Pain.

The Wasteland is a patchwork of pain. Whether it be physical pain, like the bullet wounds I routinely suffer from in the wasteland, psychological pain, the taking of another pony’s life tends to result in this, or emotional pain. The small mare clinging to my foreleg was suffering from all of these at once.

She looked up at me, tears in her eyes and a grim smile on her face. “Tell anypony I cried like this, and I will make a special poison just for you,” she said wiping her eyes with a slight laugh, trying to regain her naturally harsh tone. The effect was ruined by hints of her distress that were still present in her voice.

I levitated her onto my back. I didn’t want to risk her falling down the stairs while trying to walk. Razor was still asleep.

“Should we wake her?” I asked.

“Can we wake her?” she remarked.

I gave Razor a few pokes. She didn’t even twitch. Okay then. I gave her a more powerful jab, right in the ribs. She stirred, but remained asleep.

“I don’t think we can,” I answered.

“Hmm.” The pegasus was plotting, I could tell. “Got any water?”

I levitated a canteen of water over the head of the sleeping unicorn and carefully poured out the contents. The water was hardly clean, so I wasn’t wasting anything.

Razor waved a hoof at her face, then cracked an eye. A few more seconds more, then the cold water shocked her awake.

“Hey!” I didn’t let up, upending more water onto her face. “Okay! Okay! I’m awake!” She sputtered as I stopped.

Pinprick laughed from over my shoulder at the partially soaked unicorn. “Wow, you are one tough pony to wake up!”

“Blugh, no screeching voices,” Razor covered her ears. “I am not a morning pony...”

“Sure it isn’t that bottle of whiskey you downed last night?” asked the pegasus as she pointed at the bottle on the ground. I nodded with appropriate seriousness. In the Stable, alcohol was contraband. ‘A waste of resources, and dangerous to those who consume it and those around the offender’ was what the Overmare’s goons always preached. Naturally I managed to occasionally obtain some through the usual methods, although I didn’t remember most of the occasions I drank it.

“Could have at least shared,” said the smaller mare. “I’d pay to see this guy drunk.” She patted my side with a hoof.

I carried Pin down the stairs; Razor stumbled behind us. Needles was waiting at the bottom. His medical supplies had already been sorted and carried out to the cart. He eyed me suspiciously, but didn’t say anything about it.

“I feel strong enough to pull the cart today,” he said. I was thankful for this. I barely managed to pull the cart here, pulling it to Circus would kill me.

“Good, that means I can take a nap,” said the yellow mare. She walked to the cart and flopped bonelessly inside.

“Didn’t we bring you along so that you would protect us?” asked Pinprick. I climbed in, her still atop my shoulders, and we started off.

“Look, I know that he can go hoof to hoof with a steel ranger delta after taking out almost a whole clan of bandits, I know you are still deadly accurate with that syringe pistol thing of yours, and, although he isn’t the brightest, I know that Stable pony here can hold his own against a pack of manticores.” Hey! And when did I ever fight a pack of manticores? “So, letting me sleep off a hangover won’t leave you defenseless.” She did make a good argument for her being lazy.

“Fine,” conceded the small mare from atop my shoulders. “You’re useless with a hangover anyway. Just don’t make us waste water waking you up again.”

Our small caravan continued along for a few more hours. Razor snored softly in the back of the cart next to Pin. I sat opposite them. I have to say, the lone idiot raiders who charged the cart every so often made for good target practice.

Wow, that was an unusually morbid thought for me.

“Hey Pin, why is it that there are all these lone raiders wandering the roads?” I asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence. Silence punctuated by one-pony raider suicide runs.

“Dunno. Likely they are scouts from the group that see our cart and try to take it by themselves, keeping all the loot they can scavenge for themselves,” she said. “Raiders aren’t known for being the smartest bunch of ponies, taking on a group of four ponies when all they have is a pistol or a pool cue.”

“So how much longer till we get to Circus?”

“Probably a few more hours before we can see it, then another hour after that. Believe me, you will know Circus when you see it.” She took a drink from her Sparkle-Cola. The stuff was popular apparently. Then she looked at me. “Well, it will likely be another day or two before we reach it, because you two will likely want us to stop and fight every band of raiders we come across,” she chuckled but with a hint of seriousness. It was true that we had stopped a few times in order to deal with some raiders, but I doubt we fought every group.

“Hey, wasn’t our last detour to save you?” I remarked.

“Hmm, maybe. But still, you two are going to force us to waste our time killing raiders.” She took another drink, then looked me in the eyes. “We are medics, not mercenaries.”

Oh, hello red dots. “Speak of the devils,” I said gesturing in the direction of the red dots. Pinprick followed my pointing. A small camp appeared on the horizon, its inhabitants very hostile if E.F.S. was any indication. The enemies appeared to be a good amount west of us. They likely wouldn’t trouble us if we-Wait.

“Ah, leave them be. I have enough blood on my hooves to last the week,” said the mare as she finished the bottle of carrot-y cola.

“We have to go over there.”

“See, this is what I meant. You are going to have us kill every raider in the wasteland for no-” she began.

“They have prisoners.” Yellow dots were mixed in with the red. Some of them blinked out every so often. “And by the looks of it, they are killing them.”

She stared at me for a second. “Damnit. We are never going to reach Circus at this rate.”

There looked to be about ten raiders in the camp, with an unknown amount inside the building with the prisoners. Pin managed to avoid most of the guards on the outskirts of the camp, though she took two of them out with her syringe pistol. She entered the building unnoticed. A few seconds went by. Then things went bad.

Gunfire sounded out from the camp. One of the yellow dots on E.F.S. blipped out. Needles charged into the camp in a similar manner to how he did in the city. The medical knives popped out of their compartment in his leg, hovering in the air behind the charging buck.

Many of the raiders had become aware that something was amiss, all scrambling to find weapons. A shot echoed from behind me, one of the raider’s heads popped open. Razor was a very good shot.

I ran into the camp, pulling the rifle out of my pack as I did so. Two of the raiders leapt at Needles, a knife in one’s mouth, the other levitated a sledge hammer towards the large buck. The unicorn raider went down as a scalpel embedded in her throat, the other was met with a mechanical hoof to his skull, spilling the contents of his head onto the ground.

Another shot was fired, this time by one of the raiders. The pistol round nicked the throat of the doctor, but nothing severe. A S.A.T.S. guided rifle round dug into the chest of the offender, from the looks of it hitting something vital.

A scream came from the building. I was both glad and terrified that it wasn’t Pin’s voice. Either she was alive and had injured a raider, or she was already dead and the raider had picked a new victim. No brain, can’t think about things like that. Must kill raiders first!

A shotgun wielding raider went down, a headshot courtesy of Razor Petal. There looked to be about half a dozen raiders left, and the number was dropping. Needles took out another one with a devastating kick to their face. I took out one with a rifle shot to the neck. Razor had selected another victim and dispatched of them with her usual accuracy.

Soon, the camp was clear of raiders, except the one that Needles preoccupied himself with smashing into submission. That left only the building and whatever remained there.

I entered the building and was met by the bodies of three raiders, all had a single syringe sticking into their flesh. I wasn’t sure if they were dead or simply paralyzed, but they were out of the way.

The building looked to be some sort of house at some point. The obvious signs of raider occupation were present: graffiti depicting vulgar scenes, bloodstains on many surfaces, mutilated corpses decorating the rooms. There were also signs of the small medic’s presence, namely dead raiders.

I descended a staircase into the basement. The raiders had turned it into a makeshift prison. Inside many of the cells were dead ponies. A recent corpse oozed fresh blood on the ground, likely the victim of the gunshot we had heard earlier.

“What took you so long?” I turned to see the small mare standing over the body of a raider, four syringes were stabbed into him.

“Had an entire camp of raiders to deal with. We heard a gunshot...”

“Yeah, this one decided to take out that poor buck over there. He died before I got here. I took him out before he shot that colt.” She pointed towards the only living prisoner.

He was an earth pony colt, blue coat with a black mane. He didn’t have his cutie mark yet. He had a scowl on his face. He didn’t appear afraid, just irritated. I levitated a lockpick and screw driver out of my pack and began to work on the lock.

“Don’t worry, we are here to help,” I said, trying to reassure him. He looked at me but continued scowling. “I will have you out in just a second.” The lock clicked open.

The colt stepped out of the cell and looked at me. He didn’t say anything, just scowled.

I turned to Pinprick. “Is he okay?” I whispered.

“Don’t know. He didn’t say anything the entire time I was down here. He might be traumatized,” she responded in a hushed tone.

“Simpletons,” I heard a voice whisper.

I turned back to the colt. “Did you say something?” He just scowled in response. “Did you hear that?” I asked the mare.

“Hear what?” Well that answered my question. Now I was hearing voices inside my head. The foal looked at me, his scowl lessened some but was still present.

“You can hear me?” I heard the voice ask.

“Uhm, yes,” I responded.

“Yes to what?” asked the pegasus.

“Not everypony can hear me. She can’t.”

‘Weird,’ I thought.

“Yeah, it is weird.”

‘Wait, you can read minds?’

“Sort of. Don’t tell the pegasus, she will only think you are crazy.” I might be going crazy.

The small mare simply stared at me with a confused expression. “Nevermind, let’s just get out of here,” I said.

The two of us exited the building, the strange colt followed behind us. Outside of the building were Razor and Needles.

Pin trotted over to her brother. “I think you need to examine this colt, I think he might have been traumatized by the raiders.” She leaned in closer to him. “You may want to also examine Wire, I think something is wrong with him,” she whispered. She wasn’t very good at whispering.

Needles walked over to the colt. “Ah!” shouted the colt’s voice in my head. I looked over to him. He was cringing.

‘Are you okay?’ I thought.

“Yes, was just shaken by one of his memories,” replied the voice in my head.

‘You can read memories?’

“Sort of.”

Needles looked over the colt, searching for a physical reason for his inability to speak.

“Well, from what I can tell, he hasn’t sustained any physical injury that would cause this. Maybe he was born with a structural defect in his vocal chords.” Razor and I just stared at him for a second. He sighed. “Maybe he was born mute.”

“I was,” I heard the voice in my head say as the colt gave a nod. The telepathic colt looked at me. “It gets kinda lonely not being able to talk to anypony.”

Pin frowned a little at the scowling colt. Then she looked over at me. “So, what should we do with him? We can’t leave him here...”

“You are going to Circus, just take me with you.”

“I think we need to take him with us,” I said. Pin still frowned some. Razor just smiled a half smile at the colt. Needles just remained stoic at the young pony’s plight. “Taking him to Circus is better than leaving him in the middle of the wasteland, right?” None of them said anything.

“Circus hasn’t gained a reputation for being very friendly.”

‘Then why go there?’ I mentally asked.

“Because where else is a Laughingstock supposed to go?”

The three of us plus the colt, whom I had learned was named Whisper, had piled in the back of the cart. It was beginning to become a bit more crowded.

Whisper spent about half an hour explaining himself. He was one of the Laughingstocks, a high ranking one apparently. He was sent into the wasteland by the leader of the group, Glasgow Smile, to find a trading caravan and search their minds to determine which side they were on, the Iron Hoof or the Laughingstocks. Before he could reach them, he was captured by a group of raiders that knew who he was. They were planning to ransom him to either the Iron Hoof or the Laughingstocks, depending on who would pay more caps. He also explained his power some. When he was younger, he had an encounter with killing joke that made him like this.

“I can’t really control what I hear. It is like there are many voices around me, some are louder than others. Today, I heard a rather disturbing memory, one from the large medic you travel with. It was especially loud.”

‘How bad was it?’

“Sadly, it wasn’t the worst I have experienced. It seems the more horrific the incident, the louder it is. I wasn’t the one being tortured in this, so I am not sure why it was as loud as it was.”

“Hey, you okay?” asked Pinprick, interrupting the thought conversation. “You have been pretty quiet for a while.”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking about some things.” It wasn’t a lie exactly.

“Good cover.” Telepathic sarcasm. Great.

“Hey, look what is finally in view,” said Needles from in front of the cart.

Rising on the horizon was what looked like a tower, decorated with offensively colorful swirls and lines. Though faded by time, beneath the swirls was a bright pink. Surrounding the tower were many smaller buildings, enclosed by walls made of concrete. The entire place was violently cheerful in appearance.

Pin leaned over to me. “Told you you would know it when you saw it.”

“Ugh, but it’s getting late,” said Razor. “They won’t let us in at this hour. And without proper shelter, we’re easy prey for bloodwings.”

“They will let you in.”

“They will let us in,” I relayed to the group.

“And what makes you say that? You’ve never been here before,” said Razor.

“Just trust me, okay? Have my plans ever went wrong?”

“Yes,” the small mare said,

“Oh yeah,” replied Razor.

“Judging from their memories, I would go with yes.”

Needles only laughed as he pulled the cart ahead. Like any of their plans went any better.

“No entrance at this hour,” yelled down one of the unicorn guards from the high wall.

“Great plan,” sneered Pin.

We stood outside Circus in front of a pair of giant metal doors. It was getting dark quickly, soon the bloodwings would be around.

“Hold on a second.”

I heard some shouting from the other side. The guards simply looked confused for a second. Then one by one their horns started to glow. The massive metal doors began to slide open. On the opposite side stood a small group of ponies, two earth ponies, a buck and a mare, and a unicorn. The two earth ponies were armed with rifle battle saddles, the unicorn at the front of the trio had no weapon. He did, however, have a chalkboard tied around his neck.

The trio walked up to us. The unicorn’s horn glowed and a piece of chalk scribbled a message. “Hello, welcome to Circus.” His hoof wiped away the message and the chalk scribbled another one. “Thank you for returning Whisper to us.”

“Whisper?” asked Razor.

“Yes, Whisper the Laughingstock,” read the board.

“Is everypony in the Laughingstocks a mute?” asked Pin sarcastically.

He erased the message on the board, replacing it with another. “I am hardly mute. My voice could kill you.”

“That’s enough, Reverb,” said one of the ponies next to the strange unicorn. “The boss said for them to get plenty of rest at The Drunken Princess.” The what? “Then he wants to meet with them in the morning.”

The chalk scratched on the board again. “Follow us, please.” Our cart followed after them.

Circus was a disturbing place. Everything was decorated with painful colors, strange decorations were everywhere. Of all the decorations, the posters scared me the most. They depicted a pink mare, smiling in an eerie fashion, staring right at you. The words ‘Pinkie Pie is watching you Forever!’ were visible. I decided to avoid looking at the posters whenever possible. Or any of the decorations for that matter.

There were various ponies wandering around the settlement. Some were armed with various weapons, others appeared to just be civilians living in the town. Even the civilians had weapons holstered. A few foals ran through the streets chasing after each other and playing joyfully. As strangely decorated as Circus was, it was likely one of the only places that was safe from raiders.

“So why does your leader want to meet with us?” I asked the trio. None of them answered. I asked the question again, this time mentally. Whisper was silent for a few minutes, but when I repeated, he answered.

“Can’t really say. Smile is a strange pony. Don’t let his cheerful facade fool you. Although he may laugh and grin all the time, I have seen his true thoughts. He is dead inside. That is the curse Killing Joke placed on him.” The colt looked at me with a scowl. “Drove him crazy, too. Nopony really knows why he does what he does,” he added.

‘Then why do you follow him?’ I mentally asked.

“He may be unpredictable, and a little insane, but what he is doing is right. He made the Laughingstocks in order to fund research into finding a cure for Killing Joke. And he is the last pony bold enough to oppose the Iron Hoof.”

I tried prying more information from the young pony, but he remained silent. Razor tried to ask one of the ponies about Whisper, but the buck only snorted in response. All other attempts at communicating met similar failure.

The trio of ponies led us to a medium sized building. Painted on the wall near the door were the words ‘Drunken Princess’ in faded pink. They entered the building and we followed in after them.

I thought the town was strange, but the inside of the tavern was insane. Streamers of almost every color hung from the rafters, while balloons were tied to all of the chairs. The walls were decorated with the same offensive coloration the entire town had, along with the disturbing posters.

There was an olive coated unicorn mare with a darker green mane behind the bar counter. She looked up at the large group that had entered the area. A smile emerged on her face.

“Customers!” she cheered as she bounced in place.

“Calm down, Martini,” said one of the earth ponies that had escorted us here. “These are the ponies that rescued Whisper from those raiders.” How they knew that, I was unsure. Likely one of them could hear the small colt. These words only increased the cheer that the mare had.

“Wow! Thank you for saving the little guy!” she said with enthusiasm. “First round is on the house!”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” said Razor as she trotted over to the counter.

One of the earth ponies that had led us here turned to look at me. “The boss wants to meet with you in the morning. You can sleep in the rooms here. Everything has been taken care of, courtesy of the boss. Enjoy your stay at Circus,” he remarked snidely.

With that, the trio left. Whisper looked at us with his permanent scowl, then he simply turned and followed after the others. Needles left as well, though I assume it was to retrieve his medical supplies from the cart.

“Hey, stable pony! Come get drunk!” shouted Razor having already downed a large part of her bottle.

Razor sat at the counter, drinking quite a bit. Pin was also at the bar, but she was barraging the cheerful bartender with various questions as to the types of drinks she had available. Conversely, Razor seemed to just drink whatever had alcohol in it.

I sat at the bar in between the two. The green mare levitated a small glass full of a clear liquid in front of me. After the past few days, I really needed to just forget my troubles for awhile. I hesitantly downed the contents of the glass. The drink had a fiery bite to it, but eventually it settled and began to warm my stomach. It packed a kick I was unused to.

Razor began laughing at something as she popped open another bottle of her whiskey. Pin sat next to me, drinking from a glass full of dark liquid. There was a half empty bottle of Sparkle-cola sitting on the counter next to her. Another small glass of clear alcohol was placed in front of me.

This was likely one of the dumber decisions I had made since I entered the wasteland, but I drank the second shot. And the third. And I blacked out in between that and the fourth.

Blugh.

Yeah. That was the worst decision I had made in the wasteland. My head was killing me. There was the familiar scent of vomit lingering in the air. And now I was soaking wet as well.
I awoke to somepony pouring cold water on my head.

“You think he’s dead?” I heard a voice ask sarcastically. Blugh, no noises please. I opened my eyes and tried to stand up, only to fall back on my side.

“Blugh,” was all I managed to say.

Standing over me were the two medical ponies. Needles levitated a canteen over my head, still letting splashes of water occasionally spill out. “No, he just has a bad hangover,” said the buck in a calm voice. “Maybe next time you won’t drink so much.”

“I only remember drinking three small glasses,” I responded with a groan.

“That might be what you remember,” said the pegasus. “I was right though, he is hilarious when he is drunk.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well, first you tried to sing one of the songs that was playing over the radio, but you just started shouting. Most of them were things that should never be repeated.” The small mare had a grin on her face as she spoke. “And then you tried to dance, which was funny as hell. Then for some reason you decided to paint yourself various colors.” I what?

I looked at my sides, and sure enough they were decorated with swirls and splotches of random colors. The silvery grey hairs were coated and mixed with various paints. Bits of my coat had been torn out as well.

“I need a mirror,” I declared.

“You really don’t want to see. It is bad,” said Needles.

“Aw, let him see the damage,” said the small pegasus.

I looked around the room I was in. It looked like living quarter of some sort, though there was a lot of graffiti on the walls, some of it drunken scribblings that were very recent. Next to where I lied was a puddle of vomit, likely mine. Adjacent to the room was what appeared to be a small bathroom.

I rose to my hooves, successfully this time, though I was a little wobbly. I stumbled over to the small room. On the wall hung a mirror. It was slightly cracked, but it would function well enough.

The face that stared back at me was a familiar one, but it was assaulted by an assortment of colors. My normally dark grey mane was matted and clumped with paint, the blue streak that it once contained was indistinguishable from the other colors. How drunk had I been?

“Blugh,” I moaned at the image. This was going to be tough to wash out.

“Cheer up, the colors hide the burnt hairs well,” said the small mare with a smile. I just looked at her confused. “Oh, didn’t I tell you that you caught yourself on fire a little?”

“I what? How?”

“It was only a little fire.”

“You almost burned down the building,” Needles deadpanned.

“You tried using that sparky spell to light a cigarette. Didn’t end well. Oh yeah, don’t take up smoking, it is bad for you,” said the small mare. It apparently was if it caught me on fire.

Needles started laughing a little. Pin had been laughing a lot. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little at my reflection. I had done worse when I got drunk back at the Stable. This was one of my milder blackouts.

Wait.

“Where did I get the paint from?” I asked.

“The bartender was more than happy to provide all the ingredients for your recipe for disaster,” said the mare. “I think she likes you, especially with all the drunken flirting you did.” Oh great. “Though, you did hit on everypony in the bar when you were drunk,” she added. Just great.

“Everypony,” Needles echoed. Well, this was embarrassing. Sadly, this still wasn’t the worst blackout I had. I once woke up in a supply closet dangling from one of the shelves by a rope tied to my hind leg with the majority of my mane shaved off. I am still not sure what events led to that.

The two siblings laughed at my expense. “Well, you better try to wash that stuff off, we have to meet with the leader of the Laughingstocks today,” Pin remarked.

I got most of the colors off my hide, but faint traces of it still remained. My mane still had a few strands of random colors in it. Whoever made this paint obviously did not intend for it to be washed out easily.

I sat in the lower level of the tavern. Our rooms, or at least the room I had passed out in, were on the second level, the bar was on the first. The olive green mare was behind the counter, speaking with Pin about something. Every so often she would glance over at me with a smile. This only increased my unease.

Meeting with the leader of a notorious wasteland gang, who is known for being insane. But he wanted to see me, and I am fairly certain that turning down a meeting with such a powerful pony would end worse than meeting him.

I momentarily contemplated ordering a drink to ease my nerve. The idea was quickly shot down as I recalled Pin telling me about some of the events that had occurred while I was drunk. Showing up drunk to meet with the Smile was probably the worse than not showing up. Besides, judging from the way the two mares spoke, I had a feeling Pin neglected to tell me everything.

Needles descended the stairs into the bar, his horn glowing with his white magic as he levitated a passed out unicorn behind him. “I have had patients wake up after being anesthetized easier than her,” he lamented as he carefully dropped the unconscious Razor to the floor.

“What should we do?” I asked.

Pin looked over with a grin. She turned to the mare, I think her name was Martini. “Got any paint left over?” she asked.

Martini started giggling. She levitated out two cylindrical containers from underneath the counter.

“Why do you have so much paint?” I asked.

She smiled at me. “For whenever I want to paint the bar, of course,” she responded. She stared at me for a second. “Or, for when somepony wants to get a little creative,” she added with a giggle.

Pin took one of the buckets by the handle and walked over to the sleeping Razor. She then proceeded to dump the contents onto the side of the once yellow unicorn, turning the affected regions bright pink.

The liquid hitting Razor’s side caused her to stir, eventually she awoke with a shock. “What the hell?” she screeched at the pegasus, the handle of the bucket still in her smiling mouth.

“Didn’t want to waste water this time,” she retorted. “Now get up before I make your mane bright green.”

Razor grumbled something and rose to her hooves. “Gah, I need to wash this off before it dries.” She looked over at me. “Don’t want to end up looking like that idiot.” Hey!

She left for her room with a laugh. Pin resumed her conversation with the bubbly mare behind the counter. Needles just sat at one of the tables.

After a few minutes of waiting, Razor finally returned, her left side still maintained a slight pinkish hue. Pin let out a laugh as she noticed the coloration. Razor ignored the small pegasus and trotted over to the bar and purchased a few bottles of alcohol.

“What?” she asked, catching my questioning stare. “We ain’t going to be in this town forever. I want a few drinks for the road.”

The door opened with a creak. The two earth ponies that had led us here entered the tavern, though the chalkboard unicorn was missing from their group. A familiar colt accompanied them. Whisper stared at me for a second, his face bearing his usual scowl.

“Rough night?” I heard the voice in my head ask sarcastically.

“Alright, Smile wants to meet with you,” declared the brown coated buck with the dusty tan mane. He stopped for a second and looked at the colt, who was staring at him. “Alright,” he mumbled. “Looks like Smile had decided to delay your meeting for a little bit. But Shock Treatment wants us to bring you to him.”

“Shock Treatment? Who’s that?” asked Razor.

“Hell if I know. Some new guy the boss took a shine to, made him one of the higher ups for the Laughingstocks. I haven’t met him, but he wants to meet with you,” the buck replied in a gruff tone.

“And who are you two?” asked Pin.

“Laughingstocks. My name is Stoneface, this is Stopwatch,” he said as he nodded to the red coated mare with the dark pink mane beside him. She didn’t seem to pay attention to him.

“Laughingstocks, eh? What makes you so special?” asked Razor. “All the Laughingstocks have some freaky power, so what do you three do?” She included Whisper in the question.

“Look, we don’t have time to give you an in depth description. But I am made of rocks, Stopwatch experiences the world in slow motion, and Whisper is telepathic,” replied the annoyed Stoneface. “Any more questions to waste our time? No? Good.”

“Let’s just get moving,” said the mare beside him. She spoke in a strange way. Her words seemed to be dragged out, but she said them in a very quick manner.

“Trust me, you want to meet Shock.”

“Alright, fine,” I responded, both to Stopwatch and to Whisper. Who knows, maybe this Shock Treatment pony or Smile might be able to help me locate Volt in this place.

The trio of Laughingstocks left, the four of us followed behind them out onto the street.

Circus was a strange place, even for the wasteland. It was still early in the morning, but ponies were already moving through the streets, traveling from their homes to their businesses. Or they were going to the shops. I would have to visit one of the traders to see if I could get some supplies, maybe even better barding.

In the center of the town was the large tower like building. Home and base of operations for the Laughingstocks.

“Home, sweet home,” remarked the earth colored buck as we approached the large building.

We entered through the large doorway. The doors had been reinforced with sheets of metal. The interior of the main lobby was decorated with various ornaments that the entire town seemed to have in bulk supply. The decorator for the town must have been an insane clown. I grimaced at the realization of about how I right I was.

In the center of the lobby was a metal statue of a pony, rearing on her hind legs. Time had rusted the statue heavily, but a multiple coatings of paint alleviated the rust color. Balloons were attached to the statue, and streamers hung from it. The base of the statue was on a small pedestal that had the words “Pinkie Pie” engraved on it. Below these words was a line of smaller words, “Ministry of Morale”.

A few ponies, all armed with various weapons, walked around in the lobby. Some took notice of our presence, whispering something to those around them. Others were simply content with their current conversations. Most, if not all of them, were likely Laughingstocks.

“Not everypony in the Laughingstocks is a freak. Some are just regular ponies wanting to fight the Iron Hoof, others just want to make a quick cap.” The colt must have heard the various questions that I was unknowingly asking in my head.

Behind the large statue was a metal door. On both sides of the door were staircases that led to the second level of the lobby. Various other doors and hallways were located on the walls of the first and second floors.

“Smile wants to meet with you after you see Shock,” said Stoneface. “Shock is on the second floor, third door on the right side.” The two older Laughingstocks left, Whisper stayed with us though.

We crossed the lobby and ascended the stairs. Many of the doors depicted a symbol. Likely the mark of the pony who inhabited the room. The third door on the right had a symbol as well. A pair of crossed wires.

I lifted my hoof and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” came a voice from the other side.

The inside of the room was unlike the others. Instead of bright and colorful pictures decorating the walls, they were painted grey. There were no balloons, no streamers, no pictures of the disturbing pink mare. The far wall of the room was entirely windows, though many of them were broken open, and others were cracked. A pony sat in the room, his back to us. He stared out the broken window.

He turned to us. His face stared at mine. It was a familiar one. Light grey, silvery even, coat. A dark grey mane with a single blue streak running through it.

The face was my own, minus some of the minor scars I had obtained from my time in the wasteland. It also lacked the stains from a drunken mishap involving paint.

“Hello little brother,” said the pony.

=====================================================================
Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk: Gunslinger- While using a mouth-held or levitated firearm, your chance to hit in S.A.T.S. increases by 25%.
Quest Perk: Lightweight- You get drunk very easy. Unique dialog interactions with certain characters.

(I would like to thank Kkat for writing Fallout Equestria, one of the best stories I have read. Big thanks to Fillyosopher and Melon Hunter for helping with the rewritten chapter.)