Monster.

That’s what they called the members of the Enclave, the shadowy section of the government that bubbled upward when everything went straight to nuclear hell.

Monster.

That’s what I called them - or, tried to call them - as the bastards slit my throat, leaving me to die in that godforsaken hellhole.

Monster.

That’s what they used to call me, when I ever removed the mask. But here? Out in the Mojave?

They don’t see me that way, because we’re all the same. To the Enclave, to each other, to those damnable geckos that keep popping up when you least expect them. We’re all monsters in the glow of the radiation.
Sometimes, radiation has a weird effect on people.

Take me, for example.

I grew up pretty safe from the dangers of the outside world; for the most part, anyway. At least until the Enclave extended their reach to me, of all people. And with nothing else in my life to keep me from serving beneath them, what else was I going to put my knowledge to use for? Building birdhouses in my spare time?

No, I gladly accepted their offer. Could be why I was so surprised when I found out just what they were up to; guess propaganda just doesn’t match up to the truth. It’s simple, obvious things like that, the little things that always went over my head. Genius, my ass.

Monster.

Sometimes, it’s better to be forgotten. To be nameless, to be faceless. Sometimes, it’s better to be no one of importance, especially when the whole world wants you dead.

Monster.

Sometimes, when the world is filling up with heroes desperate to prove their gallantry and fervor by slaying the monsters and demons in the dark, it’s better to be unnoticed.

Out here, in the Mojave?
I’m nobody.
Nobody at all.

“Check!”
“Saddlebags?”
“Check-o!”
“Homework assignment.”
“Check-a-roony-doony!” Sweetie Belle chirruped, eagerly prancing back and forth in front of the door like an antsy Opal after a full meal.

“Oh, very well, then.” Rarity mock-sighed, her horn alighting in a soft glow as the front door swung open, the morning sunlight pouring in. She smiled kindly, if a little sadly. “Have fun at school.”
“Whee!” Sweetie’s high pitched, slightly scratchy cheer of success following her as she bounded swiftly out of Carousel Boutique, throwing a quick wave goodbye to her elder sister.

The enthusiastic unicorn galloped forward as quickly as she could, the soft felt of her schoolbags pushing into her sides as she ran. Rarity had kept her preoccupied long enough, what with all the fussing over her mane and insisting on making breakfast for her first day back at school. It didn’t take long for her to reach their usual meeting place at the crossroads, and Sweetie pushed herself even faster when she saw Scootaloo and Applebloom awaiting her. She grinned manically as she came to a breathy halt, huffing and puffing to catch her breath.

“Ain’t never heard a’ pacin’ yourself, have ya’?” Applebloom teased, cocking an eyebrow.
“Peh-shaw.” Scootaloo interjected flippantly. “Pacing is for slowpokes! Right, Sweetie?”
Sweetie Belle, however, was having difficulty breathing. Something which gave Applebloom a great deal of amusement, of course.

The trio trotted at an even pace toward their ultimate destination, the staple in their lives that rang of many paper-filled days ahead. For Sweetie Belle, school wasn’t so much about spending more time with her friends as it was about learning; and, with an inquisitive mind like her own, it was a welcoming place. That didn't mean she wasn't overjoyed to see her friends, of course. It was going to be a good day.
At least, it would be, without a certain other pony or two.

“What’s the matter? Afraid of being la~ate, Blank Flanks?”
Scootaloo’s head turned so quickly, Sweetie could have sworn she heard it snap.
She wasn’t quite certain how Diamond Tiara had actually managed to convince Silver Spoon to pull the spoiled brat in a small wagon up the dirt road. However, pull, she did, and Silver Spoon’s constant toiling to tug her ‘friend’ was testament to that.

“Aw, come on!” Sweetie Belle moaned in despair, her head drooping. “It’s the first day!” she spat in frustration, glaring at their regular antagonist. “Can’t you behave yourself for one day, Tiara?”
The pale bubblegum-colored pony gasped in offense, a hoof flying up to her mouth. “How dare you! As if I would ever do anything-!”
“Got that right,” Silver Spoon grunted, tugging on the wagon handle.
“What was that?” Diamond Tiara snapped, glaring at her.
“Nothing!” the straining earth pony replied instantly, refocusing her efforts on pulling Tiara.

Sweetie Belle felt a pang of sympathy for the grey earth pony. At least, for a split second, before Diamond Tiara’s attention was directed at her.
“Your saddlebags are ugly.” Tiara said lazily, eyes narrowing at Sweetie. However, true to her status as friend, Applebloom was quick to reply.
“Ugly saddlebags.” Applebloom chuckled, noting the lack of Tiara’s own. She was probably making Silver Spoon carry them, anyway. “You’re slippin’, Tiara. Spend all summer comin’ up with that?”
Diamond Tiara stood angrily in the wagon as it moved, bobbling back and forth. Before she could give her retort, however, Scootaloo quickly took up the mantle.
“Don’t say things like that, Applebloom!” the merengue pegasus said jokingly. “She probably had Silver Spoon do it.”

“How dare you-!” Diamond Tiara glowered, stamping a hoof.
“How dare, how dare – has anypony told you that you’re very repetitive?” Sweetie Belle asked nonchalantly, doing her best to keep her face straight.
Tiara let out a whistle of rage through her teeth. She stamped twice more against the wagon, silently insisting that Silver Spoon work faster.

“See you ‘round, Sombra Junior!” Applebloom called tauntingly after her as they sped down the road, and the scream of frustration that bellowed back was oddly satisfying.
Sweetie Belle giggled, shaking her head. There’d be no end to Diamond Tiara for the entire year; as a matter of fact, they’d probably just worsened their situation. But who cared? So long as they had each other, they were confident that they could handle anything that crossed their paths.

It was this sort of youthful arrogance that Sweetie Belle came to both regret, and long for. The countless nights she spent urgently wishing to return to those innocent days, the numberless hours she spent calling her friend’s names – she’d give anything to go back to that blissful ignorance.

It had been an average day.
Sweetie Belle saw her friends, her first day back at school had gone as expected, and the sun was shining heartily.

“Yeah, sorry.” Scootaloo rubbed the back of her neck guiltily, ruffling her small wings. “I can’t today. I promised R.D that I’d pick up on my reading.”
“Really?” Applebloom asked skeptically, trotting mindfully alongside her feathered friend, her head full of the day’s events. “When was this?”
“Scoots’d deep-fry herself if Rainbow Dash asked her to,” Sweetie grinned, sticking her tongue out.
“Nu-uh!” Scootaloo’s eyebrows gathered together as she scrunched her face. “I was going to get a book on practical aerial tactics, anyhow!”

“Sure ya’ were.” The young farm pony nodded, spotting her elder sister at the crossroad. It didn’t take long for Scootaloo to scurry off, further into Ponyville.
“See you tomorrow, I guess?” Sweetie Belle asked hopefully, nodding to Applejack as they drew closer.
“A’course!” the filly said enthusiastically. “Maybe even later today, after I help Applejack with some o’ the fritters for Big Mac’s birthday party.”
“There’s a party?” Sweetie Belle stopped in her tracks, a little hurt that she hadn’t even known. Or been invited.

Applebloom, however, was too busy catching up with her tired-looking orange sister to answer. They eventually left Sweetie Belle standing dejectedly and alone at the crossroads, and she let out a heavy sigh.
Wish my sister would walk ME home, Sweetie thought a little bitterly, but pushed it from her mind. Rarity had a very busy schedule, and besides; she wasn’t a foal. She could walk herself home.
But, still.

It was a quiet walk. The soft clopping of hooves meeting the dirt road gradually faded away as Sweetie Belle lost herself in her thoughts, saddlebags shifting into a more comfortable position. Then again, they might have been more comfortable if Ms. Cheerilee had avoided giving them homework on the first day back at school.

Perhaps it was because she was so caught up in her thoughts that, at first, she didn’t notice the peculiar glowing blue ring of light.
She noticed that her hooves had changed color first; or at least, they appeared to have done so, in the dim glow of the rotating circle of light, hanging dully in the air above. Her mouth hanged open in surprise and shock, and for a moment, she felt as if her mind had simply stopped processing information.

It was just something that didn’t happen on an average day, after all.

Neither was the sudden appearance of a freakishly tall, steel-clad abomination that dropped out of the ring.
Sweetie Belle barely had time to register the information, let alone scream when it dragged her through the ring of light. Within a couple of seconds, the rippling portal was gone, leaving the dirt path devoid of pony life.
The only thing that indicated anypony had ever been there at all were a single set of tracks, cut off sharply in the middle of the road by a single scorch mark.

Sometimes, I forget how long I’ve been traveling.

It’s easy to get lost in the Mojave, mostly because everything looks pretty much the same. There’s a lot of dirt, and a lot of sand.
A lot of sand.

However, over time, I’ve gradually gotten to the point where I can recognize areas pretty easily by their wildlife, the tracks and markers left previously; you know, living off the fat of the land. It’s really not as difficult as it sounds, so long as you’re not too picky about what or when you eat.
Water, though – water can be a pain in the ass to come by.

I was getting a drink, one way or another.
At first, I was pretty damned thrilled when I found that small pool of water, just as the sun was setting in preparation for another dark night. A nice little pond, with a little vegetation in a sandy outcropping? Yeah, doesn’t happen every day. Regardless, I welcomed the sight with open canteens.

From the taste of it, the water might have even been a little radioactive. But, then again, I don’t really worry much about radiation since the whole ‘Enclave’ thing.
Actually, that’s an outright lie. I worry plenty about the radiation; it’s all a matter of how badly you get irradiated that’s important. Nobody really wants to wind up a mutant. The stuff in the water was pretty weak anyway, and I hadn’t had anything to drink for a couple of days. In the middle of the desert, that’s usually a pretty bad thing.

Only took me one time to figure that one out. The sad part is that it took me a single time at all.
Genius, my ass.

By the time I’d gotten a good drink from the water and set up a small encampment for the night, I was really looking forward to some good shut-eye. An empty little cove, with a (mostly) good water source, no Radscorpions, Radroaches, or even regular roaches for once? It sounded too good to be true.
Turns out, it really was too good to be true. Lady Luck is a fickle bitch.

I was maybe – maybe – five minutes into a good sleep on my worn bedroll. You know, the really comfortable kind of sleep, and you’re just on the edge of a sweet dream full of bacon and non-radioactive substances. I hate being woken up unexpectedly almost as much as I do being caught without my mask; that’s why I never take it off.
Ever.

It bugs me enough when I have to lift up the bottom just to eat or drink something. Not that I’m self-conscious of my looks, or anything. It’s just very, very uncomfortable to take off. Or move. Ever.

Okay, maybe ten minutes. I was pretty out of it. There might have been something in that water after all. The point is, I was comfortable, dammit. I know I really shouldn’t have been, and I’ve had to learn the hard way a couple of times that a deep sleeper is likely to sleep forever. I didn’t really want to get up and investigate the screaming when it started, any more than I did the peculiar blue light basking the little cove in luminescence.

On the other hand, I definitely recognized the sound of clinking ceramic composites and metallic alloys, interspersed with the miniature nuclear reactor core pumping into the MK I power armor. Given my current disposition, it’s a little difficult to forget a sound like that.

I was up faster than you could blink, even though it felt like I was fighting my muscles to move that quickly. Quietly wriggling my way up the sand dune in a belly crawl as the light began to fade, I peered over the outcropping down at one of the weirdest things I have ever seen.
And believe you me, once I got a glimpse in a mirror, I thought I’d seen it all.

It was definitely MK I power armor, all right. The glint of it in the pale starlight, I watched through my slightly dusty goggles as what I swear to God was a portal silently zipped shut behind him. To be honest, I kind of freaked out a little.
Okay, maybe a lot. I freaked out a lot. I panicked.

I saw the power armor, the portal. The first thing that came to my mind were thoughts of being hunted down by the remnants of the Enclave, ensuring that they were doing their ‘job’. Or that they’d finally achieved their goals of long range teleportation, and that the apocalypse was nigh. For me, anyway.

From the swearing and the way the wearer of the metal suit was slapping angrily at a small glowing box, I’d have guessed that I wasn’t too far off with the teleportation idea. Apparently, the tiny blue cube was either shaking violently, or Tin Man here was having an epileptic seizure. He only held it in one gauntleted hand, though, and it took me a long minute to figure out why.

In his other hand, he held a caged prisoner.
And I might not have the best sight through these goggles, but I’m damned sure that little furred thing wasn’t a Radscorpion.

Rad Child – As your radiation sickness increases, you gain cumulative regenerative capabilities.

Author's Notes:

Guess who discovered Fallout?

So, since discovering both Fallout - and, by extent, Fallout: Equestria - I have wasted about two or three HUNDRED hours of my life.
That's usually not a good thing.
However, I don't know if it can technically be called 'wasted' if I'm using what information I have to make something out of it. For the record, if you haven't yet read Fallout: Equestria, then you have my pity, because it is awesome.

Seriously, go give Kkat some love.