Prologue: Gathering Doubts

War, war never changes. When the megaspells tore apart the world and left a husk in its destructive wake there was little left to anypony to hold on to. Equestria the crowning glory of the world was reduced to a skeleton of its former self amidst the crumbling cities and the severely irradiated surroundings, causing ponies to eke out a miserable existence in the remains of a once great civilization. The survivors of the great war, having lost their heroes, only spiralled further in to chaos. These ponies had become scavengers, slavers and raiders in order to cope with the brutal and unforgiving wasteland that once was Equestria.

Despite the harsh living conditions someponies had tried to forge and reforge their broken race through questionable means: Red Eye, The Goddess, and Sanguine to name a few. These wanted to recreate Equestria in their own image with the blood of innocents leading the broken Equestria to an even bleaker future.

However the actions of a few ponies like the Stable Dweller and Security had prevented their plans from coming to fruition. Little Pip and Black Jack along with their friends was able to find other more reasonable and humane means and was finally able to restore the harmony in Equestria. But while the land of Equestria had already healed.

Even when the journey of LittlePip and Black Jack has already ended, the story of the Equestrian Wasteland had just begun. There were still questions that demanded answers and new questions formed in the process, thus allowing new stories to unfold.

…Static…
A pony was coughing in the background. “Relax, Stitch, walls are sound proofed and for the last time stop calling it an act of treason!” somepony sounded irate.

“Then tell me, Helix, why all the need for the hush-hush.” A pale gray pony answered back. He was in a scrub dirtied with grime and grease. “This should be worth as you made me cancel my other appointments this afternoon. “ Stitch brows had arced sharply, trying his best to not sound or act angry.

“I know, and I appreciate that you’d given up some of your time just to hear me out.” Helix said sweeping away the objects on the table. The vials broke against the floor and the books and research notes gave a thud.
“Have you gone mad!” Stitch screamed as he tried to gather the paraphernalia that had scattered on the floor. He had noticed there was a fire in Helix’s eyes.

Using his telekinesis Helix brought out a piece of blueprint from the pockets of his scrub. At first Stitch had thought it was something of little significance and that his good friend had just lost his mind due to the stress of his work. Then his eyes caught something in the well-used parchment that was now clearly spread on the table.

“Oh dear Celestia, is this what I think it is?” Stitch said, as he neared the paper his eyes had widened in shock. “This survived the great war?” the pale grey pony slowly placed and traced his hoof along the schematics, reading detail after detail.

“Initially I was worried about a lot of things. With the New Canterlot Republic just recently formed, I was sceptical about how we could defend it. Even up to now NCR still remains a fledgling sovereignty and there are reports of increasing remnant activities outside and within Equestria….The point is that history will repeat itself. If we cannot establish superiority over the remnants then it will be another Great War again. It doesn’t really help that we can barely muster up the forces to invade and crush all of Equestria’s enemies as we are still recovering from the after effects of megaspells. I understand that while the land has indeed healed there are still much emotional and psychological scars that persist in us ponies, we are not simply ready for another open large-scale warfare. I was desperate… thinking of anything, short of another megaspell to use on Roam or what’s left of it. Then one of the retrieval teams uncovered ‘this’ at the former Ministry of Peace building.” Helix said, then realized that Stitch was looking at him anxiously. “There I go again rambling. I hope you understand what I am saying and what ‘this’ can do.”

“I know what ‘this’ does. However I don’t think the top brass or anypony with a sane mind is going to approve of ‘this’.” Stitch said rolling the blue print and giving it back to Helix. He pressed his hoof over Helix’s with the parchment in between. “Promise me you will never speak of this again and promise me you will incinerate ‘this’ when I leave this room. I shall go get General Grey Mane and have you released from your duties. Clearly it is making you delusional.”
Helix expression remained the same the dark red pony merely smiled and looked in the eyes of his friend calmly, hoping that his friend would somehow be persuaded.

Stitch stomped his hoof on the table. The pale pony knew what that expression meant on his face. “Tell me you didn’t Helix. Tell me you didn’t.” He shouted at the dark red colt.

“I wish you told me sooner. There’s no way you can stop me. ‘This’ is already in motion.”

Stitch exhaled, his frustration was beginning to get to him, then he approached dark red unicorn and bucked him hard in the face.

The body of a pony flew hard out the door of the bar and landed with a sickening crack on the center of the craggy concrete road. No sooner a calm looking skeletal unicorn had also exited and stood smoking a cigar in front of the broken pony.
“Had enough Ah hope, unless yah think otherwise, but that mighty sounded like yer ribs crackin on the road,” the skeletal pony said and raised his hoof. The raiders that loitered around the town understood that signal and inched closer to the helpless pony.

“The thing isn’t with me anymore. I can’t tell you where it is, because I don’t know where it is!” Brownie said. The battered buck became more scared as raiders started surrounding him.

“Well, I do believe yah. However I don’t think Cash will be pleased ta’ hear that yah lost it. Yah gotta give me some assurance that yah, can find it again.” No Pulse said drawing the revolver from his holster.

“Please, I don’t know! No-Pulse I have a family ta’ feed,” tears were beginning to well up Brownie’s eyes as he realized he was going to meet his end soon.

No-Pulse merely sighed and pressed the muzzle of his revolver at Brownies forehead. “Yah, tellin’ me, that yah have no use for that noggin of yers. I reckon yah know what old folks say about useless parts: yah better of cuttin’ them off. Am Ah right?”

“No-Pulse, please don’t do this…” the pony squeaked as he saw the revolver’s trigger slowly start to curve back. Brownie closed his eyes and prayed it would not hurt as much.

BANG!

Brownie felt he was alive he waited for a few seconds for a sharp pain, but it never came. He saw there was a small smoking crater where the bullet had lodged itself inches from his head.

No Pulse used his telekinesis to draw his weapon back and turned away to return to the bar. “Yah heard me, Brown. Use yer noggin and get that 'thing' back. Cash hates waiting.”

“Rough him up a bit more and throw him in to the the nearest clinic, Casing. Don’t get too carried away and tell him he has three days before we start looking for ‘it’ and him if he fails ta’ find ‘it’.” No-Pulse ordered a raider standing beside him as he walked away and back to the bar.

“Oh thank you No-Pulse…” the earth ponies voice trailed off. Brownie’s new found joy turned to terror as the raiders slowly descended upon him.

Chapter 1: Happy Trails (1st Draft)

Chapter 1

Every day, every same thing, every same pony, Blue thought as she proceeded to the source of the scream.

“Blue, I think there’s a radigator in mah’ bath tub! Scarcity squeaked.

“…And sadly it didn’t eat you alive,” muttered Blue as she entered the room. Scarcity was on top of her bed with her hoof pointed out some creature in the toilet. Blue recognized that creature. It was no radigator , and while it did have sharp claws and even sharper fangs, the size of the creature prevented it from eating anything larger than a hoofball. “Scarcity, that ain’t a radigator. That there’s a gecko, while it can harm yah it can’t kill you, unless in groups of more than five.” Blue sighed and was about to walk out the door. “You can just bludgeon it with a rolling pin.”

“Don’t just leave me without killing it!” said Scarcity, she was not in any state to get off her bed.
Blue wondered how Scarcity could have lasted all the years living in a community near the outskirts of Equestria. Sure, she was a descendant of some stable dweller (not ‘The Stable Dweller’) but she was the second generation. A generation that should have been already accustomed to the lifestyle of a newly (and partially restored) Equestria and while there were still indeed some safety concerns here and there it was not as bad as the famed Stable Dweller and Security dealt with during their times. Her head hurt thinking about what Scarcity would have done if she ever did meet slavers or raiders. Blue bitterly thought: Probably scream loud enough to blow their heads off.

These were times where she had thought about leaving the town of Calm Rivers only to be reminded of why she went there in the first place. Everything went on a routine, it was only occasionaly that something unexpected happened, but she reminded herself that she was no longer part of the NCR. It was her decision to apply for a discharge after eight years of service and while she did enjoy the company of her squadron, she had to leave it all behind

“Blue,” Old Prune emerged from his shack hauling a cart full of junk, and varmint rifle in mount.

“Yeah, Prune what is it?” Blue said looking distant.

“Blue, yah distracted why is that?” the ageing stallion asked.

“Nothing,” the mare replied. “Are you ready to go hunting?”

Prune looked at her hinting at something.

“Oh, fuck! It’s the town festival today. I’m sorry.” Blue said

“No need to apologize, I know I’m gonna sound cheesy and such, but something’s bothering you. Do tell,” the stallion raised an eyebrow and walked the path leading to town square with Blue following him. “It’s ok if you won’t share it now, but keeping whatever it is bottled up is not healthy for anypony. I’ll always be in my shack if yah need me.”

The festival was nothing noteworthy to Blue however she was thankful that it kept her mind of things and made her feel relaxed. Almost everypony was in the dance floor neck to neck with another pony as they danced to a smooth jazz played by a band. The mare made sure she was out of the lime light hoping not to draw attention upon herself. She noticed that aside from her there were others who did not join in on the dance. Old Prune was chatting with an old mare that had a apple custard for a cutiemark, Scarcity was the in the band playing the sax, and Dirty Job was approaching her.

Wait, what? thought Blue. Dirty Job, the farmer earth pony was approaching her. She had known the colt ever since she arrived that town one day. He was working in the fields sowing some apple seeds in to the ground. There were times where she had thought he was intentionally avoiding her.

“Ma’am,” said the pony as they came face to face. “Would you like to dance…with me?” Blue could see that Dirty Job was trying hard not to blush only to realize that she was blushing herself.

She had never realized that Dirty Job had thing for her of all the mares in the town. “Umm…I’d love to but…I’ve got two left hooves?” Blue replied lamely. WHAT THE FUCK!!! OF COURSE YOU HAVE TWO LEFT HOOVES YOU’RE A PONY YOU MORON! Blue’s own brain screamed at her. “Look Dirty Jo…”

“You can call me, Rowe, yah know.” the earth pony interrupted. His large cute pleading eyes were looking hopeful. Those two large cute eyes were also quite effective.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Blue said and found herself suddenly on the dance floor trying to emulate the other ponies dance moves with increasing frustration. Given that the music had a slow rhythm only had furthered her irritation. She was hoping the other ponies would not notice her failing attempts to keep with the beat.

“Take it slow and relax Deep Blue, no one’s competing with you,” Rowe whispered into her ear. “Don’t fight it and don’t force it. Try to feel the rhythm and try counting in eights.”

One. Left hooves over right hooves. Two. Twist both forlegs lifting hind legs. Three. Spin. Four. Hey I’m getting the hang of this…….shiiiii…., Deep Blues thoughts wavered as she stepped on something slipper, losing her balance and crashing in to the mare Old Prune was talking to and snagging the buffet table at the same time. The food spilled on her and the fruit punch bowl flew up to the air only to land squarely downturned on her head.

Riotous laughter and giggles filled the air and all Blue wanted to do was hide her embarrassment underneath the punch bowl. Celestia and Luna, kill me now!

Then there was silence. The crowd on the dance floor slowly parted and the Pegasus, named Flu Shot walked towards the extremely flustered Deep Blue. There was no evidence of mirth in his grim face. Deep Blue knew that was a bad thing and that meant something serious had happened.

Flu Shot had explained to her that a bunch of ruffians had thrown a pony through the clinic of his window and left. That unfortunate pony was now laying unconscious in one of the stretchers. The medical Pegasus had identified massive skin discoloration form the extensive beating the stallion had been given however Flu Shot noted in a matter of fact manner that the pony would survive and he would just be bedridden for a week at the most and limping for a few days.

Deep Blue surveyed the damage in the clinic. Aside from the obviously broken windows there was nothing else was touched. That was a different story for the injured pony though. His right eye was puffy black, bruises formed large spots around making him look like Dalmatian with a severe pigmentation disorder, and the depression on his chest showed that he might be suffering minor fractures. “So how did these ponies look like?” Deep Blue asked.

Flu Shot took some time before he replied sweeping the broken window glass on the floor. “I didn’t really take a good look at them, Blue. They seemed to be wearing leather barding with those ridiculous looking cowbuck hats.”

An assortment of possibilities crossed the mind of Blue. The outfit, Flue Shot, described matches those of the Pecos but Pecos are out of the question. I know they operate around Hoofington only still if they were indeed Pecos then it would raise some serious issues. I don’t think the Vipers would do this as well, because they leave their victims dead all the time. “Flu Shot, I’d like to ask you how come you called me instead of the Sheriff.”

“You mean Old Prune? No offense, Blue but that decrepit old wreck takes his sweet time. Not to say he’s lazy or anything,” Flu Shot snorted and proceeded to tend to the pony’s wounds. “By the way he was carrying this; I found it in the pocket of his barding. Funny despite his beating the thing seems intact and undamaged. I don’t know what it is.” Flu handed the object to Blue.

Upon close inspection, there was nothing that the earth pony could tell about the object except the obvious: it was as wide as her hoof and unlabelled. “I think Prune might now what this is. Oh by they way your bitter ‘coz he confiscated your, Party Time Mint-als?” Deep Blue asked wryly then smiled. “You know he does look after all of us.”
“Shut up!” was all Blue could hear from the Pegasus.

Blue could see all the signs and the symptoms. She just did not want to be so direct about his condition and wanted to give the Pegasus the benefit of the doubt, even if the evidence said otherwise. She knew the Pegasus did not want to lose any patients and had resort to more desperate measures as of lately, however the addiction was no small price to pray for her patients’ survival. The mare just left the Pegasus to his own devices and said nothing else.

Old Prune’s shack was a mish mash of iron roofings, tiles and junks that was held together by nails and quite possible wonderglue. Blue had always wondered whether a rude bang on the door would have let cause the foundation come tumbling down and for the whole house to collapse, but from the way people approached and knocked on Old Prune’s door, that did not seem to be the case. Blue had wondered why the old stallion never thought about inhabiting those abandoned concrete buildings like the other ponies of Calm Rivers did.

“So what did’ja find out?the Prune said as he tried to balance a serving tray with some mugs full of smelly vile brew. He set them on the table and offered a steaming cup to Blue. “How’s Flu Shot by the way?” the stallion added.

“He he… I really do appreciate that you prepared something for me, Prune but no thanks,” Blue said pushing the mug away gently as possible. I think I saw something move inside the mug, Blue observed. “Flu Shot is still mad…about what you did, but I told him it was for his own good, seeing that he is the only one with the medical know-how here. As for our unconscious unfortunate unicorn, he still seems to be out-cold, as for who did that to him. They seemed to favour cowbuck wear: leather barding and gallon hats. I was thinking it might be the Pecos, but this far out that can’t be the case,” Blue said waiting for the Sheriff’s response. She noticed that the sheriff’s feature had slowly hardened when she mentioned the outfits of the perpetrators.

“Well Ah’ll be! You say they were in Cowbuck barding. It ain’t the Pecos alright.“ Prune was slurping his brew. “So what’d you say they did to the victim? Dump him in the clinic after they beat him to a pulp?” Prune said changing the subject.

“Well no, more like threw him through the window,” answered Blue.

“Now that ain’t right. I know who they are, but not what they’re called. They’re bad news. Pretty bad news. Seems like this victim of ours, must have bailed on his payment or hid something from them,” the sheriff’s mood suddenly turned dark.
“Prune do you know what this is?” the earth pony said handing the black box like object to him.

“I thought I’d never see another of these in my lifetime,” the stallion said with excitement then he started fiddling around with the black box like a buck fiddling with a rubick’s cube. “It’s a voice recorder. Yah see unlike them smancy fancy, high class unicorns we can’t use magic, so we can’t access memory orbs, voice recordings like these while are the inferior alternative help us remember things or relay messages, though not as effective or as painful as memory orbs.”

Deep Blue thought he had lost his mind or had finally gone senile, until there was a loud and audible click.

There was nothing but static at first, then a voice came, a deep and smooth voice, Blue could tell it belonged to a stallion, but nothing else. “…I’m glad you took up the offer and I’m glad to see that you’re no fool. Your suspicions are correct there is a…risk…towards this delivery and the rewards I assure you will make up for any of the dangers you will come across. You have already received a part of the down payment of two thousand caps and the rest will be given once the parcel has been safely delivered to me. I want you to know that some ponies will be after you and if the delivery is not made in time then friends of mine will be more than happy to pry the package off your dead body. Yes, you heard me right, my friends will come after you if the delivery is not made in the stipulated time. So I would suggest that you spend the two thousand caps to buy yourself some decent protection and come rushing once you are ready...” then the recording ended in static.

The recording had shed light unto the victim. So the victim was a courier. Who were the ones who attacked him, were those the friends the voice mentioned or an outside party with the same interests but the better question was: where was the parcel? these questions began to cloud Blue’s mind.

“Well now we have a clearly picture of what’s happened,” the sheriff said. “Though I guess there’s little we can do about it, unless of course those bloody thugs come back with gun’s a’blazin,” with that the sheriff got his varmint rifle. “Price Cut is not going to like this one bit.”

When word got out about the courier the prominent town ponies held a meeting in the local bar. There was a schism of opinions. Price Cut, the town merchant voted that the courier be thrown out of Calm Rivers the moment he regained consciousness. On the otherhand the sheriff, offered to alert the NCR outpost to bolster the town defences in case of an attack. On a side note, Whiskey Drop, owner of the establishment wanted to throw both Price Cut and the Sheriff out of the bar if their diverging opinions would turn to an all-out brawl.

“So its settled then, Price Cut said “We wait till another megaspell hits us before NCR troopers arrive? Probably by then the raiders would have killed everyone in this town,” sarcasm was on Price Cut’s strongest points.

“I’ve told yah it ain’t right if we just boot him outside,” Prune said. “There must be a better way,”

“Oh yes, play the good neighbour and lead us to the slaughter, perhaps you really should consider retiring sheriff. Have you considered the possibility that if we were to help him we are going to have a bunch of raiders in our doorstep. I think the better question is who is going to help him stop his pursuers. You and probably her…” Price Cut said pointing her hoof at Deep Blue.

What’s her problem with me or for that manner the NCR, the purple earth pony thought.

“We’ve heard the recording. The thing is: the odds will be against us. We’re talking about raiders here Sheriff not a pack of hungry bloatsprites, chances are they will be more heavily armed than us. Also if ever we were drive them away or kill all of them, I think it is realistic to assume that we will be expecting casualties. Are you really going to stake the lives of these townponies for that courier, Sheriff? What if the other party decides to come as well?” Price Cut had made her point. There were nods of agreement with the ponies there was a lot to lose for one pony’s life.

The sheriff conceded his point. For once Old Prune looked depressed and defeated and there was nothing Deep Blue could do about it. The earth pony knew that the Sheriff had the best interests of any pony in his heart, however these interests always conflicted with the actual reality and harshness of the wasteland. “Once he recovers, I’ll see to it personally that he leaves Calm Rivers.”

“So how are you feeling?” Flu Shot asked the courier.
“I feel like I’ve been hit in the head repeatedly with a sledgehammer,” the unicorn asked trying to get up, only to recoil from the pain. “Doc, do you have med-x by any chance. I gotta get off the bed and back to the road. Before that how long was I out and how much do I owe you?”

“My, oh my, a patient with manners and some decency. It’s I dime a dozen these days. everpony nowadays expects that I do everything for free.” Flu Shot said nonchalantly opening the medical cabinet in search for the pain killer.

“So I was wondering if you could tell me you name and tell me about those people who beat you ‘till death’s doorstep.” Deep Blue asked.

“Woah, I thought the Sheriff here was an old coot,” the unicorn had said eyeing the purple earth pony.

Blue had half a mind to force the courier to stare at a muzzle of a sawed-off. Until the Pegasus injected: “Well this is Deep Blue, the representative of the Sheriff, since he’s too old and decrepit to do any actual work in this town.”

“I heard that, Flu Shot,” said Old Prune as he walked in.

The Pegasus pretended not to listen and continued to find the medication to no avail.

“Um.. So am guessing I owe ya’ll an explanation. I got mugged on the way here and I wouldn’t hand my stuff. So I was outnumbered and beaten and next thing I know I wake up in this clinic,” said the courier trying to stand on his legs only to collapse in the floor in pain. He clearly was in no condition to do anything as of yet.

“I’m out of Med-X,” stated Flu as he sifted further to the contents of his desks. “Next stock will be coming about three days. I wonder if Ditzy charges extra for rush orders,” the medical pony said to no one in particular.

“Frankly I don’t believe you and neither will the Old Prune,” Blue objected and lifted up the recording for the pony to see.

“Oh shit… I guess I have tons of explainin' to do then?” the courier said and grinned sheepishly.

"Good, start with the package." The Sheriff demanded.

Name: Deep Blue (No its not!)

Traits:
Built to destroy- ‘A flamer that burns twice as bright, burns half as long.’ (You have a +3% chance to crit with any kind of weapons, however your weapons deteriorate 15% faster, due to your reckless overuse.) Bloody klutz.

Small Frame-due to your small size you are much more agile (AGL+1), however you’re much easily crippled (+25% limb damange). Beh pipsqueak.

Perks:
Skilled-You are a very skilled but the least experienced pony in the wasteland. (+5 to all skills -10% to experience gain.) Hah...greenhorn.