a little better when he found it in a museum in Virginia. The camo pattern-a dark variant of Scorpion W2-was perfect for the night, especially in this downpour. He also took out combat armor plating, slipping the polymer armor in slots on the outside of the BDU. Sam noticed that his outfit had no holes for his wings. He nodded, satisfied; now it would be easier to masquerade as a unicorn.

He pulled out two more items form his satchel; His upgraded gas mask, and a heavily armored combat helmet painted a mottled black. He put his mask on first, a scratch from Ponyville still prominent on its side. The padded inside of his helmet fit comfortably on his new head, and had no problems with the helmet. No wonder, the M50 WAS designed for compatibility with the helmet, modeled after the German Stahlhelm. It took him a moment to realize that the helmet also had a hole in it for his horn.

Sam nodded, everything in order. He looked like a mercenary; A well equipped mercenary, mind you, but a mercenary nonetheless. He put his clothes in his satchel, put the Deagle, .45, both his shiskebab and shocksword, hunting rifle, and shotgun on his person, and got back into the passenger car.

"-pony to take everything this world throws at her and not lose," Pip said as he walked in, "Joy." His heavy footfalls alerted the two to his presence, and alerted they were. Pip gasped and jumped back, repeating the action as lightning flashed outside. Calamity aimed his battle saddle at him. His jaw dropped and his weapons were lowered as he realized it was Sam.

"Wand'r?" He asked slowly, "Tha' you, partner?" Sam responded by pulling out his Deagle, slowly walking over.

"I'm here to chew ass and kick bubblegum," He said, his voice deepened and distorted by the vocabulator, "And I'm all out of ass." Calamity shrunk ever so slightly.

"Woah..." Pip finally relaxed, laughing at the over-exaggerated accent. "What're you supposed to be?" Sam shot his head over, making Pip flinch again. She remembered the first time she had seen him in that mask...

"Think of me as a soldier of fortune," He answered, still using the vocabulator. His façade finally broke, and he grinned under his mask. He quickly turned the vocabulator off with a small burst of magic. "It's my disguise for getting in," He answered, "I'll get in directly and scope out the area for this...Velvet Remedy, right?" Pip nodded. "While you TRY to sneak around and find her from the shadows."

"Wha' about me?" Calamity asked.

"You'll be on Overwatch," He answered, "Providing sniper support when possible-" Another bolt of lightning flashed through the sky again. "Well, if possible, and jump down into the fray if needed or wanted." Calamity nodded, a frown on his face; It made sense, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"So," Pip asked, "When do we start?" Sam looked to the ceiling, pattering rain present on the other side.

"I have an idea..."

---

"...Which could have been better." The rain was whipping at their hair and bodies as they shakily stood on the roof on the passenger car. Littlepip had almost slipped and fallen off twice, and Calamity's wings were soaked to the point that he was worried that they wouldn't work. Sam, however, was absolutely fine under his armor.

"Ya ready?" Calamity asked both of them. Pip nodded, and allowed Calamity to wrap his forelegs around her small frame. Calamity unfurled his wings and let the wind catch under them, allowing him to glide to a fat-approaching wind. Sam took two steps back, breathing in and out quickly in give him temporary confidence. Nodding, he sprinted and jumped, almost slipping off. As he got to the middle of his arch, he wrapped himself in his own aura and threw himself upwards a few feet. His magical boost got him onto the ridge, sliding a few feet as he landed. He looked to his companions, who were both covered him mud and laughing. His eye twitched.

"Knock that the fuck off!" He shouted though the wind, making them stop immediately. Neither of them were used to the mechanical feel of his vocabulator. "There's a time and place, and this ain't either!" They nodded in shame, getting up and wiping themselves off. Sam narrowed his eyes and executed a mental command. The visor of his mask-crafted by himself and Head Scribe Rothchild as a small side project-magnified, so he could see the ramshackle-ness that was Old Appleloosa, filled with Pre-War wooden buildings, makeshift metal huts, boxcars and cages. Pip did the same with a pair of binoculars and Calamity with Pip's sniper rifle. The train they were on screeched into station.

"Catwalks all over, manned," Sam noted out loud, "...Cages near walls, occupied, can't free them until guards are taken out." He set his visor to NV and looked to Pip. "Pip, on me." She looked to him with a weird expression. He sighed. "Follow me." Calamity grunted.

"Ah didn't come all this way t' stay back," He complained. Sam turned his head the other direction to give him a hard stare.

"It wouldn't do these slaves any good if we get capped by some fucker we can't see," He replied. He nudged his shoulder in a friendly manner. "That's where you come in." He nudged Pip and jumped down. Pip sighed.

"See ya." She looked down, the darkness enveloping the Wanderer. She gulped.

"I hope."

---

Sam and Pip were both frozen, stuck in a sticky situation. They were almost to the fence when they both noticed the bright orange mines, uncovered by the rain. Pip noticed first with a stray flash of lightning, and Sam a moment later with his Night Vision. He cursed himself for seeing them sooner.

"Well, shit," He whispered.

"Hey, who's there?" Someone shouted on the catwalk.

"Stealth, now," Sam ordered. Pip scrambled to pull out one of Sam's few Stealth Boys, luckily compatible with her PIP-Buck. She disappeared as Sam lit a flare. The guard jumped back, not expecting the intruder to expose himself... or be wearing a lightweight version of power armor.

"A guy in need of some caps," Sam answered in a non-distorted, gruff voice. Pip, invisible behind him, noted that he sounded a decade older. Her brow furrowed; She didn't even know how old he was. "Want to open the damn door? Or am I gonna have to do it myself?"

"Alright! Alright!" The guard shouted, "Gee wiz..." He nodded to the other alert guard, who opened the gate he was stationed at. "Mines'r switched off, come on in." Sam nodded as he jogged quickly to the gate, Pip beside him. While she split off into a nearby shack before her Stealth Boy ran out, Sam was met by the slaver guard stationed by the gate.

"I'll escort you to the boss," He told him, levitating an assault rifle in his magic, "I'm Killblade." Sam threw his cheap flare into a quickly forming puddle.

"Charmed," He sarcastically replied, "Now where's your boss? My wallet's getting hungry." Killblade huffed, and nodded forward. Sam followed him, scanning the area and mapping it out in his head.

"So what kind of job ya lookin' for?" Killblade asked.

"One that pays well," He snapped in response. Behind them in the shack near the entrances came a shout and two bangs. Sam and Killblade turned around and to look at the source of the noise. Sam slowly backed up, drawing his weapon.

"What was that?" Killblade asked as three more shots sounded from the shack. Sam cocked his Deagle.

"My signal." The last thing Killblade heard was the bang.

Slavers all in town and on the catwalks quickly became battle-ready, eager to kill the two intruders. One of those slavers was inside the wooden building beside him, a sword in her mouth. Sam ducked under the swing and quickly drew and ignited the shiskebab and shocksword. Both blades went straight into her neck, burning, electrocuting, and cutting into her body all at the same time. She was dead before her body hit the ground.

Sam pulled out the swords, noticing how the rain evaporated on the gas-lit flame and electric current. He reached into his duster and pulled out his trench knife, fastening it to his right forehoof. He grinned under his helmet as he saw about nine slavers in front, both on the road and on the catwalks.

The next few minutes were a blur to him, carving the slavers within reach into two, three, and sometime four pieces while exploding the heads of the slavers tryin to snipe him on the catwalks with his Deagle. His wave of carnage led him to a large barn in the center of town, light and music erupting from its cracks and windows. He could've sworn he saw Pip climb onto the catwalks and enter in through the two story, but that was when the slaver with the flamer decided to say hi.

With only an assault rifle in his telekinetic possession, he kicked in the front door. In front of him was a scene typical in Western movies; Poker tables, women/mares in frilly skirts being chatted up by burly men/slash stallions, a piano playing itself, bar, and the outlaws sulking both in the corners and in the middle of the room. And on the stage was what he had assumed was his target, if the looks and the voice were anything to go by.

Velvet Remedy.

---

EDIT: Finally realized how much 500 pounds in 3 and New Vegas is. Sam has about 150 pounds of gear on him, with 320 at maximum. Sorry for the inconvenience.

---

Footnote: Level up.

New Perk: Bounty Hunter-you use your rough appearance and big guns to talk your way through your problems. +5 to Speech and Small Guns.

NOTE: I'm writing this assuming you know what's going on in the corresponding chapters in Fallout: Equestria. I would recommend reading the original first to have a good sense of what is truly going on. Future chapters are planned to be standalone; I will tell you what chapters aline with what.

This chapter: Velvet Remedy.

---

Sam only realized his mistake a split second after he kicked in the door. The room was full of slavers; most likely more in the barn than there ever was in Paradise Falls. He knew he couldn't take them all at once, not with his arms and armor.

'I really wish I had my power armor,' He thought to himself. He quickly spun around and fired a few random rounds into the sky before slamming the door.

"We're under attack!" He shouted at the crowd, making some of the frilly dress mares scream. Most of the ponies, however, grabbed their weapons and readied them.

"Where and how many?" One of them asked, a unicorn an eyepatch over her left socket and leather armor on her barrel. Sam grunted.

"Two, unicorn and pegasus." He looked out again, only to be greeted by the sight of a slaver with a lantern pole on his back get capped by presumably Calamity, the blood splatter getting on his helmet. With his NVs, he could see Pip run into one of the wooden buildings form before the war after picking its lock with some unneeded dificulty. "I see the uni...I think that's the Stable Dweller."

"The who?" The slaver asked, "Some kind of new do-gooder?" Sam looked down at his PIP-Boy; the signal of DJ Pon3's broadcast didn't reach out here.

"Yeah." He raised his assault rifle. "I call her. She took down my crew near Ponyville." The slaver nodded.

"We hear shots and we're comin'," She answered. Sam nodded, checking the stage. It was empty. He pulled out a strange object from his satchel.

"Oh, and bitch?" The slaver did a double take.

"Excuse me?" He pulled the pin and threw it at her head, turning tail and sprinting up the catwalk. The impact gave the slaver a welt, and it rolled into the center of the barn. The salver rubbed her head as one of the stallions took a closer look at it, a tan cowboy hat on his head.

"Wot in tarnation?" He asked no one in particular. The next second it went off.

Sam had noticed that, in his travels, the husks of cars abandoned on the streets by their owners still had active power cell. However, they were all incredibly unstable from their advanced age. They went up REAL nice if provoked by a few stray bullets. It took him several weeks and a little bit of help but in the end he learned how to safely take out these batteries. After that, he, Donovan and Charon spent an entire month developing their own breed of DIY weapons, the most prominent being the 'Kiloton Grenade'. It essence, it was a frag or high explosive grenade duct taped to either a car's power cell or a fission battery. The combination didn't matter; what mattered was that it still went up in a big explosion.

And boy did it work this time.

The barn's occupants were all almost instantly vaporized in heat that topped at 500 million degrees Fahrenheit, the furniture and walls being blown apart. The stage melted before its molten globs flew through the air and into the building behind it. The begins sleeping inside the guest rooms on the balcony would be the lucky ones, as their remains would be able to be found in the smoldering wreckage in the form of burned and scarred skeletons. The roof flew apart in terrible fireballs, an ominous mushroom cloud forming above the wreckage. Sam smiled amid falling pieces of smoldering debris, knowing he had killed a lot of slavers with that thing. His smile vanished as a bullet almost hit him in the face from his position in the doorframe of the building Pip went into. He looked down, seeing a large band of slavers, maybe six or seven. He fired a loose burst, killing one, before retreating inside. He noticed before he fled that they were in a rough formation, but enough to deny Calamity of any safe vector for another strafing run. He and Pip were on their own.

Sam quickly dove into the room as the door closed. He executed a commando roll to get on sure footing, facing Littlepip as she began to aim a gun at his head. He held up his front hoof.

"Friendfriendfriend!" He shouted, holding up his front hooves, crouching as to not fall forward from overbalance. Pip relaxed, lowering her gun. Sam took a look around the room, noting the two dead ponies and-

"That's a lot of firepower," He noted, his eyes scanning shelves of ammo and weapons. Pip was mesmerized too, but snapped out of it as shouts came from outside.

"I don't care how many lives it costs!" An authorative feminine voice shouted outside, "I want his head on a pike!" Sam's head swiveled as he looked around the room for something to barricade the door as Pip locked it. He settled on a filing cabinet and a table covered in cards an gambling chits, most likely what the two dead ponies were doing before Pip showed up.

Sam grabbed both of them at the same time with his magic and pushed them in front of the door, while Pip did the same with a metal desk. As she took notice of the terminal that was sitting on it, Sam stepped in front of the armory and regarded it like it was his own armory underneath his house in Megaton. The gleam of the metal, the smell of the gun oil, the inert deadliness of the points of the stray rounds. It was beautiful.

Sam cracked his neck, taking a look at his side. Pip was looking at the sight with the same expression.

"Ready to turn yourself into a walking armory?" He asked. She looked up at him, a devious smile on her face.

"Let's do it."

---

Sam put the last 5.56 round in the magazine before tucking it into one of his chestplate's open slots. He slid a few more into the others before sliding the last one into his rifle, pulling the receiver and loading a round. He regarded the two battle saddles one last time before turning away. As much as he wanted to use them, he didn't have the space on his back, which was occupied by not only his original weapons, but the assault rifle and a minigun, which he had torn off one of the battle saddles.

He looked over to Littlepip, who was reading on the terminal. She was loaded with ammo, of which she had plenty...except for her emerging signature, Little Macintosh. Sam knew that he was having the same problem with his Deagle.

As he walked out of the armory cage, Pip looked like she was about to explode. As she left the terminal and began pacing angrily, Sam began reading the entries.

Entry 1:

Had a surprise inspection from the Ministry of Morale yesterday. We pretty well knew it was coming, and I'd been given instructions on what to do; but I couldn't believe how smoothly it went! We slip them a small percentage of the special product, and they give us clean marks? Even if they were dirty, I couldn't understand why they wouldn't bring the cage down on us and impound all of it for themselves. Seemed too good to be true. So I did a little digging, and a friend of a friend working over at Ironshod who claims to have an inside peek gave me this apple to chew on: according to him, the head mare of MoM herself actually loathes the new contraband laws. And since MoM enforces those laws, that means all sorts of tasty zebra treats are slipping into Equestria right under the Princesses' nose. I figure this means as long as she says golden delicious, we're golden delicious. And even if the Princess suspects her (and how dense would she have to be not to?), she really is the one pony the MoM can't bring up on sedition charges!

Entry 2:

Finally wiped the crap from this terminal. Three-hundred plus documents that I have absolutely no use for (and many of which it's probably best there not be a record of). All except that one damn file from forever ago with the weird-ass flag on it that prevents tampering. And trust me, I've tried.

Don't know why we even bother keeping record of where we send the goods, since they're all going to the same damn place anyway. I don't know what the hell Stern needs all these slaves for, but unless she's building an army, whatever it is has one hellish rate of attrition.

Boss is more worried about the attrition rate in transit. A third of these fuckers don't make the journey, and Stern ain't paying us none for corpses. I'm supposed to figure out a way to keep the damn goods alive at least until after caps exchange hooves. Maybe a cocktail of drugs will help. Found a false floor last week leading into a buried boxcar just full of the stuff!

Entry 3:

I've finally convinced the boss that we need to start a little side business in the foal market. The young ones are easier to corral, control and train. Sure, we have to play up the "investment" angle, since they can't do the work of a normal slave, but there are plenty of ponies out there who see the potential. Unfortunately, Stern ain't one of them. That bitch has no patience.

Turns out, a mixture of Buck and Dash, in small doses, does mighty well in keeping the more worthless slaves from keeling over before they make Filllydephia. What happens to them after Stern gets her hooves on them ain't none of my concern. Still got to talk to Whip Crack about going a bit easier on them though. No drug cocktail is going prevent a pony from being lashed to death. Might suggest swapping out which slaves are pulling the wagons a bit more often too.

Entry 4:

The cells in the old sheriff's station have been perfect for foal holding. The settlers of Appleloosa might have constructed a lot of this place with an eye to speed over lastingness but they sure knew how to make a holding pen. I'd even say that the cells in there are a close second in the list of stuff I'm glad they left behind when they all kicked the bucket, next to that apple pie recipe!

Turns out, gathering foals has made hitting isolated homesteads a much better risk. The parent folk have a tendency to get annoyingly shooty when we come to claim them, but they also take such great pains to keep their little ones out of the fight that even if we have to kill off all the adults, we still make a good profit.

Entry 5:

What a fucking cock-up! A whole shipment, two wagons worth, slaughtered. Best we can figure, they ran into a stray hellhound. Damned taint fucks everything up. Now I hear that Stern is sending a "special representative" to take a look-see at our operation. Sounds more to me like she's planning on taking over. I think she's in for a face-buck surprise. And this "special representative" best watch her tail.

Got a new herd of foals ready for breaking. Raked in the caps with the last batch. Another benefit of dealing in foals: you only have to kill one of them in front of the others to take the fight out of them.

Entry 6:

The last week has been beyond words. Stern was playing it close to her chest with that "special representative" business. I never had any idea! Let's just say I was shaking in my shodding when our new boss heard about some of the stuff I'd been saying back when we didn't know her. But I guess it's easy to be understanding when you're connected to the divine! Besides, we still have what's left of the old boss as a reminder that the new boss's hooves ain't soft.

The new acquisition is going to do wonders for keeping the slaves up. Good thing too, since the new boss don't cotton to the Buck and Dash trick. Fortunately, I was able to convince her that was Apple Core's idea. Poor Apple Core. Never saw it coming.

All hail the living Goddess!

"They were average slavers," Sam told her as he finished, "Apart of a bigger operation. But then turned into religious zealots...but by what?" He reread the last entry. "By who?" Pip stopped, growling.

"All I know is that I'm about to kill some evil motherfuckers!" She shouted. Sam held in a snort, moving to the barricaded door. The bucking had stopped several minutes ago.

"How?" He asked. "We're stuck in here, those bastards have every gun pointed to this door. The moment we step outside, we're dead." He tapped the filing cabinet. "All we can do is wait for any opportunity-" The door exploded, sending shrapnel and furniture flying through the air. Sam heard a piece of hot metal scrape against the back of his helmet as he flew, and felt another go straight through his right hindleg. He landed and flipped onto his back in front of Littlepip, who slammed into the armory's cage and knocked unconscious. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the filing cabinet. His brow furrowed right before the cabinet came crashing onto his head.

'So that's what the missiles were for.'

---

The cabinet barely made a sound as Sam slowly pushed it off of his body with his magic. He slowly got up, almost falling back onto the ground as he put pressure on his injured leg. He stuck a stimpak into it-of which he was running out of-and took in the situation around him.

Calamity was holding up Pip's left foreleg as it began to heal with the power of several healing potions, the limb apparently having been almost taken off by shrapnel. It would be lame until they could find treatment. She was trembling, but whether it be form pain, shock, anger, or a combination of all three he couldn't tell.

"Ya two er lucky those miss'l launchers are hard ta work fer an amateur," He said as the potions did their magic, "Otherwise ya wouldn't be here." Sam scoffed.

"Lucky us," He grumbled. He moved to pick up his scavenged minigun from beside him before seeing that it was damaged beyond repair by the metal desk slamming onto it. Several of the barrels were bent, which would cause it to spark and explode if it was fired. "What's the plan?" Pip had calmed down long enough to fire something out.

"Me and Wanderer will look for Velvet Remedy, Calamity you'll get to the sheriff's office and rally the foals. We'll meet up there when we have her." Sam sighed as he loaded his pulled on the slide of his Deagle, putting it back into its holster.

"Better than what I'd have come up with," He commented.

"What'd been yer's?" Calamity asked.

"Simple," Sam replied before they all went into the shadows of the night.

"Kill em all."

---

Pip quickly closed the door of the boxcar as Sam slipped inside. The light from the inside was blocked once again by the door, unnoticed by the bands of slavers hunting them outside.

Both of the former Vault/Stable dwellers turned to the only other occupant of the car, who was facing the opposite direction. Sam-who noticed that he was slowly starting to adapt to his new world-noticed the nice curves of her body. He suppressed a whistle that his merc persona would've allowed.

"It about time!" She exclaimed, still not looking at them, "I can't very well do any good sitting in h-" Her voice left her as she saw who had entered, not who she was expecting. Sam kept stoic, knowing that she would be travelling with them in a few hours' time. Not bad to have a good first impression.

"What are you doing here?" She asked breathlessly, moving her head to look over Sam. "And who's this?" Pip straightened herself out, trying to act heroic.

"I followed you out of the Stable," She told her, trying to make her voice a little deeper, "Came across the Equestrian Wastelands to find you. I'm here to rescue you!" She gave a champion's smile.

"She's not stalking you," Sam quickly added. Velvet didn't find the quip funny.

"Aren't you now?" She began pacing, almost skipping. "I tried so hard to keep anypony from following me. This isn't what I wanted at all!" She looked at Pip's weapons and wounds, and back to Sam's aura of death. "You're the ones out there shooting up everything?" Sam smirked under his helmet.

"And blowing it up, but I'm not picky," He commented, "Now let's get out of here, there're bands of slaver fucks out there looking for us." Pip's brow furrowed.

"We're here to rescue you," She reiterated, concerned that she was doing the wrong thing. Sam remembered when he first met Clover; He knew the feeling.

"Rescue? Littlepip-" Sam could hear Pip's breath hitch. "I'm not a prisoner. I'm here of my own volition." Sam's eye twitched.

"E-fucking-xscuse me?" He asked, not believing what he was hearing.

"You're working for slavers!?" Pip asked angrily.

"And you're cutting a bloody swath through them," Velvet reiterated. "How many ponies are dead tonight because of you, Littlepip?" Sam growled, gripping his Deagle in his holster with TK.

"Not enough," He grunted. Velvet turned her attention to him, a look of horror on her face as she realized he meant it.

"what about the people they support?" She asked, "This is a town, stranger. There are merchants and tavern owners and workponies here. Have you killed any of them? Are you sure?"

"If they're wearing metal as armor, shot at me, or were residing in the barn, then hell yes." Velvet backed up a step, as did Pip. She hadn't seen him this mad yet.

"These are living beings, you monster! People with feelings, lives-"

"That involve stripping other people of their feelings and lives, you dense bitch!" He shouted. Velvet's jaw dropped, s did Pip's. "I was a slave for two months of my life on wo separate occasions, and it was hell! I wasn't a living fucking being! I was property! DO YOU KNOW HOW THAT FEELS!?" He punched the wall of the boxcar, going straight through the steel and leaving a jagged hole. The bang echoed through the small space. He pulled his hoof back, the violent actions seemingly calming him. "We are here to free the slaves here, you included."

"I'm not a slave!" She retorted, "I came upon a band of ponies who had been set upon by a horrific beast. There was only one survivor, badly wounded, missing a leg. So of course I galloped to his leg. Did you know I always wanted to be a medical pony? I bound his wounds and carried him back to his camp. It was a slaver camp, and there were several ponies there who were in severe need of aid, particularly amongst the captives." She looked around the interior of the boxcar, eyes resting on the new window. Sam realized this was her room. "I've been with them since."

"But you're helping slavers!" Pip exclaimed. She turned away from the two, looking at the medical boxes on the wall, yellow and with three butterflies where the red cross usually was.

"I read in a book once, back when I was about your age, Littlepip, that when Fluttershy-the Mare of the Ministry of Peace herself-stepped onto a battlefield, she insisted that her healer ponies tend to everyone wounded on the battlefield. Everyone! Pony, zebra, to her it didn't matter." She turned back to them and looked Pip in the eyes. "How could I do any less?"

"First off, that's retarded," Sam said, stepping forward, "Helping the enemy like that has the potential to kill you, your friends or both, and threaten the security of your homeland if they break free of a POW camp healthy. And unless these zebras enslaved captured ponies, this is entirely different."

"Oh?" She asked, "How so?" A challenge. A challenge accepted.

"These slavers kill or capture innocent people wanting to live out a pathetic existence, selling anyone still breathing into slavery, a life as property. Even the foals, for fuck's sake!" He slowly stepped forward, making Velvet shrink a little. "The zebras and the war fought hundreds of years ago was started from desperation by both sides, which ended in both sides using whatever resources left to KILL. EVERYTHING. I have seen people out here..." He paused, remembering the ramshackle cities that climbed out of the ruins of the old world and the people who lived in them. "...That have survived and thrived by doing good, honest work. Slavery is a shortcut that leads to suffering and damnation! And we're both victims!" Velvet shook her head, starting to get desperate in proving her point.

"You don't think I know that? But else can I do? I'm just one pony. And I will not do nothing! Would you have me just trot away from suffering ponies because they have the misfortune of being captives of slavers?"

"You can help us rescue them," Pip offered.

"Rescue them?" She asked, "The three of us? Against all those slavers?" He grinned nervously at Sam. "Not that I don't doubt your resolve...or your firepower. But we would be horribly outnumbered..." Sam chuckled.

"You think that's gonna stop us? We've come this far, blown a hole in the wall already; All we got to do is walk out..." He realized her next point in the argument, and Velvet knew it, "...with all those slaves..." Pip perked up.

"We have a train!" Velvet perked up as well, looking hopeful for the first time since Sam and Pip had walked in.

"Oh! That might work!"

---

The sheriff's office had been turned into a fort, both was structural design form centuries ago and the slavers that used it as a holding pen for the foals. Windows were boarded up and reinforced with metal, with enough space for the barrel of a heavy machine gun to be poked through. The cages were at the back and protected by a wall, so a stray bullet wouldn't hurt the merchandise sitting inside.

There were a half dozen of them, all smelling of death, fear in their large eyes. Lashes, burns, and scars of all kinds were all over their small bodies, as fraction of the abuse that was put onto them by their masters. That fear partially left as they all Velvet, who smiled in return. Pip noted that she was most likely the bright light in their dark, miserable lives. She waited for a quip of some kind, most likely a morbid one directed at Velvet, but sighed when none came. Sam had left for reconnaissance of the town, as 'something didn't feel right'. She doubted him, but knew he was probably right. He had more experience doing this kind of stuff than her, Calamity, and Velvet combined.

As she was undoing the locks of the cages, Calamity's voice rang through the pounding rain outside.

"We got incoming!" There was a pause as he realized what he was looking at, followed by a loud crash. "Whoa...Lil'pip, we got trouble! Big trouble!"

The crash was Sam's body going straight through one of the old buildings, and slamming into one of the support beams of the balcony of the other. The building he went through collapsed, the lack of several components necessary for its structural integrity-as well as the kinetic force-finally doing what the end of the world couldn't. He groaned as he got up, cracking his neck while doing so. He looked to his right, and jumped back, firing a few rounds from his Colt while backing up. The rounds sparked on the armor of the pony on the right, who fired a burst from his dual magical energy weapons at him. A hastily prepared shield protected him from most of the rounds, but several slammed into his body. He fell in a heap, making Pip cry out from her position at the window. She looked at the ponies that had arrived, two heavily armed and armored ponies on the left and right of another winged unicorn, or as Sam told her what Watcher had told him, an 'Alicorn'.

"We will give you just one chance to come out," The alicorn shouted, "Do so. Or We will bring the whole building down on your ears!" The response was given by Calamity, who divebombed the pony that had shot Sam with an enthusiastic yee haw. The bullets went through his metal armor like it was butter, his blood splashing on the alicorn's hooves and onto Sam's helmet, quickly washing away. The alicorn laughed, the heartless sounds echoing across the area.

"Such impudence!" She shouted, her horn glowing a sickly green, not unlike Sam's. A bolt of lightning shot out of her horn, slamming into Calamity's side-

Sam breathed, his lungs feeling clogged with blood and mucus. He dared not cough, which would alert the alicorn standing over him of his continued survival. He saw her fire her lightning strike, and Calamity falling through the sky. Sam closed his eyes; His friends were about to die and he couldn't do a damn thing. He remembered the sticky situations he and his former companions had been in DC at one point or another, with one saving the lives of everyone. He wished he had them with him...someone, anyone...

His horn glowed a pale blue, and he felt something that he shouldn't. He felt his boots standing on the roof of the building he was laying next to, his eyes looking through the scope of his hunting rifle as the other earth pony hosed the sheriff's office with his dual miniguns, the power in his limbs as his power armor enclosed him...

Everything happened so quick. The head of the pony close to killing the foals exploded as a .308 went through it, a spray of 5.56 slammed into the sides of the alicorn, and minigun fire from behind was stopped-barely in time-by a murk green shield. The shield quickly encased her entire body as another .308 was went down range, saving her head from being turned into an exploding watermelon. Sam launched himself upwards as he saw a swarm of mines fly past him. He fired the explosive bolt spell that was used in Stable 22 as the mines detonated, almost destroying the shield that was around her. A simple mental command told them to cease fire, each individual shot draining his stamina.

The alicorn smiled a laughed manically as Sam was encased by a form-fitting magical blue shield, as if it was a second skin. He stood in front of the sheriff's office, like a knight in shining armor. Literally.

"That was...impressive," She said, "Very impressive. I would expect nothing less...brother!" She used the shock from the revelation to fire another bolt of lightning. The bolt deflected off of his chest, sending him back a little, his hooves sliding across the mud. They resumed fire automatically

"Pip!" He shouted as he took another bolt, this one collapsing the shield on his chest, "Whatever you're plannin' to do, do it quick!" One more bolt slammed into him, sending him flying backwards. He landed in the doorframe, and bounced on the hard rotting wood floors until slamming into the bars. The constructs vanished as his concentration was broken, Pip seeing the outline of the minigunner's helmet one vast time before they all vanished into blue.

Sam groaned, pulling off his helmet. He placed a hoof on his torso and pulled it back, seeing blood. Lots of blood. He looked beside him, and saw Velvet Remedy bleeding out. He pulled out a stimpak-the last one, he noted- and jabbed it into her neck. She jolted as the painkillers and healing fluids entered her bloodstream, sealing the wound. Some of the healing agents of the stimpak's serum quickly found the 5mm bullets still in her belly and began dissolving it as the wounds vanished.

"...ya from castin' a shadow," He heard Calamity say on the roof above him, followed by a resounding crash. It woke Velvet up, who looked around. She noticed her lack of pain in her stomach, and placed a hoof to it. She felt nothing, only dried blood. She looked around, trying to find the cause. Her eyes stopped at Sam, with his sad smile and empty syringe in his hoof. He could see the tears building up in her large eyes as his vision darkened.

He and Pip collapsed at the same time.

---

Footnote: Level up

New perk added: Tongue Lasher-You know what hurts more than a nuclear bomb? Words. +15 Speech, and unique dialogue options to people of Very Bad-Neutral Karma levels.

Dull thumps echoed in Sam's head. His skin crawled with itchiness, and the part of his forearm covered by his PIP-Boy ached. He was hot, and it wasn't helped by the small winds seemingly full of atomic power.

A sun baked city skyline filled his vision, the twisted and destroyed spires reaching to the sky. His mind struggled to find concentration it didn't have; He remembered this sight-

His eyes opened, and an explosion sent him flying through the air. Around him, several power-clad soldiers flew, the implosion mine magnifying the small amount explosives to staggering levels. The Patton that was five feet away was flipped onto its side, where a grey-clad soldier through a pulse grenade inside an open hatch. The electronics were fired, and the fusion powered engine made unstable. The back went up in a rad-filled explosion, taking out the man that had destroyed it.

"Reich's inbound!" Someone shouted over the ringing of Sam's ears, "Two hundred plus foot mobiles!"

"Form a line!" A rough voice replied, "The buck stops here!"

Sam groaned as he got up, grabbing the plasma rifle he dropped. He checked the cartridge to make sure it wasn't cracked, and then the holographic sights to see if they weren't damaged. Satisfied, he looked back up at the battle around him.

Vertibirds of many variants were in the air, dogfighting with others painted a bright red color. East Coast Brotherhood forces-most wearing T-45d, but a minority wore T-51b-were taking cover behind anything they could find. Already detonated cars, concrete slabs, destroyed BOS tanks, and the bodies of their fallen comrades. Beside them were their brothers from the Midwestern Brotherhood, the horned helmets reminiscent of the Enclave a stark contrast from the rounded tops of the East Coast Brotherhood. And their target...Columbus. The last bastion of the Fourth Reich.

Sam was shaken out of his trance as he heard shrill battle yells. He looked forward and, after magnifying his visor, saw a wave of grey-coated men charging them about a quarter of a mile away with bayoneted weapons. Reichmen.

He climbed onto a fire truck to project his voice. He noticed at on top was a small flag pole, one that a man would be able to carry. And on the top was a battered American flag. Sam's emotions fluctuated. Despite what those that used this flag did to him, he still had a love for the Old United States, if anything its vision. Of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Sam grabbed the pole and drove it into the rusted metal of the firetruck, going through the metal and sticking it there.

"This is it, my brothers and sisters!" He shouted. His voice, however young, still carried much power. He was the youngest Sentinel in Brotherhood history, and undoubtedly its most capable warrior on the East side of the Mississippi. "These tyrants fall today! Our children will know peace tomorrow!" He faced the men that were gathered behind him, his voice louder than the hundreds of soldiers on the other side of the freeway they were fighting on. All around them, the Fourth Reich was making its last charge. He raised his plasma rifle in one hand.

"Courage today, victory tomorrow!" Despite everyone in the crowd having seen the old Pre-War poster many times before, they still felt motivated. They roared in enthusiasm and adrenaline. They knew that this would be the end of this war, a war that the Midwest had started decades ago. Many of the Midwestern Knights and Paladins had been raised in this war. Only when the East Coast made contact and agreed to help them, right after their war with the Enclave ended, had the tide been turned.

Twenty four years of constant post-apocalyptic warfare ended this day.

The Knights and Paladins of the Brotherhood opened fire on the suicide wave of Reichmen, the mixed hail of bullets, lasers, and the occasional plasma blob cutting down the single-minded soldiers. Another Patton rolled up and fired a shell, red misty blood mixing with the concrete rubble and dirt form the explosion. As the crowd began thinning, Sam jumped down from the firetruck. He switched his plasma rifle to fully automatic and hosed the few remaining left. As the last one began molecularly breaking down into a complex radioactive goo, Sam lowered his weapon. A hushed silence fell over the battlefield, the six lane highway a tomb.

Sam walked forward, looking up to the sun. It was the middle of July, and the sun was incredibly hot. He could feel the heat on his armor's plates, through the bodysuit he was wearing that allowed him to function with the armor on. He turned back to the line of Brotherhood, arms cradling his plasma rifle.

"Nice day for a walk!" He shouted, "Who wants to join me?" The offer was met by resounding shouts. The firetruck was toppled onto its side and pushed out of the way for the Patton, though an East Coast Knight had elected to become the pseudo flag bearer. Sam put his hand on the side of his helmet, turning on his comlink.

"Command, this is Sentinel Ross. Reich forces on outskirts of Columbus are destroyed South way is clear. Army Blue is entering the Hornet's Nest." More shouts and cheers of joy followed the announcement. Sam smiled, happy that this war was almost over.

Ever since he had left Vault 101, this life had been a constant state of fighting. From raiders and Talon Company until he lost his father, then the Enclave (along with raiders and Talon Company) until they were almost completely destroyed, and finally the forces of the Fourth Reich. The East Coast had pushed the Reich from Philadelphia all the way to Columbus in the span of three months. While Sam knew what he was doing was right, and he was proud of the evil he had vanquished in this short seven months out of the Vault, he was growing tired of it. This constant killing was proving hard on his psyche. He wanted to rest for a while. He wanted to sleep until noon and not get stabbed in the shoulder.

He wanted to grieve.

The thumps of the propellers of a Vertibird snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw a blue-grayish painted Brotherhood Vertibird hovering over their position, kicking up dust and sending pebbles into the armor of the weary soldiers underneath it. Instead of cursing the aircraft, the soldiers waved at it. They recognized the craft as the Brotherhood command center.

"How's the weather down there, Sentinel?" A feminine voice asked him. Sam smirked and put a hand to his comlink.

"Hot and dusty," He answered, "How's the situation looking?"

"Red and Orange are on their way to the center, same time stamp as you," She answered, "Shock troops are in the city, we're getting first hand accounts."

"We're almost there!" He exclaimed, their target barely a minutes walk away now, "Won't you keep us company?" The voice laughed.

"Negative Samuel," She replied, "Wish us luck." The propellers of the Vertibird tilted, going from hover to cruise. It zoomed towards the city faster than an old Osprey, making it to the destroyed skyline in seconds.

Sam was about to take his eyes off of the Vertibird when a missile flew out of the streets of Columbus and slammed into one of its engines. The aircraft barrelrolled and collided headlong into one of the broken skyscrapers.

Sam stopped, and so did the army ten yards behind him.

"Sarah!"

---

"No! Get out of my head!"

"Not when I'm learning, you child!"

"...Impressive. None of these weak, mortal ponies have ever been able to kick me out of their memories like this."

"What do you want from me?"

"In a word... complete control."

"That was two-"

"SILENCE!"

"You have the potential to be powerful, more so than even Celestia herself. I could sense it through the inter-dimensional borders from yours and this. I want this power, and I will either control it or take from you."

"You brought me here..."

"Kiss my ass, you telepathic bitch!"

"I have been giving you your power, I can take it back!"

"Not while I'm still an option in whatever scheme you're planning!"

"Touché...But I will break you. Either I will break you, or you will become a willing servant. I will give you the power to do anything you desired! You can bring this...Sarah, back to life if you bow!"

"..."

"What are you doing?!"

"When I find you..."

"You're forcing me from your mind! How?!"

"I will defeat you..."

"You are nothing but a pawn!"

"I will humiliate you...

"My pawn!"

"And I will BREAK YOU."

This chapter: Derailed

---

Sam's vision went to black. He tried to shout, to move, but he couldn't, as if he wasn't in control of his body. Wait...he couldn't even feel his body. He had had first hand experience at mind control during his forceful experiments at the hands of the aliens of Zeta, and he was still conscious, the only thing missing from his mind's overlordship over his body being his control of his limbs. Was this a new form of mind control made by that damned voice?

Sam heard a faint click inside his head. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself looking at the roof of the passenger car of the train he had come to Appleloosa with. He drew and long breath, breathing out through his nose. He looked to his left, and saw Pip reading a magazine titled 'Equestrian Army Today'. Sam could also see Calamity pacing, stopping every few intervals to look out the window.

Sam tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his chest stopped him. He winced loudly, grabbing the attention of Pip and Calamity.

"Wanderer!" Littlepip exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and hugging him. Her hug was cut short by a loud gasp of pain from Sam.

"Simmer down, Pip!" Calamity scolded, "He's got ah bruised rib, an' some nasty lookin' lacerations!" Sam chuckled.

"Those are some big words," He commented, looking down beside the long cushioned couch. He found what he was looking for, his satchel. He pulled out a syringe of Med-X with his TK, jabbing it into his neck. He felt the specialized morphine coarse through his veins, dulling the pain without most of the usual drowsiness. He tired to get up again, feeling almost no pain. He clambered to his hooves, noticing he still had the same fatigues as the night before. He looked out the window-it was morning.

"How long have I been-"

"About six hours," Pip replied, "And it wasn't easy getting you in here." Sam gave her a nod of appreciation.

"Thank you," He replied. Pip smiled back, blushing a little bit. Sam's ear flicked, and he looked out the window again.

"What's wrong?" She asked. Sam grunted.

"Something doesn't feel right..." He said. Calamity looked over to him.

"Like somethin's followin' us?" He asked. Sam nodded.

"Unfortunately." Sam looked back to his satchel, and saw his long arms lying beside it. He began putting them back on his body, already knowing by the weight on his hips that his pistols were still there. "Calamity, you got any idea what's up there?"

"Ah got no sure idea," He answered, readying his battle saddle, "Ah reckon a griffin merc, Enclave's got no reason ta follow ah train full of escaped slaves."

"You sure?" He asked. He didn't get an answer back. "I'll keep the caboose in check. Pip, get ready in here. Calamity-"

"Ah'll stretch mah wings," He said before Sam could give him the order. Something popped into his mind, and he began digging through his satchel. He pulled out a small ear piece.

"Here, take this," He told him, floating towards his waiting hoof, "Wireless radio. Attached to my PIP-Boy and my radio." He gave one to Pip too, both of them sticking the device in their respective ears.

"Thank ya kindly," Calamity said with a nod before walking out. Sam began digging through his satchel again, this time pulling out his go-to clothes. He quickly began stripping out of his current wear, all of the articles flying into the satchel's forced open mouth. Pip watched the whole time, mesmerized at the precision of every movement. Totally not admiring the defined muscles made more visible by the skin-tight bodysuit he had yet to take off.

Pip's brow furrowed and looked away.

By the time she looked back, he was dressed the same way he was when she found him, from his bandanna to the strange pistol on his chest. He kept the black chest piece of his commando outfit on, however. He straightened out his hat and looked back at her.

"You alright, Pip?" He asked. She blinked rapidly, now realizing she had been staring. She nodded rapidly with a large fake smile on her muzzle.

"A-all good here!" She reassured. Sam shook his head, a little movement catching his eye. To the left was a tangled mess of half a dozen foals, all at varying degrees of sleep. Velvet sat on the ground in the middle of the group, a thick book of presumably bedtime stories levitating in front of her face.

"...the eldest used her unicorn powers to raise the sun at dawn," She read, "The younger brought out the moon to begin the night." One of the colts-a unicorn with a blue coat and grey hair-caught Sam's bulk standing behind her, and gasped. Velvet turned around, her eyes widening as she saw who it was. Sam nodded to her

"You!" She softly exclaimed, as to not wake the sleeping children, "I have been needing to thank you." She rubbed the apart of her stomach where the bullets had entered. "Without your quick sacrifice, I would've died."

"You fixed me up, didn't you?" Sam asked. Velvet nodded, making him smile. "Then we're even." Velvet smiled too. "And I want to apologize for how I acted when we pulled you out-"

"No need!" She cut him off, "I wasn't considerate of your past-"

"Which you knew nothing about," He muttered.

"-And...well, you were right. Those were slaves I was helping, fixing them before they would be broken again by those...monsters." Sam smiled sadly.

"You were doing God's work, helping those unfortunate few. Who knows? Maybe after you'd fix them up, they'd go free somehow." The conversation died off between the two, the voices giving way to the rattles of the train. The colt who first caught sigh of Sam couldn't contain his excitement any longer.

"You're him!" He almost shouted, "The Lone Wanderer!" Sam chuckled at the colt's enthusiasm.

"Word spreads fast," He commented, kneeling to his eye level, "Got a name, kid?" The colt grabbed his hoof and shook it quickly.

"I'm Smith, sir!" He answered, Sam noticing a Bostonian accent in his voice, "And this here's my brother, Wesson!" Another unicorn colt color swapped with Smith rose his head from the couch he was resting on, nodded, and went back to sleep. Sam's mind drew a blank at the names of the brothers, but kept it hidden. He noticed that, after dropping the colt's hoof, that almost all of the foals' attention (minus Wesson) was on him, drawn to his legend, to the Lone Wanderer.

Every day Sam wished that his damned alter ego had never existed.

"Mr. Wandewew?" A small voice asked him. He looked down and saw a yellow earth pony filly with a light blue mane, her purple eyes hidden behind the mane.

"Yes, little one?" He asked in the softest voice possible. She reminded him of Biwwy.

"Whewe you came fwom, d-d-did you have muwsic?" Sam smiled, remembering those old tunes that kept him going.

"The best."

"Can you sing?" Sam looked down to his PIP-Boy, scrolling through his recordings until following on an instrumental of a version of one of the songs from DC. He remembered the day vividly, slogging through the radioactive, half collapsed basement of GNR's main building to find some forgotten holotapes as a favor to Three Dog.

He pressed the paly button, and was met with static. He took a couple of steps back, everyone in the car-including Pip-now watching. His horn began to glow his usual green, and three blobs of magic formed beside him. As he began opening his mouth, so did the silhouettes.

watch?v=R16VP2ngL6M

"I'm going way back, way back!
Way back home, way back home
Where...the...

"Roads are the dustiest
The winds are the gustiest
The gates are the rustiest
The pies are the crustiest
The songs (the songs the lustiest)
The friends (the friends the trustiest)
Way back home

The trees are the sappiest
The days are the nappiest
The dogs are the yappiest
The kids are the scrappiest
The jokes (the jokes the snappiest)
The folks (the folks the happiest)
Way back home

Don't know why I left the homestead
I really must confess (I really must confess)
I'm just a weary exile
Singing my song of loneliness

The grass is the springiest
The bees are the stingiest
The birds are the wingiest
The bells are the ringiest
The hearts (the hearts the singiest)
The arms (the arms the clingiest)
Way back home

Don't know why I left the homestead
I really must confess
I'm just a weary exile
Singing my song of loneliness

The food is the spreadiest
The wine is the headiest
The pals are the readiest
The gals are the steadiest
The love the liveliest
The life the loveliest
Way back
Way back..."

The music began to die out, as did the silhouettes, but Sam kept singing, his eyes misty.

"I'm just a weary exile," He sang, "Singing my song of loneliness." The moment was cut off by the rumble of minigun fire. This was followed by the death warbles of the pulling team, then the other pulling team opening fire. Sam's eyes quickly cleared up, pulling out his Deagle and slapping a magazine in. One of the train ponies burst through, a lever action shotgun in his magical aura. Velvet jumped back, shielding the foals with her body.

"Slaver ambush!" He shouted, "Protect the children!" As he warned the armed ponies, a slaver pony broken into the passenger car, diving through one of the windows behind the train pony. The earth pony's muscular body was covered by piece of scrap metal and sharpened spikes held together with buckles and duct tape. On back hooves were spiked horseshoes, dirtied already by the blood of a train pony. Before the slaver could rear up and kill, Sam fired. The round entered the stallion's skull and blew it apart, an eyeball landing on the brim of Sam's hat. He shook it off with a jerk of his head.

"Pip!" He shouted, her-and everyone else's-hearing muffled by the loud bang in close quarters, "Take this!" He took off his assault rifle and tossed it to her, four magazines taped to the stock. She shook her head, getting into the right mindset. Sam put a hoof to his ear, pulling out his hunting rifle and propping it on the destroyed window.

"Calamity, how's it looking up there?" He asked. He looked to his compass, and saw too many red markers and not enough green, which was quickly blinking off.

/It's an ambush!/ He shouted in reply, the sound bleeding out to the open so everyone could hear, /Got three bogies on mah tail!/ Sam found the rust-colored pegasus bobbing and weaving through the fire of three flying figures. Upon closer inspection in his scope, he could see that it was two apparent griffons and another pegasus.

"Firing," Sam told him, activating his VATS. The .308 round ripped off the right wing of the pegasus at the base as Calamity flew upwards at a steep climb, sending him crying down to the ground. Calamity stalled and flipped, putting six rounds into the chest of one of the griffons. He dodged the fire from the last one's brush gun and flew back towards the train, flying so close to the roof of the passenger car that the wind and kinetic waves shook dust out of the ceiling.

/Thanks, Wand'r!/ Calamity thanked before cutting the link. Sam nodded, slinging his rifle over his shoulders. He looked back and saw Pip offering Velvet a pistol he hadn't seen before, seemingly made out of junk.

"Take this," She told her, "Guard the foals with your life. I'm going to help up ahead."

"Pip!" Sam warned her, watching the door with his Deagle and shotgun, "Time to go!"

"I...I couldn't," Velvet let out, staring at the pistol like it was a bomb. Sam growled.

"If you don't," He told her, "No one in this car will get off alive!" She gulped, again running out of options for her point of argument against Pip and Sam.

"It's easy," Pip said "Float it up, pointing this end at the bad guy. To shoot, pull this little lever back; that's the trigger."

"I'm not a killer!" Velvet exclaimed, tears in her eyes, "I... I don't think I can!" Before anyone could rebuttal, three slavers dropped down to the passenger car at the different ends, one in front of Sam and the other to by the foals.

In quick secession, Sam filled the pony in front of him with two shells of buckshot and one of the slavers at the other end with a .50. Before he could get the other one, his Deagle jammed. Cursing, he tossed it to the ground and leaped, using his wings to corkscrew around the two mares and the foals. He absorbed the slaver mare's pistol shots with his chest, and punched her in the face with the spiked knuckles on the handle. He flipped around her, grabbed her throat, and quickly and roughly slit it open. The warm blood sprayed, some of the droplets getting on the coats of the traumatized foals. Sam grunted, angry for exposing them to a death like this, but mentally shrugged it off. It was a matter of time anyway.

Sam let the body fall, still twitching as it landed on the carpet. His fur and duster was stained by the blood of the slavers, and his vest had two noticeable holes in it over his heart, centimeters away from his 10mm pistol. He tucked his knife into his duster, giving Velvet a hard glare.

"Learn to," He told her with a sharp edge to his voice.

His words were harsh, brutal, politically incorrect, maybe even impossible.

But so was the Wasteland.

---

A griffon, armed with a slug-throwing shotgun, fell out of the sky as his neck was sliced and cauterized by a swing from the shocksword. Sam leveled his M1911 at the suffering man's head and fired, ending his pitiful existence. He turned around and ducked his head as a burst of AR fire went by it, and solved the problem with a shot from the Deagle. The large round went through the unicorn who fired and sword-wielding earth pony behind her, felling both with one shot. Both dropped as Sam fired an explosive bolt out of his horn at a pegasus with a heavy rifle battle saddle, going through his wing before the bolt blew him apart in a bloody mess. The pegasus got a shot off however, shooting through his wing. Sam growled at the new, intense pain, quickly chugging a health potion that Pip had gave him before looking up and down the train.

The train, without the pull team, had slowed to the speed of a brisk jog, allowing the less athletic slavers to hop on. Sam was standing on top of a boxcar two cars away form the slave-filled caboose, with the roofs of the boxcars beside his covered in the corpses of dead slavers. By now, he knew that the crowd of slavers had to have thinned-he had killed at least fifteen at this position alone.

Sam peeked over the edges of his car, trying to see if anymore were coming from the ground. To his surprise, he instead saw three slavers four cars towards the engine walking on air. As the trio was pelted by AR fire, he fired two wild shots at them before leaping to the next car. One shot blew off the head of the one who was already riddled, while the other missed entirely. He cursed as he reloaded, realizing this was his last magazine.

Sam leaped across the boxcars, using his wings to glide over the ones he had covered with dead ponies. As he cleared the corpse-covered car, a slaver pony in heavy metal armor clambered onto the roof of the one he was landing on. Sam froze when he realized that, in his infinite wisdom, the slaver had brought a missile launcher.

Sam rolled as he landed, barely dodging a missile that was blinded fired at him. Thinking on his feet, Sam grabbed the slaver and hauled him upwards into the sky. He gripped the missile before it could zoom out of range and, in sick creativity on his part, shoved it down the gullet of the slaver. He left the slaver hanging, making sure that the sick pony could FEEL the missile's fuel run out, and its fuse tick.

He only let go as the slaver was blown apart from the inside, but by then he was already on the next car. And from this position he could see Pip staring at death. She was surrounded, a slaver with a SMG in front of her and one with a whip behind her, with her AR gone. Sam could see her life flashing in her eyes from his spot two cars away. He grunted, spreading his wings and jumping. He glided over the train through the pain.

He pulled his Deagle out and fired two shots at the SMG slaver, at the same time Calamity fired the same amount. The slaver was torn apart as the pegasus swooped low over the boxcar and banked sharply, his hooves scraping against the rocks of the cliff close to the tracks. The griffon that had been in pursuit came barreling after him, Pip ducking to avoid his body. The last slaver wasn't fast enough, and her head was sliced clean off of her shoulders.

As the griffon began the incline to follow Calamity, Sam landed on his shoulders and sent them both into the cliff. Rock sprayed as they impacted, falling a short ten feet. Sam girt his teeth as his back flared, but quickly rolled to his feet and got ready for an attack. But no attack would come, he realized, as he had cracked the skull of the griffon on impact. He slowly walked over to his unconscious body and stomped on his head, spraying his brains everywhere. He took the wing blades-a harness that was clipped to the wings-and flew to catch up with the train, his wing protesting with every flap.

As he flew over the train, he saw the caboose under siege by several slavers. Two of the salves had gotten hold of firearms and were shooting randomly out of the door while about half a dozen slavers were in magical cover in front of them. He looked back to his Deagle, knowing he only had five bullets left.

He would make them count.

---

Three bullets, six dead slavers and a runaway caboose later, Sam and Calamity were galloping to the caboose with the extra train pony that was supposed to be their backup in tow. They crashed through the door to the passenger car, finding several dead slavers, including one suspended from the ceiling by magic. Sam whistled, noting the amount of needles in the hovering slaver.

"Everypony's in the caboose and Ah've kicked it off!" Calamity reported, "The slavers won't be gettin' t' them from here!" Sam nodded, tapping the brim of his hat with the barrel of his Deagle.

"Now we hold the line," He said. No sooner had he said that the windows blew apart, the glass shards being followed by two slaver ponies, one with a sledgehammer and the other with a serrated knife. Both were ready for the close quarters combat to come.

The sledgehammer pony instantly lunged at Pip, while the knife pony went for Velvet. The unicorn with the sledgehammer hefted his weapon with ease in his TK and slammed it into Pip's ribcage, the snaps heard through the entire car. She whinnied pathetically in pain as he slammed the hammer into her back. Velvet fared no better, the knife of the earth pony slaver finding its blade in the shoulder of the singer. Blood spurt out of the wound, and Velvet cried out.

Sam needed only one round, the bullet going through the brain of the sledgehammer-wielding muscle head and through the cheeks of the knife pony, blowing them apart. She only had a moment to register the excruciating pain before Calamity's twin shots tore her head into pieces. Sam's brow furrowed as he looked at his companions' injuries, blowing the smoke rising out of the barrel. He twirled it in the air and shoved it into its holster.

"Well," The train pony said, "Tha' was anticlimati-" The door behind him burst open, revealing a white unicorn with a magical energy weapon battle saddle. He fired immediately, turning the train pony to ash. He fired another blast at Calamity, but was blocked by a shield made by Sam. He pulled out his M1911 and fired three times, the bullets going into his left foreleg and chest. He went down heavily.

"Ya jinxed it, partner," Calamity told the piles of ashes.

No reply was given.

---

Sam checked the front of the train engine, noting the sled dog-like harness which was connected to the front, but was tucked underneath the wheels. He knew he was partially responsible for their deaths, but he shook it off. He had done it before, and would do it again. With or without his meaning.

He gave a few wing beats, the concerning increase in speed of the train making the trip back turn into seconds. He walked through the door, seeing Velvet mending the ribs of Littlepip. Again, he had entered at almost the same time as Calamity.

"A-yep," He said, responding to whatever the mares were talking, "Looks like that was the last of them."

"The train's going pretty fast," Sam observed, "Unfortunately..."

"Unfortunately what?" Velvet asked. "How does this train slow down?"

"We use the brakes," Calamity answered.

"And where are they?"

"In the caboose." Sam sighed, putting his face into his hoof.

"Which is what we kicked off the train," He finished. Calamity chuckled lightly, a large nervous smile on his face.

"Y'know, that would explain the look the train pony was givin' me." Sam chuckled too.

"Luckily for us, there's an easy solution to this problem."

"What might that be, Mr. Wanderer?" Velvet asked. Sam smirked.

"Cover your head." Without giving anyone time to do as he asked, he aimed his horn at the ceiling and fired an explosive bolt. The wooden roof blew apart, the loose pieces flying off. The howling of the wind rushing against the new opening was loud.

"Calamity, fly Velvet out of here!" He shouted, "I'll get Pip!" Calamity looked from the new opening to the Wanderer.

"Ah like yer thinking, partner!" He replied. He and Velvet walked out to the nearest flat car, and with a simple extension of the wings, they were off.

Sam locked eyes with Pip.

"Now our turn..." He noticed Pip's eyes and their shrinking pupils. He turned around and his heart stopped. The energy weapon-wielding unicorn was leaning on the doorframe, his one working weapon aimed right at Pip.

As the bolt flew, Sam shot out his left wing and jumped in front, too late and too tired to conjure a shield. The bolt of energy burned a hole straight through his wing, and Pip saw through his wing as the unicorn's head exploded from the last Deagle round. Sam sighed, dropping the spent hand cannon. His body followed.

"Wanderer!" She exclaimed, feeling the train shift and lean. Sam's horn glowed, and almost all of his remaining magical endurance was spent righting the train.

"Calamity," Sam said into his radio, "Energy weapon to wing, can't get Pip out." He hissed through grit teeth, and Pip looked down to his wing. Blood was seeping out of the cauterized flesh, and some of his blue feathers were falling off. Sinew and blood soaked the ruined carpet.

/What was that?/ Calamity asked, /Ya hurt?/

"Affirmative." He slowly got up and limped to the window, his wing dragging on the ground. The next turn was fast approaching, and he knew he or Pip didn't have enough energy to save it. "I'll throw Pip up, catch her."

"What? No!" Pip protested, "I'm not leaving you!" She hugged his neck. "Who's gonna lead me?"

"Pip, you're going to change this land," Sam replied, "You're legend is just beginning to start. Me? I'm washed up, I've done my duty to my people." Pip got her head out of his neck, the fur slightly darker.

"You're just as important as I am, Wanderer." Sam felt the train begin to lean, and smiled sadly. He wrapped Pip's body in his aura.

"It's Sam." He threw her up before she could rebuttal. The train lurched off of the tracks, and Sam felt himself rise off of the ground. The air whistled against his ears as he rose out of the passenger car. His smaller mass went slower falling from the sky, so the wreckage of the train hit the gorund before him.

He closed his eyes as the cloud of dust enveloped him.

---

Footnote: Level Up

New Perk: Collateral-Killing two birds with one stone with a gun. 25% chance for a bullet to hit something else if a critical hit is achieved.

---

Considering putting this on fimfic, but I'm hesitant due to...past experiences. If you think I should, don't hesitate to let me know. Any and all opinions, ideas, or anything are welcome. PM or review. Thanks are sticking around so far.

"Sir?"

Sam cringed as the voice spoke. It seemed to emanate right in front of his eardrums.

"Master Samuel?"

There it was again, more clear. It had an artificial ring to it, like a robot. He felt a cold, metal appendage poke his head. His eyes flickered as his mind struggled to figure out who it was.

"Master Samuel, shall I grab Doc Church?!"

It was Wadsworth! But that meant...

His eyes shot open, his mind clear and body full of adrenaline. His eyes were met by a single glowing orange photoreceptor. Sam gasped, shock at both the sudden sight and the fact that it was there in the first place.

"Wadsworth!" He exclaimed. His body caught up with his mind, and he nearly screamed. "Stimpak, now!" The butler immediately pulled out a syringe from his internal storage and injected it into his neck. Sam sighed as the pain he felt vanished went away. It seemed that his wing was healing and reacting well with the stim...pak...

Where were his wings?

He sat up and patted his back with his forelegs. He felt nothing over than the rough fabric of his duster on his fingers. His eyes widened, and he looked back to his forehooves. But instead of forehooves, he saw his hands. He took a look at his surroundings. He was in his Megaton home. He was back in the Capital.

But where had he gone? He wracked his brain, knowing he had been somewhere strange for the past few days. A place where he was a pony, where he was technically killed by some flying person, and a small unicorn he-

The Equestrian Wasteland. He was dead. He was SUPPOSED to be dead! Yet here he was, lying on the dirty metal floor of his house, his Mr. Handy butler hovering beside him alarmed, and...alive, surviving impossible odds once more.

He hated his perfect luck.

He shook his head. He couldn't dwell on the past when he had no idea what the present was.

"What happened?" Sam asked, slowly getting to his feet. It felt weird standing on two legs naturally again, but the feeling quickly went away. He felt the rest of his body, and found that everything he had everything from before. Before he had jumped goddman dimensions...

"I do not know for certain, sir," Wadsworth answered, "You appeared form this strange green...thing that appeared near the ceiling."

"A portal?" Wadsworth's central photoreceptor looked down, as if the robot was pondering.

"That is what it appeared to be sir." Wadsworth hovered to the central table and picked up a piece of paper. A glance at the small Pre-War table led Sam's eyes to the absolute mess that he had created from falling back into his home. Papers, helmets, weapons, and knick-knacks he had collected from his travels that he had put across his home had been knocked to the ground. The helmets of the Enclave's Sigma Squad-collected at the Blitz of Adam's-were knocked down, but luckily his bobblehead collection had stayed.

"But according to Elder Maxson, you have been dead for three days!" He held in his claw the local Wasteland newspaper, in essence the script of Three Dog's main new monologue printed and sent out to the Wastes as 'Galaxy News Paper'.

Sam still couldn't get over it.

He snatched the paper from Wadsworth and looked at the headline. 'Wanderer KIA'. The picture was of him, a lucky moment captured by a teen with a camera who was huddling in a ditch. It was him holding the American flag on top of that firetruck outside of Columbus, the end of the March to the Reich. He read the article.

'August 13, 2283:

Today is to be marked as one of the worst PR moments in human history. Samuel Patrick Ross, the Lone Wanderer, the Crazy Kid From Vault 101, the Great Emancipator, Fallen Steel, THE Sentinel, New Sarah, the Second Coming of Jesus H. Christ, has been killed in the line of duty.

In a Brotherhood black op gone wrong, an entire hill outside of Raven Rock went up in a giant explosion in the dead of night on August 11. High Elder Arthur Maxson was pulled out of the rubble, completely unscathed. When he came to and was asked what was what, he told his men that Sammy and his trusty dog had been trapped by a mad Enclave scientist inside some kind of tube that he had called a 'trans-dimensional portal'. The pup and his master were sent off to God knows where in a flash of blue, and Maxson said that the moment they went poof, everything went boom.

This kid has just made the worst timed ending in Wasteland history. The day after his death came out and was leaked to the undesirables by word of Brotherhood patrols' mouths, remnants of Talon Company and other Raider gangs stepped up activity in the downtown DC area, along with the rolling radioactive, ruin-covered hills around it. An increasing number of coat-wearing vigilantes have been reported, and about half of the numbers have turned up dead.

And before you get your hopes up, Head Scribe Rothchild has said that there is no way he could've survived an inter-dimensional journey across the atoms. His molecular structure would've been torn apart about fifty times before being spit out, a process he would've be able to survive. And even if he did, what kind of environment would be thrown into? Would he be able to breathe the air? Would he appear in some monster's stomach? These are odds this guy's immense amount of luck wouldn't be able to overcome.

With the death of Sam goes his hopes and dreams. He's confided in me, and many others, about his love of America. Not the jack-booted thugs that killed his dad, not the Enclave, no, the kind WAY before any of the events that tore the world a new one. A land of opportunity. A country of displaced millionaires. The guardians of the Free World. The land of the free, because of the brave. He wanted a New United States, founded on these old values and humbled by our past experiences. And now...now it's as dead as he is.

May God have mercy on us.

And now, please join me in 101 seconds of silence for the man who could have given us a future.'

Sam's tears fell onto the yellow paper. He could taste the sheer amount of emotion that was in these words, something he had never said about Three Dog's work before. He fell back into one of his chairs, and buried a hand into his face. He tried to compose himself, but he broke into full sobs.

"Sir?" Wadsworth asked, "Are you well?" Sam sniffled, most of his composure back.

"No," He answered, looking up with bloodshot eyes, "Because I have to leave this world again." He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "I went to a world more desolate and hopeless than this one, with a hero to guide into what I've become." He shook the paper in his hands. "A legend." He tossed the paper back onto the table and walked to a trap door beside one of his lockers. He opened it up and walked down the steel stairs to his basement.

"Whatever does that mean?" Wadsworth asked, following him down. He stood by and watched as his owner stripped out of his clothes, down to the bodysuit he always wore. He was standing in front of his sacred T-51b power armor suit, running his hand across the fifty star American flag he waited on its grey surface. He looked into the visor, realizing what he was about to do probably wouldn't even work. He had no idea if it was about to work-

He turned around and stuck his hand out, the limb being surrounded by a green magical aura. His satchel rose up from the ground. Almost all of the containers in the armory opened and tossed in equipment (and most of his clothes) as some equipment from the bag was given back to the containers. Wadsworth's inner functions stopped for a moment. In a minute, his bag was mostly packed for the trip.

"...sir?" He asked, "If you do not mind me asking, what the bloody hell was that?" Sam chuckled, having never heard any Mr. Handy ever curse before.

"Magic," He answered, bending down to grab the last thing he needed to do, "Literally." He brushed the dust off of the golden 101, a sad smile on his face. This jumpsuit had seen him through many hardships, saved his life many times...but now he had to let to go. He could make something else just as tough, something else being the loose UCP-camo jumpsuit he had already stuffed inside his satchel. But the suit reminded him too much of his first home, his former friends, her...

He bundled the suit up in his arms and crept up the two sets of stairs to his bedroom, making sure to not alert his neighbors. He walked into his room, and felt a wave of emotion. The Tunnel Snakes jacket Butch had given him for saving his mom was sitting on his filing cabinet, and in that were the first hand accounts of his adventures, all typed on the typewriter sitting on his desk. His BB gun was resting on the wall, and the container of its pellets was in his desk. Covering it was drawings, of the Ferris wheel of Point Lookout, the Washington Monument in its broken glory, Hoover Dam, the Wright Brothers' first plane laying decrepit on the floor of the Museum of Technology, and a large cog sitting inside a damp, dark cave, a 101 in its center.

Sam cleared a space on his desk and let the jumpsuit on the desk, the 101 showing clearly. He had heard in stories told by the people of Arroyo that the Vault Dweller had left his jumpsuit at home when he left the town for the final time.

He knew that this wouldn't be the last time coming to Megaton on his own power, but if it came to it, this would be his true final resting place. He took one last look, nodded, and turned his back on his memories.

Wadsworth was picking up everything Sam had knocked over when he came down. Neither paid the other any mind. Sam stopped in front of his armor, and with one more nod, began putting it on.

The advances in technology between the T-45d and T-51b had made making the latter much quicker for a single person to put on than the former. He could feel the servos let out quick puffs of air before they snapped in place, and the unique feeling of power armor take place in the area. The feeling of weightlessness, and pure strength. Before he had modified this suit of power armor, he had to take a piece off for his PIP-Boy. Tinkering with the supercomputer gave it a holographic projector, able to project on the new, custom-made vambrace and still be able to function properly. The glove was tossed aside, in favor of the reinforced steel gauntlet that allowed to punch through concrete.

He slipped the helmet on last, and saw as green code appeared on the visor. Within a few seconds, all systems were operational, and he was free to fight. He took a few steps off of the pedestal that he changed in, and gave a few test punches. He marveled over how much power was in the felt while he was barely trying.

He walked to his gun rack, where he selected the weapons to supplement his Deagle in battle. He took his M1 Garand, a rifle he found in New Vegas while snooping around Camp McCarran. He put the rifle in its leather scabbard and slung it over his back, hooking it to loops he installed on his front and back. he slipped a tactical vest, laced with Kevlar and great for carrying ammo efficiently. He put a stockless R91 into his satchel, and put two holsters on his hips. He stuck his Deagle on the right, and his M1911 on the left. Despite the pistol being outmatched by most of the Wasteland's weaponry, and the weakest on Sam's person, it was the most American gun ever made. He picked up the 10mm pistol he carried and slipped it into a holster built into his vest. He slipped his trench knife into his vest, and turned to his heavy gun rack.

He glanced at the selection of heavy weapons-even passing by the Big Boy-before settling on one. He placed both parts of it onto his back, the magnetic plates keeping them together. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, complete with his task. He was ready.

"Well Wadsworth," Sam said, walking up to the Mr. Handy, "It was ice seeing you again."

"I agree wholly, Master Samuel!" The robot replied, "It is nice seeing you after proclaimed de-"

"But I have to wipe your memory of the past half hour." he robot stopped, but Sam didn't give him a chance to reply. He pressed a few buttons on his PIP-Boy, aimed it at him, and the robot's thruster stopped. Sam caught him before he could fall with a clang, and put him on his charging station. He gave a small nod to the robot, and moved back to the pedestal, away from stuff that would leave a bigger mess after he left.

Sam felt like he was betraying his people by doing this, abandoning them in an hour of need, but relaxed. They would have to learn to get by without him.; He had solved a lot of the Wasteland's problems within seven months of him crawling out of Vault 101. And besides-

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

---

Pip threw another piece of wood, this one as big as her torso, over her shoulder with her small mount of magic as she tore apart the crash site of the train.

"Sam!" She shouted, wrapping her TK around a twisted piece of metal and pulled upwards. That was when her magic gave out, and it imploded. She collapsed, but slowly got up and wrapped her forelegs around. "Sam! I know you're here!" She pulled upwards, lacking to strength to make it budge.

"Lil'pip!" Calamity yelled, flying down and grabbing her. He flew her out of the wreckage, much to her vocal opposition.

"No, Calamity, stop!" She tried to kick him in the face, but was dropped back down to the ground as she reared her hooves. "He was right there!"

"Pip, he is dead!" She recoiled at the volume, as did Velvet. "He is Goddess-damned carbon righ' abou' now!" Pip growled.

"He's alive! He's hurting under all of that junk, and I won't stop until he out of th-" Velvet grabbed her and slapped her in the face. It wasn't enough to seriously hurt her, but enough to knock her about of her desperate state of mind.

"Pip, get a hold of yourself!" She shouted, shaking her, "He is gone! We can't do anything about it!" Calamity put a hoof on her shoulder, and she backed down. She left Pip a quivering, shaking mess barely standing on her legs.

"Ah didn't know him long, but long enough to know wha makes him tick. He's ah fighter, and he woulda wanted us tah move on. A least until we were safe and sound." Pip tried to hold back a tear, but broke down. She lunged into Calamity and hugged his neck. Calamity hugged her back, a single tear sliding down his face.

They rested by the wreckage for about an hour, his impromptu grave. When Pip had finally recovered, they began the long walk back to civilization. Within another hour, a few birds were circling the pile of broken wood and twisted steel.

A hand shot out of the wreckage.

---

Footnote-Level up.

New perk added: Clear Headed-You have come to terms with your inner demons. 35% less scoped weapons sway, and 5% VATS hit chance.

Steel Guardian broke 3k views. Thank you all, you don't know how happy I was when I saw the numbers. Anywho...

---

Littlepip ran as fast as her small legs could carry her. She didn't dare look back at the horde. She tried to grab a fallen sky chariot to throw at them, but when she tried her horn sparked. Her reserves were spent.

Calamity swooped down and fired a few shots, three ferals falling dead.

"Don't slow down!" He shouted, "Not fer an instant!" He perched himself onto a half-buried chariot and kept raining fire on the horde.

Velvet was far ahead of Pip, her exhaustion and shorter legs about to be her undoing. She saw Velvet make a turn in the labyrinth of wrecks the had found themselves in, but decided not to follow her as she felt the breath of the ferals behind her. Taking her chances, she leapt through the window of a passenger sky chariot and hoped.

The glass cut into Pip's exposed body, but stopped as it met her saddlebags and armor. As she flew through the air, she felt the strap of her sniper rifle get caught on a piece of metal, trapping her. She tried to bite the strap off as she heard the ferals split up at the end of the wagon. She began truly panicking as she heard Calamity's shots hit the metal hide of the wagon, secretly hoping that one of the bullets would kill her and spare her the fate of live feral food.

As Pip saw the dead, rotted face of a feral at the end of the long room, she bit the strap off. Leaving the rifle in the dust. It would later be broken by the rotted hooves of the ferals that chased her out. As she ran out, she realized that it was a matter of time. That was when she hard the clicks of a piece of metal ricocheting off of a pony's skull. She felt herself lift off of the ground as everything behind her went up in a plume of bright, blue flame. She instantly recognized the flames from the Nuka grenade Sam had demonstrated and explained to her.

'This shit is more flammable than napalm,' He had told her, 'You take a Nuka Quantum-mixed with radiation-put an old AA in it, make a grenade pin, and set everything on fire. I've committed crimes against humanity with it.'

Pip had no idea what he had meant when he said that. But as she turned around to look at the carnage that was created, she did. The flame had spread quickly among the whole group of ferals, and the heat had actually melted some of the bodies into nothing but pools of juice. She could see three whose bodies were fused together. She would've thrown up if she adrenaline wasn't coursing through her veins. She felt the part of her saddlebags that held the lone one that Sam had given her before his passing, and realized it was missing. She twisted her head to Velvet.

"Did you-" She was interrupted by Velvet throwing up all over the carriage they were standing on. Calamity swooped over the two.

"Keep goin'!" He shouted, turning around and firing a few more times. Pip turned back to the remains of the first horde, and saw another one sliding round in the gooey remains of their predecessors. They turned and ran, two feral ghoul pegasi flying over them. Velvet, thinking on the fly, lowered her horn and charged one. Her horn several its spinal chord, and she couldn't suppress an 'ew' as its warm blood rolled down her head. Pip sent a quick shot from Little Macintosh into the other, and they both kept going.

Pip noticed that the sky chariots in front of them had camouflage painted on, and by the looks of it the were transporting turrets. Unfortunately for them, the turrets' main bodies were dented and shot beyond repair. That option was moot, but it didn't stop her from trying in desperation. She ran up to them and tried to reprogram the spell matrices on them, but it was no use when the computer was half dead. Calamity landed in-between her and the ferals, took a quick, hopeless look at her, then turned and opened fire on the horde. She allowed a tear to fall. Velvet pulled out her needler and did the same.

They were going to die, and she couldn't do a thing about it.

---

A hand shot out of the wreckage.

Another followed suit, and together the two arms hoisted its body up and out of the mess.

Sam looked around, wondering why he was brought back here. He shrugged, knowing he should be thankful he knew how to. His brow furrowed, realizing he didn't even try to cast a spell. It just...happened. And he was human...

He wished he knew what was happening.

Shaking his head, he pulled out his M1, fixed its sling on and around his body and began climbing off of the wreckage. The metal he stood on creaked as he jumped off of it, jogging down piles of wood and metal. He felt his armored boots almost sink into the dry sand, and breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to the wreckage of the train, seeing the smokestack of the engine peak out of the top. He flipped the entire pile off with both hands, chuckling as he did so.

"Nice try, ya fucking train!" He exclaimed, "Gonna take more than you to kill me-"

"Wanderer?" Sam immediately pivoted around, dropping to a knee and aiming his rifle at the sound. His aim was lowered as he saw the chrome plating of the eyebot.

"Watcher," Sam greeted getting up and slipping his rifle back into its scabbard, "Almost shot ya."

"H-how are you-what are you?" The machine asked, "Littlepip said you were dead." Sam smiled under his helmet.

"I don't think I've ever felt more alive," He told him, "I made a choice, to stay in my world and waste away at guilt for leaving my friends here, or finish my journey with them." Watcher chuckled, though it sounded weird with the mechanical vocabulator.

"I didn't think you had friends, at least not here." Sam took off his helmet and smiled fully. The eyebot almost shot back as its cameras took in his face.

"Neither did I." They stood in silence for a moment, then Sam took his helmet back on and gestured forward. "Wanna keep this conversation going on the road? If I've been out as long as I think I've been, I've got some catching up to do." He didn't wait for a reply, jogging Northeast back towards New Appleloosa. Watcher kept after him.

He had questions.

---

Watcher had left half an hour ago most of his questions on human anatomy and brief history answered, and Sam was already missing the company of the small band he had found himself with. And Dogmeat. For a man known as the Lone Wanderer, made to wander the wastes, he got lonely.

He twisted his helmet, and a pop signaled the braking of the airtight seal. He slipped it off and stared at the visor. He flipped it around to the back, where a black painting of a warrior could be seen, with a sharp-looking helmet and a long black plume flowing off the back. In his hands were a spear and shield, and he held his weapon upwards in victory.

His father, James, was an intellectual. He loved to learn, and he passed the trait to his son. But instead of becoming interested in medicine and science, like dear old Dad, Sam delved into history books. The tales of people with ambition who did extraordinary things, and the battles fought by ordinary men and women for noble causes. One of those tales was about the Spartans, who he considered the first true supersoldiers in history. Trained from birth in the horrors of war and combat, and lived to fall in the name of Sparta. One of their greatest battles was Thermopylae, where they held off an entire army of 10,000 for three days with only 300.

Ever since he realized his destiny to become a protector of the innocent, and a frontline soldier against the spawns and followers of evil and Hell, he had strived to become as good as them. To become a Spartan.

That was when he heard the screeches. His head shot up, and he slipped his helmet back on. It sounded like a feral ghoul pack or two, and each had more than a few. Gunshots followed.

Sam sprinted towards the sound. He found them.

---

Sam whistled as he found a special surprise after going through the maze of sky chariot wrecks, crème a la ghoul. Lightly toasted, as shown by the steam rising off of the brown-yellow goo. He tred carefully through it, as to not get too much on his boots and not slip and fall in.

'She must've used the Nuka grenade,' He thought, 'Smart girl.' Gunshots came back up, and he heard the shrieks of ferals only a few feet away. He looked around, noting that he gunshots wee on the small cliff in front of him, too high to get there conventionally. The long passenger car leaning against it on its side, however, was easily climbable.

He jumped and pressed his boot into its metal side, making a hole. He reached up for the roof and gripped, warping the metal underneath his fingers. He pulled himself, and noted how much the roof groaned as he put his full weight on it. He looked back up, and saw the three ponies he had prematurely left staging a last stand on top of a few obviously military sky carriages. He walked onto the brown grass and picked up a length of lead pipe. He turned the pipe over in his hands, and smacked it into his open, steel-plated palm. He hit it with enough force that it wouldn't shatter, but just the right amount of noise to be heard over the gunfire and attract their attention. All heads turned to him. He brushed the small piece of artwork on the back of his head, his armored fingers scraping against the Spartan, and walked forward.

Pip's pupils dilated, in utter shock at the figure supposedly there for their rescue. The faceplate of the helmet seemed familiar, but its image only sent one thing through her mind; death. It took only a moment for Calamity identify the figure.

"Shouldn't've doubted ya, Pip," He said as the ghouls slowly creeped forward, as if intimidated by this thing. Ghouls were mindless animals that usually attacked anything that moved; An entire pack afraid of one thing...

"What do you-"

"That's the Wand'rer." Pip looked back to the figure with a furrowed brow, gasping as she remembered where she had seen that helmet. At Old Appleloosa, one of those figures that had saved Sam was this suit of armor.

"That can't be him!" Velvet exclaimed, "That's a monster!"

"Ah monster that's on our side."

Sam pulled out both pieces of his weapon. He held up the main part of his weapon and shoved its three barrels on. He grabbed the handle on the side of the weapon and gripped hard. He pulled away, and the two larger barrels extended outwards to reveal twin three-barreled monsters. The middle-a standard minigun barrel-spun up rapidly, as did the two tri-barrels.

With a roar, it unleashed hell.

Spitting out rounds at a rate of 1,800 rounds per minute, the 5mm bullets sent through the ghoul horde like wheat before a scythe, the wall of lead beheading some. Clustered groups were turned into oozing hamburger meat within seconds, and feral pegasi were ripped to shreds and rained blood and guts onto the ground below. Sam sent a long burst at one of the last pegasi, keeping the creature's remains in the air in tatters before he ran out of ammo. Cursing, he dropped the weapon and pulled out his Deagle and trench knife.

He killed three feral ghouls with one shot, their weak bodies offering no resistance to the mighty bullet. The last pegasi tired to tackle him, but he braced his legs and took the force easily. He stood like a statue as the pegasi broke most of its bones on his metal pauldron. After it fell limply on the ground, Sam lifted his boot and crushed its skull, the pulp flying out the sides of its head and splattering on his boot.

"Mah word," Calamity whispered as Sam finished the ghouls off. He grabbed the neck of one and hoisted him up to his eye level, shoving his Deagle's barrel through its mouth, and shot another through the back of the its head. The last two ghouls-both earth ponies-charged him, jaws flaring. Sam threw the ghoul on his Deagle off and flipped it in his hand, his hand gripping the barrel. He brought the handle down hard on the first ghoul, cracking open its skull and sending blood flying everywhere, splattering on his armor. The sent a hard kick on the bottom of the jaw of the second. Its head was ripped off and sent flying off the cliff and far away, to dissolve a few hundred yards away.

The last's body fell with a wet plop as its body registered its lack of brain activity, flying back with the kinetic force. He shook off the blood on his gun and shoved it back into its holster, and slid his knife back into his vest. As he reached down to grab his minigun, he felt a wave of weakness. He collapsed onto one knee as his own green magic began swirling around his body.

"Sam!" Calamity shouted as his body became enveloped in the violent magic, almost white with the force and speed. Calamity discovered that, after flying above him, that the magic had encased him in a dome.

"Sam!" Pip shouted, trying to summon more magic from zero reserves to save him. Velvet gripped her horn to stop any casting.

"Don't, Littlepip!" She exclaimed, "You'll burn yourself out!" Before Pip could rebuttal, the magic shell began boiling away. Out of the swirling magical gases Sam knelt, his power armor having been changed in shape to fit his new form. The steel cone protecting his horn has slightly more wide and long, as to compensate for another being wearing it. His wings were encased in highly flexible steel plates, easily movable to be comfortable and-if he could graft the wing blades he got off of the dead griffon-weaponized. His unique minigun was turned into a detachable battle saddle on his sides, able to be morphed back to its heavy mode. His Spartan painting had morphed along with him, now showing a rearing stallion with the helmet, spear in mouth and shield on his right foreleg.

Sam slowly rose back onto his four legs, shifting his shoulders. He craned his neck to look at his new body in his armor. He swished his tail, marveling at how the armored cone moved with it, and ruffled his wings with a few clangs. He looked forward back to the ponies he rescued. His friends.

He slid off his helmet and smiled, his first true smile in this desolate Wasteland.

"I'm back."

Pip slowly walked up to him, her eyes wide and mouth agape. Sam's genuine smile shifted to one of nervousness. Calamity and Velvet's look of curiosity didn't help him at all.

"You okay there, Pip?"

She slapped him hard across the muzzle, making him grunt in pain. Before he could make an angry retort, she grabbed his face and kiss him. Hard. His eyes widened at shock and oxygen deprivation. He let memories bubble up, memories he wished he would never remember again.

The jaws of Calamity and Velvet dropped.

Pip let go after a few seconds, gasping for air. Sam was as well, mostly from the confusion of the thing. The memories were still there, and would most likely remain there for the rest of the day.

"Don't EVER do that again," Pip chided, "Understand?" She didn't wait for an answer, turning around and flicking him in the face with her tail as she left. Sam stared dumbfounded ahead, his mind almost blank. He snapped out of it after a few moments, glaring as he heard Calamity's muffled laughter. Sam put his helmet back on and cracked his neck in frustration. His voice was filled with large amounts of annoyance.

"Yes, ma'am."

---

Footnote: Level up.

New Perk: Grand Entrance-You know how to make an entrance. Sneak attack damage is increased by 10%.

---

Sorry this took awhile, but I had track and state testing keeping me away. Now track is almost done, testing is done, and summer around the corner. I have most of this done already, I thought this would be a good place to cut off and divide Moral of the Story. The next part is bigger, and hopefully out by Friday. If not, Sunday, I have a track invite that'll last all day.

Thanks for sticking with this.

"Celestia watch you and keep you safe,

As you travel down the path you choose.

May Luna be with you and keep you strong,

So your courage you will never lose.

Remain loyal, honest and brave,

Forget not the ones that you save

And in our hearts you will do no wrong."

Sam had been to many places, had listened to many radio stations and drank in many dingy bars. He had never seen-or heard-such a talented singer. Velvet had been crafting her song for the past hour or so, and had a part of his mind mesmerized as the larger, more professional part kept tabs on the surrounding area. Pip and Calamity were amazed as well, though Calamity rolled his eyes constantly at Velvet's constant striving for perfection, changing lyrics and tunes on a whim.

"And you've always been able to do this?" Sam asked. Velvet gave him a small smile.

"According to my cute mark, I've been able to do this all my life." Sam snorted, having already been told the whole business with cutie marks.

"What about being a medic? Saving people?" He asked turning his head toward her, "Your cutie mark say anything about that?" He looked back forward, checking his compass for any possible targets. "If I had let a magical tattoo on my ass tell me how to live my life..." He trialed off, looking forward. He stopped and held up his right hoof. Hold. Calamity took the hit, stopping and crouching to the ground.

"What ya got, Sam?" He shook his head.

"False alarm," He answered, "That thing scared the shit outta me, that's all." Calamity followed his eyes and failed to hold in a breath. It was a giant billboard, bigger than he had ever seen. Whatever paint that had been used was very hardy, as the only wear was the grime of the Wasteland that blanketed every crevice everywhere. It took Sam only a moment to realize that the face he was looking at was the same on the poster he and Pip studied after walking out of IronShod. It seemed every strand in her candy cane-looking mane was the same, and the eyes still seeming to follow him everywhere he went. This was the worst-in Sam's educated opinion-propaganda effort he had seen, an unending stare looking over the country, able to see anything and everything you were doing. He could vaguely remember the mare's name.

Pinkie Pie.

When it was first erected, when it hadn't been scorched by atomic-or whatever these ponies to destroy themselves-fire, it would've been classified by playful, like a face playing peekaboo with the entire country. But now, it was just-

"Luna-damned, fucking, creepy!" Pip let out. Sam chuckled.

"That's a way to put it-"

"Hello, Littlepip!" Sam snapped his head in the direction of the voice, finding a sprite bot floating near them. Pip screamed and scrambled away, while Calamity had to bite her tail so she didn't go running off the cliff. Sam didn't say a word, turning his back on everyone to watch out for any danger, the sun setting behind the billboard. He remembered the terrible creatures that came out at night in the American Wastelands.

"You are so lucky I can't telekinetically hurl rocks at you right now!" Pip threatened, her hostile body language lowering. Calamity seemed a little nervous around the thing, and his nervousness made Velvet nervous.

"Lil'pip-"

"Watcher, are they safe?" The sprite bot bobbed in the air, as if nodding its head.

"Yes, the wagons are on their way. Although Ditzy Doo might now be under the impression that you can hack sprite bots and send messages through them. Heh, sorry about that."

"Lil'pip," Calamity said heatedly, "Ah don't trust that thing!" Sam snorted, turning back around.

"I sometimes I think I shouldn't either, Dixie," Sam said, "Because he sent my confused ass into one of the biggest raider dens I've ever seen." A question came to his mind, and he slowly walked toward the sprite bot. "Speaking of which, why'd you do that?" Watcher was silent for a moment.

"They needed help." Sam narrowed his eyes.

"So you send a stranger-that was literally popped into existence-and watched what happened?"

"I've told you before," Watcher responded, "You needed to catch your bearings in this Wasteland, and you seemed like a stallion that would have came in anyway...Wanderer." Sam backed down, smiling under his helmet. This bot controller knew him to well.

"'Popped into existence'?" Velvet asked, "Who exactly are you?" Sam sighed.

He told them everything.

---

Well, everything he was comfortable with telling. He started with a half-truth story about how he got into the Enclave outpost, and ended with his daring rescue of his three companions. He didn't mention any of that strange voice that had tried to take control of him. That was a personal issue.

"Well, that was very interesting," Watcher said as he finished, "But I'm almost out of time!" Pip looked down to the ground, a question floating in her mind.

"Watcher, you seem to know a lot about things."

"Well, yeah," Watcher said bashfully.

"What were the Ministries?" Watcher was silent, thinking for an answer.

"Remember when I told you-both of you-that you should search for your virtue? And I told you about the greatest heroes of Equestria?"

"Yep," Sam answered. He was truly surprised he could still remember it, for that was the day he was killed.

"The Massacre at Littlehorn broke Princess Celestia's heart. After that, nearly midway through the war, Princess Celestia decided she wasn't the right pony to lead Equestria anymore. So she stepped down, abdicated her position to Her sister, Princess Luna. The war had been devastating, both abroad and at home. Equestria was in severe distress, suffering from troubles within as well as from the enemy armies. You can't imagine what it was like back then." Sam had heard from Pre-War ghouls, and had been through a simulation showing it. "Those heroes I told you about? They were six amazing ponies with true hearts and virtuous souls, whose friendship held the power to change the world." Sam resisted snorting in amusement. "Princess Celestia had always been like a mother to them. she saw them, one in particular, as her children. She loved them and wanted to protect them. So Princess Celestia shielded them from the worst of the war, finding quests for them that kept them, mostly, out of harm's reach, or at least away from the battlefields. Sending them on diplomatic missions to the griffins and the buffalo-things like that. Princess Luna met them for the first time in a much different circumstance. Princess Luna respected them and saw them as her equals. And, I really think, as her saviors. And so when Princess Luna ascended to rule Equestria and fight the war, she called Equestria's most valuable heroes to serve as her personal advisors. She called for the creation of new offices of government, one under each of them, whose job would be to take their advice and find ways to implement it."

"And those were the Ministries?" Pip asked.

"Yes." Sam humphed.

"'The road to hell is paved with good intentions'," He quoted, looking out to vast wasteland below from their vantage point. Emphasis on wasteland. "That's one of many things aligned with my world and yours."

"A shitty story moral."

---

When making the trek to California, Sam had had to cut through the Great Plains, the breadbasket of the old United States. He had seen hundreds upon thousands of destroyed homesteads, with collapsed homes, damaged by neglect, and cracked open barn silos no worse for wear than their parent barns. Only a few instances were these homesteads still in varying degrees of livable and used, though most of the time they were hideouts for escaped slaves and raiders alike. This, however, seemed to still be lived in by a down-to-earth family, with a warm, welcoming glow coming from several windows and a thin trail of smoke flowing from the chimney.

Even if the people living in this place weren't liking to strangers, the barn would be a good place to take off his armor, which he had been wearing for almost twelve hours. The body/muscle suit he constantly wore was unleashed to its true potential when coupled with the rest of the T-51b, but was prone to be overworked. And when it overworked, the wiry synthetic muscles would be in danger of violently pulling apart, slicing the wearer's body into slices of pepperoni. The kinks were close to being worked out when the war started, as Sam had found out when digging through some military base near Detroit.

'Damned Great War,' Sam thought, taking in the details of the small house, with its cracked paint stained with long lost hellfire and the ashes of innocent victims. 'What was it good for?

He disregarded three crooked planks standing in the dirt, chalking it up as neglect of a fence.

He took a glance at Pip, and her growing nervousness about the farm. He would definitely have to talk to her about that kiss. It felt...weird. A good and bad weird.

Like She was back with him.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea." Pip's nervous observation knocked him out of his trance. The house's friendly demeanor suddenly changed to one of evil. Sam felt cold slide into his bones. Like the place was unholy, as if something terrible had taken place within its boundaries.

"I'm getting bad vibes here," Sam let out, biting nervously into the bit in front of his mouth. He felt silent thuds as machinery in his minigun started activating. "Something's fucked up. Seriously fucked up." Velvet marched past the two, with Calamity following her.

"Really,you two," Velvet chided, "You shouldn't sound so jaded-" She was making to knock when the door swung open. There was nobody blocking the sea of light that fell over them. Velvet blinked at the lack of a person at the door, and looked down to see a strange looking filly.

The first thing that popped into Sam's mind was pink. Very bright pink paint plastered on her coat that almost hurt his eyes as he looked at it. If he didn't know better, he would have through that the filly was a very small and young Pinkie Pie. On her forehead was a very rough scar, along the lines of extreme lacerations he had seen on people that had had run-ins with a Super Mutant and their bumper sword. His eyes glided over her small body, confirming that she was an earth pony. He noted her bare flank; She must've not found her 'special talent' or whatever the fuck Pip had told him. That part of pony biology infuriated him.

Pip's eyes widened as she realized she painted herself pink. 'About time,' He thought, 'Withdrawal is getting worse.'

"Hello dear," Velvet said, her voice sounding very nervous, "Is your mother-"

"Oh my gosh!" The filly shouted, jumping up and squealing in happiness. She immediately fell back down, her hoof to her mouth in horror. "Oh no, You're too late! I waited for you all day, but now we're closed!" The filly's eyes welled with tears while Sam tried to figure out what 'we' meant. Velvet took a step back, frightened.

"Oh dear. I'm so sorry, young one, but we're not-"

"Of course you're not! As if we ever close!" The filly's mood turned around instantly again, giggling like a maniac. She ran out of the house, dashing past them, then spun back around with a very somber expression on her muzzle. "You really should hurry though; Nasty things haunt these fields at night!" She squealed with glee and beelined towards the silo. Sam stood in place as Velvet and Pip followed the filly.

"Ya comin', partner?" Sam was tempted to say no. This filly had the telltale signs of a tragic Wasteland back story. He had heard them all, from deaths of parents and robots and friends, to mind control powers and an entire town of cannibals, and another full of mines. It seemed that this, however, would be a strange mix of most of these components.

"This girl is crazy." Calamity snorted in amusement.

"Voicing our thoughts, Wand'r," He replied, "Migh' t'as well entertain 'er, right?" Sam nodded.

"I got the armor to negate a missile-" He tapped his armored hoof against his pauldron for emphasis, getting a series of clangs in response. "-I'm just worrying about you guys." Calamity laughed, shaking his head. He followed Sam to the silo, both going at a light trot to catch up.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Velvet called out to the silo as Sam and Calamity caught up, "But we didn't get your name?"

"Oh!" The filly exclaimed, giggling, "Of course! Sorry! I'm just so excited! You're the first visitors I've had to the museum in...oh ages!" She giggled again, unnerving Sam. "Oh, I'm Pinkie Bell!"

"Museum?" Pip asked. Memories of going across the Wasteland looking for Nuka Cola Quantum flashed in his mind. He prayed to God that this filly wasn't Sierra Petrovita's cross dimension sister.

'Pinkie Bell' opened the door of the silo door, and Sam's eyes widened under his helmet. It looked like a one ton bomb full of paint had exploded inside of the silo, which was splattered all over the walls. In a way, it reminded him of his first Behemoth kill outside of Galaxy News Radio.

"Welcome to the Pinkie Pie Museum!" Pinkie Bell exclaimed, bouncing on her hooves, "This here is the number one museum of all things Pinkie Pie in all of Equestria!"

'Oh shit, it's Sierra,' Sam's mind shouted. His pupils were shrunk in fear behind his visor, taking the whole scene in. He looked over to Calamity, who had a small, relieved smile on his face.

"Something ain't right here," He whispered in his mic, which went into Calamity's earpiece. "Stay sharp, Dixie." Calamity's smile faded.

"And what do you know, you're just in time for the tour!" Pinkie Bell exclaimed, apparently not knowing what an inside voice was, "Now where's our tour guide? She better not be sleeping again...oh wait! It's me!" She cackled again, and Sam saw her eyes go crossed for a second. It quickly melted away, and she began to drone about the story of Pinkie Pie.

Sam quickly tuned her out as she went on about the life story of the mare. From the bits and pieces he had bothered to comprehend, she had resided in Ponyville most of her life, the same town that he had first visited. He did a quick check of his inventory-just to be certain he had enough to defuse a possible situation. He had about five thousand rounds of 5mm, more than enough to keep his minigun running for a lengthy engagement. His Garand had about one thousand .30-06, but was modified to also fire .308 if he ever ran out. His Deagle had half of that in .50. He only grabbed 600 rounds of 5.56 for his R-91, and three frag grenades with ten fission batteries. And, to top it all off, three mini-nukes. He'd have to make those count, he couldn't remake them or buy more.

"-And they danced and danced all day and all night! And best of all this is the very silo where Pinkie Pie, as a young filly, invented the first party ever and got her Cutie Mark!" Sam snorted at the obvious lie, getting his eyes off of his inventory.

"I'm fairly certain that parties have existed for more than two-hundred and fifty years," He heard Velvet whisper to Pip. Pinkie Bell either didn't hear the comment or decided to ignore it.

"During the first years of the war, Pinkie Pie traveled all over, throwing parties for Equestrian troops about to head into battle! Bringing them a taste of their homeland, and more importantly, bringing them cheer and putting smiles on their faces!" She gestured wildly to pictures of Pinkie Pie adorning the wall, dancing on stage in front of thousands of ponies while wearing ridiculous outfits. "That is, when she wasn't on super secret missions for Princess Celestia!"

'To children's hospitals?' Sam thought.

"She looks a lot smaller in person," Pip commented, looking at one of the good pictures of her in the museum. She was sitting in front of a building that looking like a gingerbread house, with two ponies-a stallion and a mare, both earth ponies-beside her.

"Pinkie Pie's only regret was that she couldn't be everywhere helping all the troops all the time-Although with Dash, she could come pretty close! So of course-"

"Dash her friend or Dash the drug?" Calamity asked.

"-When Princess Luna offered to give Pinkie Pie a whole Ministry of her very own to do whatever she wanted to with it, she pounced on the chance!" The girl was on a roll, it seemed. "And the Ministry of Morale was born!" She pointed to a poster, one that looked very familiar to Sam and Pip. It was the same poster they had seen when walking out of IronShod, albeit in much better condition. Sam felt more than a little uncomfortable around the poster, like when he was around sentry bots. The feeling of always being watched, and you were about to get peppered with lasers and missiles if you made a wrong move.

Pinkie Bell twirled over to a chemistry set. It was in good condition, and wouldn't look out of place in a raider den, or a medical station of some sort across the American Wastelands.

"Pinkie Pie was always really great at cooking things. And when Princess Luna declared that the drugs that were flooding Equestria from zebra lands were harmful to the people, Pinkie Pie decided to prove that they could be good, a fun addition to any party! Working day and night, Pinkie Pie concocted a mixture of Mint-als and some of her favorite things, creating... dun dun DUN! Party Time Mint-als!" She lifted up a large tin of the pills from underneath the table, the label not as worn as it should have been. He saw Pip lick her lips.

She couldn't get that tin.

"-by that time the Ministry of Morale had transformed Pinkie Pie into an iconic figure who transcended the boundaries of one pony to become a mystical figure that easily stood alongside Princess Celestia and Princess Luna Themselves! Little colts and fillies knew that Pinkie Pie was always watching them. She saw everything they ever did. And if they were good little colts and fillies, who were nice and friendly, who did their chores and smiled and laughed and never spread seditious lies, then on their birthdays, Pinkie would bring them a wonderful party! But if they were bad little colts and fillies, Pinkie Pie would bring them a rock!" Sm looked over to the others, as if to confirm the story. A head of state becoming a strange knockoff of Santa Claus? By the look of their faces, this was as new to them as it was to him.

He was about to say something when he saw Pinkie Bell stop, taking in a big breath and holding still. She stayed in that position for a few seconds before sighing.

"I'm sorry, I thought I felt an impromptu musical number coming on."

"What the actual fuck...?" Sam muttered under his breath, Pinkie not able to hear.

"Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, how Pinkie Pie brings parties!" It seemed it wouldn't have fazed her either.

"Brings?" Velvet asked, "Dear, you do know that Pinkie Pie is dead, don't you?"

"Oh, she's physically dead!" Pinkie Bell retorted, not skipping a beat, "But her spirit lives on inside all of us!" Velvet laughed quietly, as if accepting the filly's mental insanity. Sam couldn't, not after how many times he'd seen stuff like this.

"I think Pinkie Pie's spirit has a stalker," Pip whispered. Sam snorted.

"She's forming a cult, not stalking," Sam shot back, shaking his head. Pip looked up to him, frowning.

He tuned out the rest of the tour, instead thinking of a way to solve his situation. He had to get him and his friends out of his crazy filly's nightmare, and maybe save her from it. That was a secondary objective, however; He took care of his own first in these kinds of situations. The second was making sure Pip did not get ahold of that tin. He was afraid of her, he had seen good people shrivel away with drug problems and he refused to have her be added to that list.

"It turns out, I have the only copy of the recipe for Party-Time Mint-als!" That second objective just got a lot harder. "And I'd be willing to share it with you if you can bring me the one piece of my Pinkie Pie Museum collection that I'm missing! A limited edition Pinkie Pie magical statuette!"

"Bring it here, and I'll throw the party to end all parties!"

---

"I shouldn't have made fun," Velvet said as she paced. Sam snorted, glancing to see her pacing on the rough wooden boards that made of the floor of the small bedroom that Pinkie Bell 'insisted' they stayed in for the night. He took off his helmet, flicking his ears to relive some of the pain in them, and set it on the ground. Pip stared at it. He grunted and hit a small button on his chest armor, which was usually covered by his pauldrons. The front of the armor detached and fell to the floor with a loud thud. It cracked the floorboards underneath it.

Calamity jumped from his position on the bed, his ear to the wall. He glared at Sam, who shrugged.

"It's ten pounds of composite, what do ya expect?" He asked. Calamity shook his head and kept at his job of listening for the painted pink filly. Shook smirked at took off his greaves with flashes of magic, all four of the armor pieces hissing as the airtight seal was broken and falling to the ground with small thuds. He threw them all in his bag and pulled out his normal outfit at the same time.

"That poor filly," Velvet said, "She's so terribly sad."

"Sad?" Calamity whinnied, taking his ear off of Were ya listenin' t' the same little pink-painted ball o' Dash tha' was?" He remembered his confusion. "The drug." Velvet stopped pacing, her head hung low.

"Oh yes. And that poor girl is NOT happy, not at all." She sighed. "She's full of pain. Something horrible must have happened to her." Sam slipped on his camo jacket, putting his duster on short after.

"I've seen something like this happen before," Sam said, "Sierra Petrovita. Her parents were killed when her homestead was raided by slavers when she was young, and she was put in chains for four years." Sam's eyes glassed over as he stared into space, remembering the night when Sierra broke down when he completed his job for her. "She was a pleasure slave, and when she was freed by some guy that bought slaves their freedom, her mind was already broken. Shattered like a glass bottle." He nodded to the silo. "She started a Nuka Cola museum, not unlike this Pinkie Pie shrine." Velvet shivered as Sam blinked, getting his mind out of his memories. "I'll bet my Deagle that her family was murdered in front of her, and she was left the place to do as she pleased. Lie starting a museum dedicated to Pinkie Pie." Calamity's head perked up at the stakes.

"Yer on!" He exclaimed. Sam looked over to him, an eyebrow raised. He grinned when he saw he wasn't kidding. Both Wastelanders spit on their hooves and shook.

"That's one morbid bet," Velvet said in a disapproving tone of voice.

"Welcome to the Wastes, Stable Dweller," Sam replied, almost harshly, as he dropped his hoof and Calamity jumped back to the bed. Velvet recoiled, both at the tone of his voice and the look in his eye.

"She's gone," Calamity said a few moments after he reassumed position, "An' if ya don't want somethin' horrible t' happen t' us, Ah suggest we be leavin' too." He trotted to the door and pulled on the handle. The door didn't move. He pulled harder, but the door didn't budge. It was locked.

"Maybe she's just trying to us safe from the 'nasty things' that haunt the fields at night?" Pip asked, trying to lift the spirits of everyone. It didn't work. Velvet went up to the door and tired to push it open.

"Doesn't matter," She whinnied, "We're leaving. I will not be locked in a cage." Sam backed up to the windows, preparing to ram the door. He was about to charge when Calamity stopped him.

"Ya know how much noise tha'll make?" He asked. Sam relaxed his muscles and stood straight up, looking down at the ground. Pip shushed them both, gaining their attention. She simply pointed a hoof outside. A crack of dimly pulsing, colored light appeared as the filly holding them hostage pushed open the door of the barn just enough to slide through, then pushed it shut behind her.

Calamity and Sam both waited, quiet and still, until the door of the farmhouse opened, casting a rectangle of light across the ground with Pinkie Bell's silhouette. The moment the door closed Sam quickly charged a spell in his horn and released it.

A blinding flash filled the room just after a beam of silver light left the tip of his horn, with only a small pop being emitted. The moment after the flash, the window pane was gone, the ash pile that trickled down form the frame all that was left.

The group went quickly back down to the ground, with two winged ponies that carried the non-winged ones down. They crept across the farm, sticking to the shadows when necessary. The only times were when they heard a noise coming from the farmhouse. Sam took point, with Pip bringing up the rear, as they hugged the wall of the barn.

There was a loud pop form above them. Sam's heart stopped and he crouched against the wall, rifle pointing upwards. He felt pieces of glass rain down on his body, his thick leather outer wear protecting him. He looked up, and saw the useless base of a lightbulb. He sighed in relief, a small smile on his face. He looked back to his group, who he could barely see in the dark. He nodded forward, and they continued.

Five minutes later, they were resting on the same hill they came down earlier. Sam saw the view of the homestead without the filters of his power helmet, and the place looked-felt-more sinister than before.

"Y'all good?" Calamity asked, "Velvet?"

"Been better," She muttered, "Though I wish we could've stayed and helped that poor little filly."

"Sam?"

"I wanna get out of here," He said, "That place still feels...wrong."

"Pip?" There was no answer. "Pip?" Sam looked around them, panic rising in his body. He looked back to the homestead, centering on the barn. His eyebrows furrowed, and he grit his teeth in frustration.

'She's getting that recipe!'

---

Sam rose in the air, his wings silent as they flapped. He landed quietly on the roof of the barn, almost slipping off from excess rainwater from the downpours the day before.

Before he decided to make his own entrance, he noticed a section of the white-faded roof covered by a black tarp. He slowly took it off with his magic, and found a jagged hole big enough for him to squeeze into. He grimaced, noting a small two-seated carriage on the hay loft below. He could see a skeleton laying underneath it where the driver could be situated, two of its ribs broken by the wooden beams on top of it.

Sam jumped down and landed like a cat beside the long rotted corpse, making sure not to trod on it. He hurried down the loft and glided down to the ground floor. He saw Pip standing in front of a heavy safe, looking at the prize inside it.

"It's rude," He said, making Pip freeze up, "To take something that doesn't belong to you." She stayed still, as if hoping that his vision was based on movement. He walked up to the safe beside her, pushing her away to see what was inside.

"Sorry," She said, "I wasn't thinking-"

"No shit?" Sam interrupted, glancing behind him, "You were blatantly stealing, something you know isn't right, from a ten-year old." She looked down, averting eye contact. Sam felt like he was disciplining a child. "Yeah, feel ashamed." He shook his head, grumbling insults under his breath. He looked back inside, seeing only a holotape of some sort.

'Whatever they call them here,' He thought bitterly, popping open his holoplayer with a smack. He slid the tape in and waited for the different systems to interact, merge and work. Within a moment, the recording started. The voice was feminine and young, a little older than Pinkie Bell.

Peartree,

The raiders came back yesterday. They didn't take kindly to daddy running them off last week with his shotgun, so this time they came in force. Mama made us hide in the upstairs bedroom and cast a spell over us to keep us from being seen. She made us promise to be quiet and still. But Silver Bell...

My little sister has always been able to make beautiful music, like the tinkling of dozens of magical bells. We all adore it. But Silver Bell, sometimes when she's frightened or worried, the spell happens all on its own. She didn't mean to. It was an accident.

The raiders killed mama and daddy. They killed them really slow and brutal. And they made us watch. It was...

I buried them out by the end of the east field. Put up a couple planks as tombstones. I hate that they won't last long, but I can't carve their names into rocks. And mama and daddy deserve to have their names over their graves.

Silver Bell has nightmares every night. Honestly, I do most nights too. And during the days she just curls up silent-like. Never crying. Never smiling. I can't even get her to eat. I don't know what to do.

I'm going to try taking her to Tenpony Tower. I've heard there's a buck up there who takes in orphans. It's a long walk, and so I'm headed up to gather provisions from the neighbors. If I'm not back when you get here, please load up the wagon. I know I can't ask you to come with us; you have your own folks to take care of. But I would really appreciate it if you could hang around so I could say goodbye.

You're the best buckfriend I could have asked for.

Love, Memory."

Pip stood silent as the voice cut out, while Sam staggered. He leaned on the safe, tears in his eyes.

"Oh God," He whispered, "Those planks..."

"You shouldn't have listened to that!" An angry little voice said behind them. They turned and saw Silver Bell standing there, a fiery expression on her face with tears in her eyes. Sam's eyes widened as they fell back on the scar on her forehead. She cut off her own horn out of guilt.

"Silver Bell," Sam said softly, walking slowly toward her, "I...I'm so sorry."

"It's. Not. Yours." She sniffled, tears leaking out of her eyes. "You want it so much? Keep it!"

"You're not like Pinkie Pie," Another voice said behind them all. It was Velvet, her voice slow and saddened. "You are, if anything, the opposite of Pinkie Pie." Silver started to shake.

"That's not true!" She shouted, her words full of hate.

"You don't bring happiness. When I look at you, all I feel is sad." Sam sniffed and stood straight once more. "If Pinkie Pie were to meet you, she wouldn't throw a party..."

"Yes she would!" Velvet stopped her slow advance, thinking.

"Maybe she would," She said after a moment, "But she wouldn't throw a party because she wanted to have fun with you. She would throw a party because she wanted to help you. Because you would make her very sad."

"W-w-what do y-you know?"

"I know that laughter, real laughter, isn't forced. It isn't something you paint on to hide how you are truly feeling." Silver Bell vibrated faster as Velvet neared her, torn between turning into a tornado of tiny hooves or curling up and crying. "I know that you are very badly hurt inside, and it's not the sort of hurt that can be fixed with a party. Or healed by my horn."

"What happened to your parents wasn't your fault, what happened to your sister wasn't your fault..." Sam closed his eyes and turned his head away. Behind Velvet, Calamity could see a lone tear fall from his eyes.

He wondered but Memory's last moments were like. Did she ever get to their neighbor's, who were probably a day's walk from where they were standing? Was she taken down by a passing animal, or a lone raider that lingered behind for so long?

"YES! IT! WAS!" Silver Bell fell o her knees, sobbing hard. Velvet dropped down with her, wrapping her foreleg around her body and putting her chin on her head. Silver Bell wrapped her legs around her neck and almost strangled her, as if if she let go she would die. She was given a shoulder to cry on, something she had needed for months.

Sam looked away from the heartbreaking scene and looked to the ceiling, seeing a small opening to look at the night sky. He saw a few stars twinkling like they always did, oblivious to the horrors of the earth they were looking down upon.

'Why, God?' Sam prayed, 'Why do you stand by and watch?'

'Why can't there be a happy ending?'

---

Footnote: Level up

New Perk: Power Endurance-Experience with power armor and its muscle suit has told you how to coax it to work better for longer. Limit in Power Armor is increased 10%, and Unarmed damage with Power Armor on is increased 5%.

---

Me actually meeting a deadline? Weird.