"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.