Fallout: Equestria — Mercenary Tale
by Sapphie
First published
Iron Sonata was born and raised to be Stable 4's next overmare. Things take a turn for the worse when she finds herself stranded outside that stable.
Iron Sonata is a filly destined to become the next overmare of Stable 4. Raised to understand the inner workings of the underground vault, and to lead her ponies through a peaceful term. Things take a turn for the worst when she finds herself locked out of her stable.
Candy Cane is a young mare working in Stable 4’s security. She’s bound to live a quiet life, all while helping keep peace in the stable. Things take a turn for the worst when her younger cousin and friend disappears from the stable.
Lockpick is a young unicorn travelling with her friends through the wasteland. She doesn't have much, but she does everything she can to help her surrogate family.
Star Seeds is an experienced unicorn stallion, working very hard to build a new Equestria. Things take a turn for the best when he meets a mercenary able to help him accomplish his goals.
This story explores the idea of day-to-day lives of wasteland denizens, some rather young. It aims to tell a dark tale of a filly who's down on her luck, and who learns to live through everything life throws at her.
It's not about a hero going on an epic adventure. Since it's a trope in FoE stories, I might as well mention that there will not be any romance central to the story, though it might get mentioned here and there.
Content warnings: this story contains ample gore and violence, some non-graphic as well as implied rape, and is overall full of terrible ponies making even worse moral decisions. By far the biggest content warning will have to be gore, though, while the rest I mentioned are relatively mild.
You can find this story on Google Docs as well, if you prefer.
Edited by EverfreePony, pre-read and practically co-authored by SnakeEye
Chapter 1 — Caged
Author's Notes:
Google Docs Link should you want it.
Special thanks to my editor, EverfreePony, and my main pre-reader and basically-co-author, SnakeEye
Caged
I stared blankly at my homework. Ponish sucked. Literature sucked. Writing about literature sucked even more. How was it that a bookworm like me hated the theory behind books so much?
I wondered how the other foals managed. Mother always told me they were beneath me—that’s why I couldn’t play with them. As the overstallion’s filly, I was expected to outperform everypony else.
I was smart. I didn’t feel like it, but if Mother said so, then it had to be true. Unlike the other foals in Stable 4, I was destined for greatness. I’d originally had the school teacher come give me lessons, but Mother decided it wasn’t necessary, that I was fine without him.
If I—a smart pony—struggled with my curriculum, then that meant other foals struggled even more. I found comfort in that thought. Maybe even happiness. Whatever it was, it improved my life significantly.
I realised that I needed a break from my homework. Desperately. Knowing both my parents were occupied with their jobs, using my telekinesis, I pushed my desk till it hit the wall under the vent and grabbed my slippers—hey helped muffle the sound of hoofsteps on the thin metal. I floated my office chair up onto the desk as I climbed on it, then unscrewed the vent cover’s loose screws with my magic and pulled the sheet of metal out.
I telekinetically held the office chair in place and used it to climb into the shaft, wincing as I accidentally applied pressure to my bruises. They weren’t that recent, so they didn’t hurt unless I touched them, but they clearly hadn’t healed yet. Once inside, I moved the furniture back into place and slid the metal cover back into the duct, keeping the screws on my side. Somepony could accidentally dislodge it if they hit this wall hard enough, but it was my only option.
I couldn’t get them back in, but I could at least hide them, mostly on the off-chance that I ever got caught outside my parents’ quarters. If I was able to have them to believe I was let out by someone—instead of sneaking out by myself—I’d be able to shift some of the blame off me. And, more importantly, be able to keep my passage into the rest of the stable secret.
Standing at full height in the vent, I started walking towards the intersection, my slippers muffling my already soft steps.
Of course, the plan was to never get caught. But I couldn’t live without a plan B. Too many things could go wrong, in theory. I knew they would never happen, however. My parents took their jobs way too seriously to skip their shifts. On top of that, no one else used the vents to move around, and only maintenance ponies ever opened them.
Stumbling onto one of my mother’s underlings with their heads up in the ducts was actually one of the risks with higher chance of happening. Thankfully, my PipBuck was able to help me minimise that risk. One of the more interesting features of the sleek white device around my right forehoof was its EFS—Eyes Forward Sparkle. It showed all moving things in a certain range as white bars in my vision. The main downside was that I never knew what storey they were on. Another disadvantage was that it also showed cleaning robots.
Without any particular destination in mind, I turned right.
As far as I knew, most ponies didn’t really use their EFS. In a densely populated stable such as 4, it wasn’t very helpful, as the interface was way too cluttered. For me, however, it had become a mandatory survival tool. I’d learned that if a pony was close-by, then their bar would move faster when I walked past it. I had been using this knowledge to check corners where I thought somepony could be. This had saved me from being caught a handful of times. Most of the time, though, it just slowed me down. However, given that I couldn’t allow myself to get caught, being overly cautious was the better option.
I wandered around for half a dozen minutes before one of the white bars on my EFS started moving quicker than all others. Since there was no intersection here, I assumed it was either inside a room, or on a different floor entirely. The latter was much likelier than the former, given that all ponies living in this area worked B-shift—which was now. I approached the grate and carefully peeked over.
To my surprise, I spotted Midnight Sonata through an open door down in the hallway. Focused on her work, she didn’t notice me. She was a dark blue filly a couple of years younger than me. Unlike me, she already had her cutie mark—a grey treble clef surrounded by a crescent moon and stars.
Fillies like her, I remembered hearing Mother say, were what happened when you didn’t get as lucky as me. Her family couldn’t afford education past the most basic knowledge, and so she had to pick up a job around the stable at a young age. In her case, it was cleaning ponies’ quarters.
That was one of the worst paying jobs around the stable, as only ponies who couldn’t afford a cleaning robot hired them.
Given her cutie mark, she likely would have made a good musician, maybe great, even. Too bad that future was crossed off for her now.
For some reason, seeing her never filled me with the same glee I usually felt when I saw somepony worse off than me. For some reason, whenever I saw her, I couldn’t help but imagine myself in her situation. Maybe it was because she shared part of my name. Whatever the cause may be, I didn’t like seeing her. I decided to move along.
But my thoughts wouldn’t leave her topic alone. I wondered how her name had matched so well with the cutie mark she’d ended up getting. Maybe her parents were musicians and knew she would grow up to become one as well. Well, given that she was poor, her parents were likely mediocre musicians at best.
But then, how come I didn’t inherit my parents’ special talents? I’d tried music. Singing, playing a few different instruments, composing… And nothing caught my attention. I just wasn’t music-y. Or artsy. Or anything else that required creativity.
Mother’s special talent, on the other hoof, was something I was much more interested in. Understanding machines and fixing them had felt like a fun puzzle or game. I’d even learned some spells from her books. I knew how to polish pieces using only my magic, and I’d even managed to conjure a pencil from my desk. The spell was normally meant for other tools, like screwdrivers or hammers, but I didn’t have any of those on hoof. It worked like a hyper-specialised teleportation spell. You could only use it on simple tools whose exact location you knew. It also had a fairly unimpressive effective range; more than twenty meters between you and your tool, and it wouldn’t work.
Unfortunately for me, neither the spells nor machines were apparently interesting enough to net me a cutie mark. Mother told me that if by my next birthday I still didn’t have a cutie mark, I would take an aptitude test. Those were usually meant for less wealthy citizens who had to start working early in their lives. Not as early as poor Midnight, but still much earlier than I’d ever have to.
I turned another corner. I’d come here to clear my thoughts, not muddy them further. I needed to see adults struggling. Deciding to watch some maintenance ponies at their work, I made my way to the vertical tunnels near the centre of the stable. On my EFS, I could see that a flurry of white bars were near me, but as I peeked into the hallway below, I couldn’t see anypony or robot. This wasn’t very surprising to me, as I was right above the stable’s atrium
Every time I went to the upper levels, I was grateful for the thoughtfulness of the ponies who’d designed this stable. At most vertical sections, a ladder could be found, likely put there in order to help maintenance ponies get at the electronics inside.
I slowly climbed the ladder, careful as to avoid making any noise. I emerged into the large primary vent. In each direction I found a grate that could expose me if I crossed over it recklessly. Because I was still above the atrium, my EFS was nigh useless, and I had to inspect the corridor below by myself. Still careful, I peeked over the grate to my right and noticed two ponies below. One was approaching the other, and they made eye contact. Deeming it safe, I kept watching.
I spotted one of the stable technicians working on… something in the wall. I recognised him: Crescent Hammer. I knew all the ponies working under Mother. Mostly out of curiosity.
Of course, only a few of them knew me. I was never allowed out of my family’s quarters, after all.
The second buck I didn’t recognise, however. He was a large grey unicorn wearing security barding.
“Hey, Crescent.”
“Hey yourself, Steel Horn. Can’t chat for long today, have lots of work.”
“More than usual?”
“Yeah. The overstallion came to me directly. Was hardcore miffed, claimed I wasn’t working fast enough. I can’t help it though, I work as fast as I can.”
“Fuck dude, that sucks. What even is so pressing?”
“Dunno, he just wants me to install manual overrides in each of the doors, even up here. Shit dude, I shouldn’t be telling you about this. You didn’t hear that from me. Hell, you didn’t hear it at all.”
“I mean, sure thing, bro, but is it that secret?”
“He told me to not tell anypony about it. He was very hush-hush about it, so maybe his wife doesn’t even know, especially since usually she’d be giving me orders.” The buck sighed. “To be honest, I’d much rather have Brass yell at me than him. She’s much gentler and much more reasonable with her demands. If she yells at me, I know it’s my fault.”
“Yeah I getcha, bro. Between the two of us, I feel like she’s also much more competent than him. Almost feel like she shoulda become overmare when they got married,” Steel Horn whispered, looking around cautiously.
“I think she’s just way too dedicated to her job. She likes being head of maintenance too much to step down and take over the more boring bureaucratic stuff.”
“Could be. But I’d wager the megalomaniac just didn’t accept to marry her unless she promised him he could have the post.”
“I kinda miss the old overmare to be honest,” Crescent Hammer admitted.
“Me too, but after her wife died it was only a matter of time before someone else amassed more money than her.”
Not aching to be reminded of my father, I’d left in the middle of their conversation, but had still heard it echoing until I was back on the residential storey. Lately, complaints about my father were more and more common. He’d also been more violent towards me than usual. I’d never bothered figuring out the details. I always avoided thinking or hearing of him.
I continued my walk in a big circle around the stable, hoping to eavesdrop on an interesting conversation, one that didn’t involve my father. No such luck for me, and after a half hour I’d finally grown bored enough to go back to writing my essay.
As I turned into the vent that led to my room however, I was petrified. I could hear mutters and loud thuds coming from my room. I flattened my body against the floor of the duct, hoping to remain unseen.
“Where the fuck is this little cunt?” my father said, apparently trying hard to keep his voice low.
He threw something that I could only assume to be my chair, against a wall. I gulped in fear. Then regretted doing that. Did he hear that?
“How the fuck did she even get out of here?”
I could hear it in his tone. He was seething with rage. Madder than he’d ever been. More furious than I’d ever experienced him.
And worst of all, it was with me. I was used to him venting his frustration with other things on me, but I’d never been the direct cause for his anger. I couldn’t go in there. I wouldn’t come back out alive.
As if reading my mind, he half-muttered, half-screamed, “I’ll fucking kill her.”
It took every last drop of my self-control not to bolt the other way as fast as my legs could carry me. Instead, I slowly pushed myself backwards. I didn’t stand up until every last brain cell was convinced there was no way he could see me.
Even as I turned around, and knew I’d put reasonable distance between him and me, it still took me a considerable amount of effort to not start running.
It was only when I was near the center of the stable that my thinking deviated from pure fear. I needed to stay hidden until father’s next shift. Maybe longer. Until his mood calmed. So potentially forever. No, don’t be a fatalist, Iron.
Which meant I needed some money to buy food and drinks from the vending machines. With some luck, I could steal enough bits for a couple of months from father’s vault. Opening the safe wouldn’t be hard; I knew the combination—535738. However, I would have to return when he wasn’t there. The overstallion worked B-shift, so I would need to wait about twenty hours until he left our quarters.
However, hiding was my priority. From my experiments with my PipBuck, I knew you could track one if you had its tag. I didn’t know whether my father had my tag, but I was not going to bet my life he didn’t. “Always hope for the best, but expect the worst,” Mother’s voice echoed in my mind.
This meant I needed to steal tools from the PipBuck technician’s office. I glanced down at my left foreleg. The white casing looked fragile enough to be broken if bucked by an average adult. Unfortunately for me, I was not an average adult. Truth be told, I was significantly weaker than the average filly.
Even if I did manage to break it, there was no guarantee the tracking functionality would stop working. I needed to get the entire thing off my leg if I wanted to be completely sure I wouldn’t be tracked.
I decided to head towards the PipBuck technician’s quarters. She was one of the few ponies who knew how to read their EFS, and thus had almost noticed me on more than one occasion. Because of this, I had learned her daily routine. She worked C-shift, and stayed in her quarters that entire time. I presumed she slept during A-shift, and so the only time I needed to be careful of her was during B-shift. Although even then, the reclusive mare sometimes stayed in her quarters. In normal time, that was beneficial to me. Now, however, I was hoping she was out doing… whatever it was that she did.
I turned corner after corner until I arrived near my destination. A hoofful of bars appeared on my EFS in the direction of her room. Only one, however, moved fast enough to be inside her room. I cursed my luck, but decided to take the risk, and approached the shaft entering her room. I cursed my luck again, as I spotted her, reading a book at her desk with tools sprawled out all around it. One of those had to be the one I needed.
It would only be a matter of time before she’d move and notice the immobile, close-by bar on her EFS. With any luck, she’d think I was on a different floor. My luck, however, was not worth counting on, especially when dealing with one of the sharper adults in the stable.
This meant I needed to wait at least twelve hours, possibly more, until she went to bed. Plan A was to hope to Celestia I was sneaky enough to rummage through her tools while she was asleep. Plan B was to wait until B-shift and until she left for breakfast. On its own, plan A was infinitely riskier than plan B. However, since plan B involved more waiting, i.e. more time during which I could get caught, I couldn’t determine which had the better odds.
In either case, I needed to hide for half a day and hope that wasn’t enough time to be found, and I was not improving my chances by staying in the proximity of the EFS-goddess. So I turned around and left.
Since I was back to looking in the direction of the atrium, my vision was full of white bars, and the cluttered interface reminded me of something. That something was the stable’s fourth storey. It was deep in maintenance territory, and not a place I usually visited. Part of the reason was that it was simply scary up there. The lights were even darker than the third floor’s, and an ominous hum could be heard throughout it. More relevantly, however, my PipBuck’s EFS always went haywire there. I’d guessed that the stable’s talismans somehow hampered with the spell matrix of my PipBuck.
That was good. That meant that the tracking spell built into it was likely also going to face interference up there. This meant I had more time, and it also meant the risks of plan B were mitigated. Of course, I wasn’t sure I couldn’t be found up there, but the probability seemed low enough to be worth a try.
Tomorrow B-shift, I would first steal a couple hundred bits from my father’s safe—not that he would miss them. Then, I would wait by the technician’s room, identify which bar was hers, safely wait until she went to the atrium, borrow her tools, and live forever ever after on the fourth floor. What could possibly go wrong? No! Bad brain! Cancel that thought right now!
I headed upwards, and spent the rest of B-shift walking around the vents and making mental notes on which rooms I could sleep in in the future. I mostly needed a room with easy vent access. Ideally it needed to be quiet, and be rarely accessed by ponies.
I stumbled upon a couple of locked rooms with a control terminal next to them. Those unfortunately also had a security grate locking off the vents that led inside them. Damn those Stable-Tec ponies and their thoughtfulness.
I suspected my father’s credentials could open any of those rooms, and regretted not having paid attention when I’d seen him type them.
As C-shift came around, I decided I’d spend the night in a vent. The pair of rooms I’d found in the corner of the stable seemed fine and ticked all my boxes, but I couldn’t tell how often a pony would make their way into them. They certainly seemed unused, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, I remembered that I couldn’t unscrew the vent covers without a screwdriver. I was angry at myself for overlooking such a detail, but it was easily fixed, if I stole a small screwdriver from… anywhere maintenance related, really, I could open any shaft entrance from the inside.
I lay down in a corner of the duct, since that’s where I was least likely to get blown away in case the fans started spinning full throttle. Normally, I went to bed around the middle of C-shift. I’d tried going to sleep at the end of B-shift, but when my father came home angry, he’d wake me up and hit me. The worst was when he beat me with his—Nope, nope, nope, nope, not thinking about that now. Buzz off, brain. My tail and hindquarters itched. I shook my head, trying to shake off the thought, then closed my eyes.
Luckily for me, all the excitement from the day seemed to have taken a toll on me, and now that I started to relax, I could feel how tired I really was. Maybe things will be better tomorrow. Maybe I’m not actually in any danger...
I woke up on a hard surface, with a soft voice calling me. I’d fallen out of bed again, hadn’t I? Too sleepy, I didn’t bother getting back into bed.
The voice, however, insisted.
“Iron Sonata,” a mare called softly.
Couldn’t it wait? I was a little filly, still growing. I needed my sleep.
“Come on, wake up,” the voice said again.
I groaned. This simple physical act shook my whole brain awake, and I very suddenly remembered where I was, and why I was there. Oh. Oh. Ponyfeathers.
My eyes shot open, and I saw a lifted ventilation grate, with a mare’s head poking through. All the other parts of my brain woke up at the same moment as I shrieked and got to my hooves.
Bad Idea. I hit my head hard on the ceiling, and saw the mare’s expression quickly turn to shock and concern, while my own vision rapidly filled with black.
I woke up in a small room, on a soft—oh so soft—bed. This time, I had more time to process my surroundings. I could hear a muffled conversation coming from the vent above me. I remembered what had happened earlier. I recalled the mare’s face and realised that I knew her. She’d been a filly just a few months ago. No, longer. It had been almost a year since I’d last seen her, and her name was Candy Cane.
Well, by that I meant she had only recently started working in security. Before that, I’d seen her in the school quarters. She was also one of the few ponies in 4 I’d actually talked to. Her mother was head of security, and she had visited our quarters quite often, sometimes even bringing her daughter along. She and I had played together a lot, but her stays at our quarters had grown increasingly rare with time. I think I missed her…
I turned my attention in front of me, where I found a glass of water that I happily downed in a few gulps, before looking around the room again. I didn’t know personal quarters enough to figure out whose this was based on looks alone—I was always too cautious to look inside a pony’s personal space if I could help it—but I could imagine this was her living space.
I glanced at the door. Behind it were two white bars. Wanting to confirm the proximity, I bobbed my head left to right. This proved to be a mistake, as pain shot through my entire head, culminating at the back of it. I closed my eyes and waited until the pain subsided. With my eyes closed, I noticed I could hear a conversation, presumably held by the two bars behind the door. I decided to listen in and focused.
“So you’re confirming my suspicion; those bruises are not recent, correct?” one voice asked.
“At least half a week old, yes,” the other voice replied. She sounded older and more mature. “I’m also pretty certain your other hunch was also correct, and that she’s been raped, given the position of some of those bruises.”
Great, a word I didn’t know. My brain itched for a dictionary. Unfortunately for me, however, Candy Cane did not own one.
“What. The. Fuck,” the first voice said again. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Beats me. You’re the security mare, I’m just a doctor. But from what you’ve told me, the overstallion doesn’t sound very innocent. Maybe this will be the final blow we needed to exile that useless bastard. If only his wife wasn’t head of maintenance…”
The security mare gasped. “Iodine, don’t you care about the filly at all?”
The older mare chuckled. “Not nearly as much as you, clearly. Look, Candy, there’s more important things than the well-being of one filly. And the overstallion’s incompetence is causing a whole lot of them.”
“You callous bitch… Fine, have it your way. Let’s get rid of the overstallion. But know I’m only doing this for Iron Sonata.”
“While I agree with your enthusiasm, we might need more evidence than simply this. We need the filly’s testimony.”
“You’re right, I’ll talk to her. Then I’ll talk to mom and get this done. Do I have your permission to show others the recording of our conversation?”
“Of course. Anything to get rid of the useless pile of trash that dares call itself our overstallion. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted a male to take that role.”
After a presumably awkward silence, the older mare added, “Ugh nevermind, I’m going back to work.”
A dozen seconds later, the door opened, and in walked Candy Cane, the pinkest and softest pony in the stable. I almost couldn’t believe I’d been scared of her a couple of hours prior. I’d spent enough time with her when I was younger that I still remembered her appearance exactly. And, like me, she was a mare that would help lead the stable in the future.
When I said she was the pinkest, I meant it. Her hide was a lavender pink, matching the pink of her striped mane almost exactly. The other colour in her mane was a pinkish white, very close in shade to my own coat. It was long enough to reach her shoulders, and fluffy enough to conceal her horn most of the time. Even her eyes followed the pattern, as they were a rich shade of pink, riding the boundary to purple. Her cutie mark was a syringe crossed with a candy cane, the latter’s base wrapped by a brown cloth. I still hadn’t asked her why she didn’t work in medical with a mark like that.
Despite her relatively young age, the mare seemed adult in every single way. I could tell she’d adapted to working life very quickly, and even though she exuded the competence of an adult, her eyes were still those of my kind friend.
“Iron, you’re awake,” she said, relief audible in her tone. Candy Cane had been the only pony I’d ever told I disliked being called Sonata, and I was grateful she avoided the name.
“Y-yeah. You scared me earlier.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I was trying so hard to wake you gently and failed miserably.”
“It’s… fine. Head still hurts, though.”
She winced, guilt spreading across her face.
“How did you even find me?” I said, forcefully changing the topic. “Please don’t say PipBuck tag.”
“Nope, your tag was entirely missing. The overstallion talked to me in private during my shift. Said you’d been kidnapped, which sounded like a lie. Since I couldn’t locate your PipBuck, I went to ask Brass Shine about that.” She took a moment to breathe.
“She told me interference could block the signal, and that this likely meant you were in one of the upper floors. She did say to look in the vents, too. She also confirmed to me that you hadn’t been kidnapped, but that I should keep that to myself.” She paused and looked at me solemnly, then continued. Wait, so Mother knew I was sneaking out through the vents? “Then, I combed the fourth floor. Given how much more my PipBuck seemed to hate it there than on the third, I decided it was more likely you’d have chosen that floor.”
“So, now are you gonna drag me back to my father?” I knew the answer to that, but I didn’t like admitting to eavesdropping.
“Maybe. Answer me this first, and please be honest. Who gave you those bruises?” She knew, I knew that she knew. But was I at risk by telling her? What would happen if I denounced him now? Would he get into trouble? Would he just avoid it and then punish me?
Noticing my look—I really needed to get better at hiding my thoughts—Candy added, “I’ll make sure he gets punished. That is, if he’s the one who gave you those bruises.”
I sighed. I knew I was taking a huge risk, but it wasn’t much compared to what he’d do to me if I let this opportunity pass up. “Y-yeah. It was my father… He gave me those bruises…” I muttered, looking at the ground and hoping that somehow being quiet would minimise the risk.
“Thank you, Iron. I’ll make this right, I promise. You just wait here.”
After she left, I waited for several hours, quickly growing bored. She may have been kind, but she didn’t have any books in her quarters. I checked my PipBuck. It was B-shift again. Five hours and fifty-three minutes had gone by since the pink security mare had left me alone, and I needed a walk.
I stared at the vent in her room. The odds of the screws on that being loose were pretty low, but I tried my telekinesis anyway. As I suspected, they stayed tightly put as my magic pushed on them.
I went back to being bored.
But fifteen minutes later, the boredom got the best of me, and I was back at it. This time, I was standing on her desk, looking closely at the screw, and focusing my push on the angles where a screwdriver would normally push.
I’d never attempted something as precise with my telekinesis, but I had time to waste. My headache wasn’t making it easy, but the idea of going back to boredom kept me motivated. I redoubled my focus, and, after a long while, the screw budged. It had taken every last bit of my focus, but I’d managed. The rest of the screw was easy in comparison.
My head was slightly hurting from the prolonged concentration, and I decided to take a break to breathe. It wasn’t like I was in a hurry. I just wanted to escape from the boredom.
Said boredom only needed a few minutes to settle back in, and before I knew it, I was fidgeting another screw with my magic. This time, I had the trick to it, and the screw came out much quicker. Next screw even quicker, and the last wasn’t even a challenge.
I levitated the cover off and climbed inside. I didn’t bother closing the vent behind me, because I was planning on being back before Candy anyway.
Of course, this meant staying around her quarters as I went on my walk. I decided to seek out ponies and maybe catch some gossip or news of any kind. A few minutes later, I found a pair walking down the hallway.
“I’m telling you, I saw them lead him out of the stable.”
“No like, I believe you, but it’s still so shocking. He wasn’t very good at his job, but I didn’t think they’d just… impeach him like that…” I cursed my PipBuck for not having a dictionary.
“I dunno, maybe they’ll give us more reason later. It’s not every day that they just throw out the overmare. Or overstallion, I guess.”
So they had already exiled my father? I needed to check that for myself. Or find Candy Cane and ask her. I determined that the best place to check was my family’s quarters. Even if he was still in the stable, he was likely not in our quarters during B-shift, and maybe I’d find a clue.
I made my way there. If my father was really gone, I had no real reason to stay in the vents. But I didn’t wanna risk it. Besides, I’d likely catch weird looks, since nopony knew me. Right as I arrived, the speakers sounded, and a voice said:
“Everypony with a job, please make your way to the atrium. We will be making an important announcement.”
Didn’t concern me. I ignored it. I checked around the small pseudo-apartment, but nopony was home. That had to be a good sign.
I spotted a small cassette on the living room table. I recognised it as something my PipBuck could read, so I inserted it into the slot at the front of the device. My father’s voice started playing:
“Sonata, you need to do something for me. I’m currently being escorted out of the stable. Brass Shine has also left, and she took the money with her. I’m just worried she didn’t take a gun with her, and I fear we need one to survive out there. You need to sneak into the armoury, and take some gun and ammunition. You might be able to still use my password to get into it. If not, you’ll need to improvise. My username is concerto, and my password is ConcertoTheGreat, the c, t, and g capitals and the rest small. I need to go now, and you need to do this.” His voice sounded stressed, as he spoke quietly but fast.
Mother was out there as well? I didn’t know what to think. The rational part of my brain told me to just let them rot. The less rational part of my brain was yelling at me for even considering that. They were my parents, and I had to help them. Besides, I would get beaten if I didn’t help.
I went into his room and opened his vault, looking for confirmation. Just as he’d said, it was completely empty. This meant Mother had left as well. If I stayed here, I’d be all alone. How was this ‘making this right’?”
I trotted over to my mum’s room, and found a couple of screwdrivers on her desk. I picked up the smallest, as it seemed to be the only one that seemed to be able to fit through the grates covering the vents.
Screwdriver in my mouth, I walked back to my room and climbed back into the vent and went to the ground floor, and headed towards the security quarters. Luckily for me, the area seemed empty. That, however, was where my luck ended. As expected, the only way into the armoury was through the front door, as the vent itself was closed off by a metal grate with no screws attached. I probably could open that grate by removing the screws holding it in place. But to access those, I likely would have to disassemble the whole duct around it.
I needed to get down into the room below me and use the door. This meant I had to do the incredibly tedious task of opening this vent… Or did I? I spotted another duct entrance on the other side of the room, and levitated my screwdriver over, and struggled to insert the cross into the screw. At this distance, any telekinesis needed to be significantly more precise.
I focused my magic on the tool, four meters away. As I concentrated further, my red magic enveloped it entirely, and I applied torque.
My magic fizzled as I lost focus, and the utensil fell a few centimetres until I caught it. I tried again, and failed. The cycle continued for another three attempts, until my spell failed so spectacularly that my head burst in a bout of pain, and the screwdriver fell to the floor. I didn’t know telekinesis could fail like that.
I took a deep breath and made another attempt. I managed to firmly grab the screwdriver and press it into the cross, and started turning. The screw sat calmly, seemingly unaffected by the torque I was exerting on it.
I redoubled my efforts, and my horn flared brightly, illuminating the dim duct shaft in angry crimson. The screw budged, then came out completely, before falling to the ground. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would have been to do this without a screwdriver… I think that screw would have been a pain regardless of how close I am to it.
My head throbbed, but that didn’t stop me. I turned my attention to the screw right above that one. Unlike the first one, this one didn’t pose any challenge whatsoever.
The third screw proved challenging again. My magic fizzled twice, but third time proved to be the charm, as I managed to pull it out with just a single push.
The last screw showed similarly low resistance as the second one.
With the cover loose, I walked around the room, and entered it from the side of the open conduit. I’d already lost enough time opening the cover, so I didn’t move anything to walk out. I exited the vent, and attempted to levitate myself on my way down.
I only managed to slow my fall a little, but enough to be able to land on my four hooves. Still, I’d been dangerously close to falling flat on my face. What was it with me and making poor decisions lately?
I walked to the terminal, clicked it on, and it greeted me with “Stable-Tec terminal. Please issue your stable_4 username and password.” I entered my father’s credentials. The terminal gave me three options. “Unlock door”, “Unlock maintenance vent”, and “Exit”. I selected the first, and heard a hiss from the door. I clicked the second option, and then logged out of the terminal. Once inside the armoury, I used the terminal inside to close the door behind me.
The shelves were full to the brim with guns. Some long, some short, some wide, some thin. They were marvels of mechanical engineering. So many moving parts, so many screws. Guns were seriously cool…
Snapping out of my awe, I decided to pick up a few and look at them closer. I didn’t know which to pick, so instead I opted for two guns. One short, light one—fairly certain it was a “pistol”. And a longer, wider, and much heavier one. I didn’t know what it was. I levitated up the pistol and inspected it in detail. A cylinder placed in the centre of the weapon protruded from both sides. At the back, a spring-loaded mechanism could be found. It seemed to be made to hit the back of the gun, like some sort of hammer. Two small levers were also on the left side, as well as text that read “Model 6520”. One of the lever-switches was set to “Safe”, whatever that meant, and the other didn’t have any labelling. I pressed the trigger, and watched as the little hammer cranked back, and then rapidly snapped into place. I loved this thing.
I put the gun down, and as much as I wanted to inspect the bigger gun, I forced myself to look around the room for ammunition, and found boxes full of bullets on the left shelf. No matter how hard I looked, none of the bullets seemed to fit into the pistol. I got lucky with the bigger gun, and found some cylinders that fit into the opening on the bottom.
The large hole at the bottom of the pistol seemed made to hold… Something bigger. Maybe something that could itself hold bullets? I looked around the room once more, this time not even knowing what I was looking for. I noticed something I recognised as barding, but none of it would fit me, and I wouldn’t be able to carry it out for my father. Next to the armour, I saw a strange arrangement of straps. It seemed made to hold weapons. I put it on and adjusted the straps.
I checked my PipBuck, curious to see if that was enough to change the “Inventory” tab’s content. To my delight, it did. It simply read “Military weapon harness”. That was progress, as it had always otherwise been empty. Glad to finally get it out of my mouth, I put the screwdriver into my left pocket.
Finally, I found some other metal objects, seemingly made to fit into guns. I compared the metal… things with the whole at the bottom of the gun. Finally, I found one that fit into the pistol. I figured it would be a good idea to have two of them.
I rummaged around for bullets that could fit in it, then filled both of them and took twenty spare bullets and placed them in the right pouch on my harness. Full of bullets, the two… things —I really needed to figure out what they were called—were much heavier than originally. I inserted one into the pistol, making the unlabelled lever click, then I strapped the other bullet-holder to my harness.
I checked my PipBuck. Maybe it would somehow give me a better name than “bullet-holder” for them. The screen’s white letters informed me that the pistol was in fact a 10 millimetre pistol, and that I had a “spare magazine” full of 10 millimetre bullets. So that’s what it was. A magazine.
After strapping my 10-mil to my side, I filled my left pouch with twenty cylinders, and strapped the big gun to my back.
I checked my PipBuck again. The big gun was apparently a “shotgun”. Aren’t they all guns that shoot, though? The cylinders were referred to as “buckshot shell, 20 gauge”.
Having decided I had everything I needed, I used the workbench to my right as a stepping stone, knocking a book off it. Then I clumsily struggled to climb up the shelf, and in front of the vent. This close, the screws holding the cover would pose not even the slightest challenge, so I decided to unscrew them using only telekinesis. I was getting good at this.
I found myself in the ventilation system again, and looked down to pick up the cover. Instead, the book I’d knocked down previously caught my attention. ‘The Mechanical Marvels of Firearms’ read the cover, illustrated with one of the weapons. It couldn’t hurt to have resources to understand the things I’d picked up, could it? I put the book into my left pouch, and before I could feel uncomfortable from the weight imbalance, I felt it shift, and noticed my ammunition had moved to my right pouch. Right, probably my PipBuck. I think I remember something about an inventory organising spell. Convenient.
Next, I needed to get to the stable door. Reaching the door would not be an issue, and neither would opening it be. I had the overstallion’s credentials, after all. My issue was getting out of the vent. I didn’t know if the exit room had two vents opposing each other like the security quarters had. And even if it did, there was no guarantee they’d be as close as the vents here. And even if the vents were close-by enough, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pull it off again. The extra distance made it extra difficult.
I considered my options. I could just walk there. Buuuut I was armed from hoof to toe, and I’d likely catch too much attention, and end up stuck. Security was close enough to the exit that making a run for it wouldn’t be impossible. But I still didn’t like my odds.
What if I combined approaches, though? I could bring my guns to a vent near the door, then walk through the halls to the vent, and open it from the outside and levitate out my things.
That sounded like a solid backup plan. I made my way to the exit, following my PipBuck’s map. As I’d feared, there was only one vent, and it was high up the ground. While I suspected I could eventually unlock the vent from inside with enough fiddling, this was much higher up than before, and I was not going to jump down such a height. Maybe a cleaning closet would be a better place to stash my things? I wondered. Making my way through the vents I found one, where I unstrapped my harness, leaving it near the edge of the duct grate, so that nopony on the floor inside the closet would see it.
I walked back to security, and noticed the halls were exceptionally empty. Right, they were all called to the atrium. Maybe I didn’t even need to take this back-and-forth route. I exited the vent in armoury after checking nopony was in the meetings room.
The way back to the exit was still as empty, and the vast majority of white bars were in the direction of the atrium, confirming my theory. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.
I arrived at the cleaning closet, and made sure nopony was around. I climbed the shelves, careful not to lose my balance. I unscrewed the vent cover where I’d previously left my harness, and levitated it out of the duct and down onto the stable floor. I followed suit, almost falling flat on my face. Back on the ground, I untangled the straps and put it on.
My exit from the stable was about as unceremonial as you could get. I unlocked the terminal, opened the door, and stepped out. The door closed behind me with a clang as I walked into the dimly lit cave on the other side.
“Sonata? Is that you?” My father’s voice resounded in the large empty space. A few moments later, he stepped into view, then approached me.
“Thank Celestia, you brought guns. I’ve been out here for an hour, and I haven’t seen a sign of your mother! I think we were tricked, especially since they immediately changed the password after I walked out.” That’s odd, his password worked for me. “At least you’re loyal to me. You wouldn’t betray me like her.” What is he talking about? Didn’t she leave with him? “Give me the guns, now. Also, we don’t have much food so we’re gonna have to ration.”
Still caught up in thought, I didn’t react immediately. “Sonata, you little bitch, listen when I talk to you!” he screamed in a tone I knew too well. Even though he was still a few metres away, I closed my eyes and shrunk away, as if trying to sink into the floor. He was about to hit me. I had to do as he said, maybe then I wouldn’t be hurt as bad.
But wait, do I really? The thought hit me hard. I had a gun. He was no longer the strongest. He couldn’t hit me if I hit him first. And hard.
I opened my eyes and observed as my loaded pistol floated out besides me, enveloped by the angry red glow of my magic. My father’s eyes immediately turned from anger to fear, then he started running at me.
With shockingly little hesitation, I aimed in his general direction and pulled the trigger. And… Nothing. The pistol just clicked harmlessly. The stallion’s face turned to joy as he laughed at my predicament.
How can this be? I’m sure I loaded the bullets right. My mind flashed to the inspection session I’d had in the armoury, and the little pin set to “safe”. Of course, a safety mechanism! My telekinesis clicked it on the other notch. Those things are dangerous, of course they have a safety!
Concerto’s eyes went wide in terror and understanding. He clearly hadn’t been expecting me to understand what a safety switch was. I aimed at his head again, delighting in the horror on his face. Was this what he felt every time he hit me? If so then I could forgive him; this was godly.
I stared at him, enjoying the moment as long as I could. Then, his face showed confusion instead, then slowly started to relax. “You ruined it!” I screamed at him, then pulled the trigger.
The pistol roared delightfully, and I felt the recoil along with the clicking of the internal mechanisms of the gun in my telekinesis. Guns are so cool…
I observed in fascination as red fluid with chunks of his brain flew out behind him, splattering on the cave floor.
For how long had I been repressing those thoughts? I’d been beaten so many times that I’d learned to completely tune out any thought of ever standing up to him.
Just like that, my biggest tormentor was dead. I was immediately filled with regrets. I shouldn’t have killed him right away! Shot his legs or torso, maybe…
I also felt a weird tingling near my hind quarters. Curious, I turned my head, and immediately noticed it. A long-barreled gun like I’d seen in the armoury, but with wings holding it afloat, adorned my hips. I also noticed a few red stars floating around the wings.
I had my cutie mark!
Footnote:
Perk Refreshed – Telekinetic Precision: You’ve got a steady horn on your head for fine manipulation using your telekinesis.
New "Perk" – Sadistic: Some ponies like knitting, others like playing chess. You? You enjoy hurting ponies. Possibly only a subset of ponies, possibly all ponies. Whatever the case, you’re a psycho in the making! You deal slightly increased damage to everypony you like hurting, but how long can you keep your impulses under control?
Chapter 2 — Freedom
Author's Notes:
Google Docs Link, should you want it.
Special thanks to my editor, EverfreePony, and my main pre-reader and basically-co-author, SnakeEye
Freedom
I still couldn’t believe I finally had it. I’d stayed a blank-flank for longer than the vast majority of stable foals, and a part of me had started worrying I’d never get mine. In hindsight, it made perfect sense; I’d never seen a gun prior to today. How would you earn your cutie mark in guns if you hardly knew anything about them? Admittedly, I still didn’t know much, but at least I’d seen one now.
My stomach growled, pulling me out of my amazement. My father had mentioned food, and I definitely needed some right now. I moved over to his lifeless body, telekinetically opened his saddlebags, and took a look inside them.
I found four cans of apples that you could buy from the vending machines, as well as a medium sized canteen with the number 4 engraved and painted on it. From Mother’s books, I knew the canned fruit was produced on the completely sealed off fifth floor. I’d even asked her about it. Not even she knew what exactly was going on upstairs. Advanced magical talismans, probably. According to her, there had never been an incident that required any sort of maintenance there.
I pulled on the tab to open the can, and started picking out the apple slices. They weren’t nearly as good as when a cook prepared them, but they were tasty regardless. They were also hydrating, which made me realise I hadn’t drunk anything either.
Heck, have I really run out of the stable dehydrated and hungry? What is wrong with me? I thought as I finished the last bit of apple. Then I drank the diluted juice the apples had been floating in. Not very delicious, but it was better than wasting it. I tossed the can away.
My bodily needs finally taken care of, I looked around. The cave consisted of a single path which turned right, where my father had come from. That seemed like the way out. I looked behind me at the stable door. Just like inside, there was a terminal on this side, to the right of the door. Something about it struck me as odd, however. The device seemed to be a slightly different model from the ones in the stable.
Curiosity piqued, I walked towards it. The keys and monitor had been covered in a thick layer of dust, until somepony—presumably my father—recently wiped them close-to-clean. I clicked a key, and was met with a familiar prompt. “Stable-Tec terminal. Please issue your official_stable-tec username and password.”
Again, something seemed off. I stared at the green letters on screen for a few seconds before it hit me. It wasn’t asking for a Stable 4 password! This was an external terminal, unrelated to the ones inside. Of course my father’s password hadn’t worked; he probably didn’t even have an account on this terminal!
This thought, however, did not stop me from trying to log in regardless, but with no success. I guess I really am stuck out here, aren’t I? I wondered how likely my survival was. My textbooks had described the wasteland as ‘extremely dangerous and deadly’, but I guessed that didn’t apply to everywhere in the wasteland, right? This area seemed safe, for one. Hay, my PipBuck isn’t even showing any radiation, so I suppose this area really is harmless. Albeit limited in food.
This meant I needed to leave, and waste as little time as possible. Time was food. I walked back towards my father’s corpse and undid the saddlebags he wore. The harness I sported appeared to have been designed specifically to be worn over them. I undid a few straps, and slipped the saddlebags underneath it.
My father had mentioned he hadn’t seen Mother out here. Did he think she was still inside? From what he said, it certainly sounded like it. He probably just missed her, and instead of trying to follow her, he attempted to get back in, and noticed the terminal didn’t accept his credentials, then assumed he’d been tricked.
Given that the only reason it refused his connection was that it’s a different system entirely, this makes it unlikely he was actually tricked. But wait. What if he tricked me? Well, what could he have tricked me about? That he’s out here? That Mother is out here? He sounded like he genuinely believed that. I think the safest assumption is that Mother is in fact out here. Even if she wasn’t, I didn’t have a choice but to leave. For now, as far as I knew, she was out of the stable.
I didn’t know where she had gone but I only had one direction to go, and I hoped I could catch up with her if I moved fast enough. With that note of hope in mind, I started walking. After the turn, the path picked up as a staircase carved into the rock. After a few minutes of stair climbing, I got bored. The cave was mostly unimpressive, and the only thing changing up the scenery were the lamps, some of which had stopped working. Sometimes, several in a row were dark, and the cave went dim for the next few dozen stairs. Nothing happened to take my mind off the ever increasing boredom. I hope there’s going to be less walking in the wasteland. This sucks. If only I had someone to talk to, or even a conversation to listen to.
It took a good fifteen minutes until I finally reached a different area. I spotted a metal fence. Behind it, I could see… the sky? It was vast and grey, like a neverending stable wall. In the books I’d read, it had always been blue. I was surprised I couldn’t see any clouds either. Or maybe… Maybe what I saw were clouds, and they just spanned the entire sky. That was likely the case, and it made me yearn to see the actual sky. How long until the clouds would clear?
I opened the door built into the fence and left the cave, stepping out into the open for the first time of my life. Cold wind hit my face in a surprising but pleasant gust. I took a deep breath and felt like I’d just eaten a mint candy.
As I walked forward, I noticed that my view was occluded by a small hill with a tree on top. As I scaled the hill, my ears perked up, picking up shrill little sounds from around me. Now that I was paying attention, I started noticing other sounds. Gone were the ever-present coil whines and hums from the stable, the whoosh of the wind between the trees taking their place.
After a few moments, I found myself on top of the small hill. From here I could see through the treetops, and observe the whole world. At least that’s how it felt, given that it was utterly overwhelming; just… so… vast. I could see… I didn’t even know how far. Several hundreds of metres, thousands, tens of thousands, maybe even millions! My mind really couldn’t comprehend such distances, and my head started spinning. I tried taking my eyes off the endless vastness, only to look up and be met with something even worse.
The cloud layer I’d seen earlier suddenly seemed tens of orders of magnitude bigger. It stretched in every direction, and was so far up. I felt like I was going to fall. But I knew better. I forced my eyes shut, and repeated to myself: Gravity. Gravity. Gravity. You’re not going to fall up. Unless the Moon is massive enough to attract you. Which it isn’t. Gravity is your friend. You’re not going to fall. I opened my eyes again, but my head still spun from the impossible distances.
To distract myself from the dizzying expanse, I focused on my immediate surroundings. The grass underneath my hooves was a dull yellow, very similar to one of the shades present in my mane, unlike the deep green I’d been promised by books. Not very interesting, but at least it didn’t trigger vertigo.
Most of the trees around me were a bleak, sickly green. The rest, a small minority, were dead and leafless instead. I recognised the live ones as conifers of some kind. Back before the war, they’d kept their colour all year around—was this also why they’d survived so long?
Turning my head around, I was faced with a giant wall of stone. In contrast with what was in front of me, this cliff was mostly rock, with few patches of grass and the occasional tree where the slope allowed it. As my eyes followed the stone wall up, I felt vertiginous again. I forced myself to look away, at the trees surrounding me.
As my other senses slowly acclimated to the outside, I finally noticed it. My EFS was blank. Empty. Barren. Completely devoid of any bars. The interface suddenly seemed so much… cleaner.
Now that I was finally starting to grasp some of the longer distances—albeit not the very long ones—I looked downhill. Through the trees I spotted a pre-war road that had aged quite well. It was surprising that even so many years after the bombs had fallen, the road still existed. Admittedly it was not in a great condition, but it still existed.
I started my way down from the hill and towards the concrete. This side was much steeper than where I’d come from, and after a few steps decided to take the less steep slope to my left.
The ground was covered with mud and dead branches. The feeling of the cool mud on my hooves surprised me. It felt like it looked, viscous and cold. For some reason, however, pressing my hooves into it was extremely fun. I did it again, and again, until I stomped my hoof hard enough to make it splash on my PipBuck screen. I cleaned it with a swipe of my fetlock. I felt childish, playing with something as mundane as mud, but in the moment I didn’t care.
After a few minutes, I finally grew bored enough of the silliness. I used the branches to avoid slipping on the mud, and noticed that some dead shrubs remained in some places. Prior to the war, this forest likely had its ground covered in smaller plants of all sorts. As it stood, however, all that remained were dead plants and mud.
My imagination ran wild and conjured up images of tall, green ferns like the one in the atrium, but in unimaginable quantities. I closed my eyes and let myself marvel at the idea. I blinked my eyes open, and the image was gone, replaced by the sickly trees and brown sludge.
However, anywhere I looked, I saw no sign of Mother. Of course. I guess I’m not leaving any signs behind either, so it makes sense. Instead, I needed to figure out where she’d gone based off nothing but speculation. From here there were two logical paths to follow. I could either go up- or downhill. Given how steep the mountain behind me was, I doubted that the trail could continue much further. I figured she would have a similar line of thought. And even if she didn’t, she’ll have to turn around eventually.
The only case where she wouldn’t eventually end up going downhill was if the road somehow continued past the mountain, and if Mother was aware of that. Satisfied with my reasoning, I set out downhill.
I arrived at a bend in the road. From here, I could see it turn on the other side of an arduous slope. I considered my options. I could either follow the road all the way, or attempt to take a shortcut here. It was steep, and the ground probably slippery. Screw it, time is essential if I wanna catch up with Mother. I stepped off the concrete and onto the muddy slope. I quickly gained momentum, and couldn’t slow myself down. My speed quickly became too much for me to handle, and I tripped on a twig, tumbling straight down. I landed face-first in a puddle of mud next to the concrete.
I spit out the dirt in my mouth, and licked a clean patch of my coat, hoping to get rid of the unpleasant taste and texture. Luckily for me, I’d landed in a rock-free spot, and the impact irritated none of my bruises. I thanked my luck and trotted back onto the road. Gross result or no, the shortcut had saved me a good five minutes of walking. Maybe more, it was hard to tell.
I looked at the next edge. This one was not as steep as the previous, and my confidence grew. If I could conquer the monster I just had, surely this tiny one would pose no threat. As I picked up momentum, I started fearing I’d trip again. This time, however, I knew what to expect. I concentrated on keeping my speed under control and paid extra attention to the ground below me. Any of those branches could be my downfall if my hoof got caught in it. The dash was over in a few excruciatingly long seconds, and I safely reached the flat road and slowed down to a trot.
Breathing heavily, I took a moment to think. The impatient part of my brain kept telling me to keep taking shortcuts. The rational part of my brain knew the risk wasn’t worth it. With those two in a deadlock, a third part of my brain interjected: But it’s fun! And so, I tried once more. Once more, the forest proved no match for my agility, as I managed to not eat dirt again. I was getting good at this! I giggled through my panting.
I felt like a foal half my age, playing outside and not caring if I got dirty. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pang of sadness, and wondered what else I’d missed because of that stupid stable. I also regretted never having asked Mother about going to the running track on the atrium floor. Just the feeling of wind on my face would have brought me so much joy. Then again, she might not have let me go anyway.
I conquered two more slopes, boosting my confidence further. On the third, I started running with no respect for my legs’ ability to keep up. Of course, I tripped, tumbling down until I fell flat on my stomach, branches and rocks digging into my sides, some of them violently hitting my bruises. I yelped from the pain, and my vision blurred with tears. I turned on my back and softly rubbed the worst injuries for a moment. The ache slowly faded away, and a few minutes later I stood up again.
Then I noticed it.
A single red bar appeared on my EFS. What did that mean? The only time I’d seen a bar other than white was when he beat me. Did that mean this pony—robot?—here wanted to hurt me as well? Out here I could assume things that appeared on my EFS were on the same “floor” as me, so I looked in its direction, expecting a—
Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that… thing that floated in the air between trees. From where I was, I could only make out a sort of deformed green ball. Whatever it was, I did not want to get close to it to find out. I levitated out my pistol and took aim. Since the awful creature did not seem interested in me, I took my time to line up my gun’s aim aids with the thing’s terrible shape. I had a hard time figuring out whether my shot was going to hit—mostly because the pistol’s metal obscured my sight of the creature.
I pulled the trigger… and missed. The creature then seemed to notice me, and started moving in my direction. Oh ponyfeathers. I attempted three more shots. By the third, it was close enough that I could tell that it was vaguely bug-like. It was also close enough that my mediocre marksponyship was finally able to hit it. Thankfully, it only took a bullet to make it pop in a shower of grey and green chunks. The unexpected spray of disgusting flesh suddenly made me nauseous.
Very nauseous.
Nauseous enough that I lost my lunch. I coughed and cleared my throat. I took out my canteen and swished the water in my mouth, before spitting it out into the mud. I was wasting water, yes, but I needed to get that aftertaste out of my mouth. I’d take dirt over vomit any day.
It was odd how my father’s brains exploding had amused me while this disgusted me. In my defence, this thing had been just so incredibly vile.
And then I spotted another red bar on my EFS. I turned my head and saw another one of these abominations. I tried aiming at it. Unfortunately, my telekinesis wasn’t steady yet. I needed something to help me aim. Wasn’t there a spell I could learn that would assist me with targeting?
But wait. There is, I thought, remembering the odd spell-program I’d never found a use for back in Stable 4. If I remembered correctly… I searched the side of my PipBuck and found the button labelled ‘SATS’. Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell. I’d talked with Mother about it. She’d called it a marvel of pony spellcasting. Her words rang through my mind. In theory, a regular unicorn would be able to cast this spell, but you would have to learn the entire spell by heart—and that’s not something anypony could do. I snapped out of my reverie before it got me hurt and clicked the button, slipping into SATS for the first time in my life.
The world came to a crawl. A sleek white interface similar to my EFS appeared in my vision. A single white panel with the number five on it floated above the bug, underneath the text ‘Bloatsprite’. Was that what it was called? How the heck did my PipBuck know that? That had to be an impressive spell. I wonder if I can learn it.
My excitement for the spell faded as I quickly realised what the five meant. My likelihood to hit. Had my odds always been this bad? Had I just gotten incredibly lucky with my one shot? Hard to tell, in hindsight, but right now I needed to move closer. I did not like that idea; moving closer seemed like the opposite of a smart move.
Now the question was: How? I had to leave SATS, and there was an appropriate button for that in the interface that had just appeared, but I couldn’t understand how to actually click it. I attempted to focus on it like I’d do with telekinesis… and succeeded!
I slowly moved closer, while letting the bloatsprite approach as well. Once the distance had been halved, the bug shot a spike at me. I did not like the sharp pwang that the projectile made on the concrete road next to me, and I definitely did not want to discover the sound it would make if it hit me. I clicked ‘SATS’ once again.
This time, the spell gave me a thirty-six percent likelihood to hit. I queued one shot. I didn’t like my odds, but I also didn’t like the bug’s projectiles. To my extreme relief, the shot hit, and the sprite exploded in a shower of disgusting goop. Even though I’d been expecting it, seeing it up close was even more disgusting than before, and the nausea hit me. I tried to keep it down, but ended up dry-heaving. I did not like those things. At all. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with them ever again.
Feeling much weaker, I didn’t dare take any more shortcuts—except when the slope was so mild I could just slowly walk across. Eventually, I spotted a wooden hut through the trees, some ways away from the main road, connected by a dirt path. The ambient light had gone down significantly, and I suspected I had three hours before nightfall, at the very most. Given that I was drained and didn’t see another shelter anywhere nearby, I decided to stay the night here.
I followed the dirt path and arrived in front of the hut, and my PipBuck flashed and showed me a name for the place. ‘Arcane Spark’s Chalet’. I did not know what a chalet was, but I was once more impressed by my PipBuck’s ability to find names for things. Curious, I checked the map, and found that I’d come from the south, and that the cave I’d come out of had been labelled ‘Stable-Tec artificial cave’. Stable 4 was right behind it, labelled as expected. My map also called the whole area ‘Foal Mountain’, but didn’t add a specific marker like it had with the previous three locations.
I walked up to the hut—chalet?—and attempted to open the front door. I was glad to find it unlocked. Inside, everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. There were two doors on the opposite side I’d entered from, both closed. On my left, I found a stove—I’d read about those!—a sink, and an armchair, oriented to face the stove. On the right… Oh. That was a pony skeleton, a unicorn to be exact. Part of my brain yelled that that wasn’t the appropriate reaction to an old corpse. I swiftly ignored it.
He or she had been sitting in a chair, head resting on the table, using their hooves as a pillow. In front of it lay two recordings, and an out of commission terminal. The window behind the table had a view rivalling the one up near the stable. However, with the darkness, I couldn’t see nearly as far.
I pushed open one of the doors with my telekinesis. The bathroom had a toilet, a barrel, a mirror, and a yellow box with pink butterflies on it. I couldn’t see myself in the mirror, being too short to have it at eye level. Curious just how terrible I looked, I stood up on my hind legs, using the sink as anchor for my front hooves. Through the mirror, I could see dirt marring the light pink coat on my face, the ugly brown utterly overwhelming the other shade. Having a practically white coat won’t be convenient out here… Staying clean is probably going to be a pain.
A flash of hope crossed my mind, and I opened the tap. To my surprised delight, water actually flowed from the faucet. My PipBuck clicked slightly at the water, but that wasn’t enough of a deterrent for me. I pushed my face under the stream, wincing from the cold, before rubbing my face with a hoof.
I then took a sip of the water and found it had a bitter aftertaste. I took my head out from under the faucet, and swept a wet strand of mint mane out of my face. Scratch that—it had a bitter, slightly painful aftertaste. Suddenly, the water turned to a bright pink, then, after a few moments, went back to its previous, clear colour.
No… it wasn’t perfectly clear. Looking closely, I did notice a pink tint to it. Slight pain from such a tiny concentration? This reeked of trouble. The bright pink stuff might’ve even killed me.
I closed the tap. Canned food would be my main source of hydration, then. Too bad I only had a few cans of that. I’d also avoid washing myself in this water. Unless all the water in the wasteland was like that. That possibility hadn’t crossed my mind. What if everyone was dead out here? What if there was no way I could possibly survive? Everything certainly looks dead, except those awful bugs.
I drew a deep breath and stared into my own red eyes. This was no time for a panic. This pink stuff might not even be harmful. After all, adults drank alcohol all the time, and that hurt much worse than whatever was in this water. Besides, what were the odds that most places in the wasteland had unusable water? I needed more information before drawing any conclusions. However, I still wasn’t going to test my luck drinking this stuff. It was irradiated anyway.
I turned my attention to the yellow box. It had a lock built into it, but as I pulled on the box, I noticed that it hadn’t been locked. Inside, I found a bottle filled with a pink liquid—a different shade than the one that had come out of the tap—two rolls of brown cloth, a bottle labelled ‘disinfectant’, and, finally, an instruction manual.
I put all of those items in my saddlebags to get them to show up on my PipBuck. I found out the pink liquid was a ‘Healing Potion’ and the rolls of cloth ‘Magical Bandages’. I would read the manual when I had time. I turned my attention to the table in the main room and levitated the recordings to the armchair, before sitting down. My stomach grumbled as I was reminded that I had effectively not eaten today.
I pulled out a can of apples, opened it and levitated out a piece of fruit. While I chewed, I inserted the first recording into my PipBuck and heard a pop, then static, and then a mare’s voice.
“Hello, my name is Arcane Spark. I figured I might as well record something on my last day. Mostly to feel less alone. Fuck, if I’m lucky, someone might even listen to this and I’ll be remembered by at least one living pony.” She chuckled drily, and I swallowed the slice.
“Well, looks like I chose the perfect week to go on vacation,” she said without a hint of sarcasm. I levitated another slice. “And I genuinely mean that. We all knew it was coming. Eventually, fuckers were gonna blow us all up. I’m just glad I can spend my last day up here where I got a nice view. I gotta admit, those green fireworks did look pretty from up here. At least they were good for one thing. Makes me glad there was no fog today.” She laughed, and the recording went quiet for a few moments. Apple slice.
“In theory I could go up the mountain and crawl into that stable. But I’d need to walk a few hours through the radioactive snow. Maybe if I’d bothered actually visiting, I could’ve just teleported into it, but at this rate I’d just have to do a bunch of hops, and then walk the rest. And even if I were to somehow survive that, I’d just contaminate the stable. ‘Sides, from what I know of that stable, I wouldn’t wanna live in there anyway. Nah, I’ve accepted my death here. Just hope it won’t be painful.” The recording went quiet.
Apple slice. I levitated the other recording into my PipBuck.
“Update. It’s very fucking painful.” She coughed and hacked violently, and I could hear the fluid in her lungs. “I wish I had my gun, and I don’t think I have the strength to move my desk to open the safe. I shoulda thought of it sooner. Anyway, speaking hurts more than expected, so I’ll be signing off. Goodbye, world.”
The voice gave a dry chuckle, as if laughing at her own joke, before fading out. “Huh, interesting,” I remarked, and went back to eating my apples. I wondered who she’d been; her name didn’t mean anything to me. I wondered what her cutie mark had been. Why was hers the only house around here? What safe had she been talking about? So many questions. I picked out the last slice and drank the rest of the can’s content.
I put the empty can on the kitchen counter, and moved back to the table. With some effort, I managed to levitate it out of the way. Underneath it, I found a latch built into the floor. I flipped it open, and found a combination lock similar to my father’s safe.
I tried a few combinations, hoping to get extraordinarily lucky. It went as expected.
Next, I attempted to figure it out by putting my ear to the metal surface. I’d read about it in some bad novels and had always wondered how effective that method would actually be. In my case, it ended up entirely ineffective, and I finally lost interest.
Now that I had stopped moving for a long while, I started noticing the cold. It wasn’t a feeling I was very familiar with. The temperature inside the stable was highly regulated, after all. Only reason I knew the feeling to begin with was because of the shower. I’d accidentally jumped straight into it a couple of times, without noticing that the water was ice-cold. Not fun.
Given I’d exhausted the interesting options in the room, I turned to the other door. Probably a bedroom, I figured.
My hunch proved correct, and I found a bed, a bedside table, and a bookshelf. To my utter delight, the latter was actually populated. I turned on my PipBuck light and started looking through the shelf. The bottom shelves held books, while the top shelf had magazines, organised with their covers facing forward on three different vertical levels. Most of the magazines seemed more pony-focused, and had oddly dressed mares in weird poses. I couldn’t understand why anypony would wear such a thing, or stand in such uncomfortable ways. To the very right, three magazines stood out by their different cover styles.
The front one was an edition of ‘Spell Matrices Digest’, with a blue unicorn on the cover. The big title read “Exclusive interview with Arcane Spark, inventor of SATS”. So this unicorn kept a magazine of an interview of herself? I can respect that.
The one behind it read ‘Beyond Your Imagination.’, with a front-page title of ‘10 tips and tricks to strengthen your telekinesis!’. The last one was an issue of ‘Filly Fatale’. It looked boring.
I wiped the layer of dust off the bedside table and then levitated the two magazines onto it, wiping the dust off them as well. I then turned my attention to the books. From the titles, most were pre-war novels. A few even seemed interesting. I levitated them onto the table, cleaning them off.
Finally, again on the very right, I found a few more technical books. A dictionary, a botanical encyclopedia, and a volume that read, ‘The Big Book of Arcane Science’. Another book caught my eye: ‘The Egghead’s Guide to Running’. After consideration, I put it back on the shelf. Running wasn’t hard, was it? I’d managed on my first try. Sort of.
A book—two if I counted the firearm book—and two magazines. My saddlebags were going to be heavy, but at least I had books! I checked my PipBuck’s time. B-shift was about to end. So B-shift had been lined up with the outside’s afternoon. Fascinating. The time also explained why, even though my muscles were tired from walking, my head wasn’t sleepy at all yet. This was perfect, as I could finally learn some terminology of firearms. Reading by PipBuck light wasn’t ideal, so I tempted my luck again by flipping the light switch. And, as expected, the ceiling lamp stayed dark.
Over the half hour I’d been here, the light outside had almost entirely faded, and I couldn’t make out anything outside the window, except where my PipBuck light shone. My old fear of getting caught sprung into action, and I turned off the flashlight function. With the light source gone, I went momentarily blind, before my eyes accustomed to the darkness. I telekinetically shoved the bed out from under the window, then emptied the bookshelf, one level at a time, dropping the books onto the mattress, kicking a small cloud of dust out of the quilt.
I would need to get rid of the dust later, but now I had to move the entire bookcase to cover the room’s window. After moving the books back onto the shelf, I levitated the mattress and quilt into the main room, then outside—after a short reflection on the consequences of de-dusting it in here. Out here, it was even colder than inside. I shook the hole-ridden quilt and managed to get most of the dust out. The mattress, thankfully, seemed less dusty, probably because the cover had absorbed most of it.
I moved them back inside, and left them on the floor before closing the door. I spent a few minutes searching for its key, before finding it behind the terminal. I locked the door. It could be a futile attempt; some beast might just knock down the door while I slept, but I didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a house with an unlocked entrance.
Somewhat satisfied with the improved safety, I moved the quilt and mattress back into the bedroom and followed in. I placed them on the bed, and took my equipment off before lying down in an attempt to make myself comfortable. This proved a difficult endeavour, as the dirty bedwear was highly unpleasant and itchy to the touch. Without it, however, I might die of cold. Or maybe not. I didn’t know how much cold I could survive, after all. Still, better safe than sorry.
I levitated the book on firearms to me, and spent the next several hours reading. After a few minutes, I’d gone and grabbed a pencil from the desk in the main room to annotate it. There were many terms I hadn’t ever encountered, but with hard work I was able to understand most of them from cross-comparing the usages. I’d gotten so invested in it that before I’d noticed, I’d fallen asleep.
Footnote:
New Perk: Bookworm — You get one additional skill point for every book and magazine you read, if you’re able to understand it.
Chapter 3 — First Encounter
Author's Notes:
Google Docs Link should you want it.
Special thanks to my editor, EverfreePony, and my main pre-reader and basically-co-author, SnakeEye
First Encounter
I woke up from an incredibly restful night of slumber. It hadn’t been a good one, but it was hard to believe I’d slept so well given where I’d slept. At first I’d been a bit surprised at the location I found myself in, but that quickly passed as I recalled the events of the day before.
My dreams had been filled with images and diagrams of guns. Pistols, submachine guns, shotguns, and rifles. Oh, the rifles were the best part. They were built for precision; the longer barrel allowed the bullets to gain more momentum from the gunpowder’s ignition and the air expansion that followed. If only I’d known about them back in the stable… I definitely would have taken the rifle that had lain in front of me in the armoury, ready to be taken. I couldn’t go back for it now, unless I guessed Arcane Spark’s password to open it back up. But she didn’t sound like a pony whose password I could just guess—not that I was any good at that to begin with.
For a second I contemplated the option of going back to wait in front of the stable in the off-chance that somepony would open the door. In the next second, my mind reminded me of all the reasons I hadn’t done that. If I didn’t get incredibly lucky, I’d run out of water, and then food, and I’d lose all hope of finding—
Suddenly, I something appeared in my peripheral vision. I sat up and turned my head, noticing the red bar on my EFS. It was moving slowly and definitely not directly in my direction, so a part of myself dared hope it wasn’t here for me. I moved my head left to right, and figured out it was at least a couple of meters away. I unholstered my pistol, and then, recalling something from The Mechanical Wonders of Firearms, reattached the gun to my harness. Instead I gripped the shotgun with my magic. That thing was apparently very destructive in close quarters, according to the book. Much more so than a pistol.
I slowly opened the door. Nothing in the red mark’s movements seemed to indicate any reaction to that. Maybe it’s another one of those bloatsprites… Heck, I hope not. I peeked my head around the corner and saw… nothing. Lucky. It was outside the house. I carefully advanced into the room, and the bar moved behind the kitchen wall. I glanced through the window and spotted the most hideous creature I’d ever encountered. Admittedly that didn’t mean much considering I’d only seen ponies and bloatsprites. It was furless, but not green like the bugs. It had sharp and long front teeth, but they weren’t pointy canines like a carnivore’s, just flat and thin. Worse, it noticed me. I quickly figured out it wasn’t very smart, as it tried to jump at me, but ended up thumping against the wall.
I unlocked then opened the front door, and the thing just stayed behind the wall. I tried walking out and immediately stepped on what had to be the single creakiest plank in the entirety of Equestria. Of course, the horrible creature started running the moment it heard me. It turned the corner, and ended up in ideal shotgun range, so I clicked into SATS. The creature was apparently a mole rat. I queued up my single shot at its chest and let the spell work its magic. I watched as a spray of metal left my gun and shredded the creature’s face and body. Thankfully, its blood was red and normal, not like whatever that bug was made of. This gore didn’t gross me as much as the sprite’s, but it didn’t amuse me like my father’s had, either.
Whatever. I closed the door in front of the mole rat's corpse and headed back to the bedroom. I was awake and didn’t have much time to waste. I needed to catch up with Mother, and I was really running low on food.
Hungry, I considered emptying another one of my cans, but decided against it. I didn’t know how long they needed to last. I’d never had to ration my food like this, but I’d read about it. Instead, I used the bathroom, then put on my saddlebags, ready to leave.
As I walked out of the room, I noticed a spark near the table. I moved my head back and spotted a small sphere reflecting the ambient light. Curious, I approached it and picked it up with my telekinesis.
I blinked and suddenly felt tired. I found myself in a room with grey concrete walls. They reminded me of the stable’s, but weren’t similar at all past their colour. These walls were flat, and the concrete didn’t contain any metal at all. Additionally, I could see a window to my left. I tried to move my head to get a better look, but my body didn’t respond. Instead, I turned the other way. What is this place? Is this a dream? Wasn’t I just somewhere completely different?
My eyes looked at the table in front of me and locked on the cup sitting on it. The distinct smell of coffee hit my nostrils. I felt my horn glow, and pink magic enveloped the cup. My magic wasn’t pink, though. It was red. Right?
I floated the cup over to my lips and took a sip. The dark liquid smelled great, and I could feel its heat even before it reached my tongue. When it did, I found out the taste was bitter, and only had disappointing aftertones of the smell. No wonder Mother never drank it, unlike other grown-ups. I frowned and looked towards a small bowl with a spoon sticking out of it. My pink shine enveloped the spoon, lifting it towards the cup and losing some of the sugar along the way. I groaned and sighed, but didn’t do anything about the grains now littering the table. I repeated the motion for two additional spoonfuls of sugar, this time not spilling any.
The more this went on, the more confused I was. I wasn’t doing those actions, was I? I wasn’t in control of my body. Who was, then? What the heck is going on?
My telekinesis stirred the sugar into the black liquid. I dreaded drinking more, but couldn’t stop the motion. With the sugar I’d just added, it was still just as bitter, but at least each swig rewarded me with a sweet aftertaste, almost making it worth drinking. An idea crossed my mind, and I concentrated on pushing the mug away, but it always stayed near my mouth, occasionally floating up to allow me a sip. So I can’t even influence my body in the slightest way.
Despite my best efforts, I finished the cup and moved off the chair I’d been sitting on. When had I even sat down? I walked to the front door and attempted to open it. To my surprise, it didn’t budge. Unbothered, I turned towards a couch and lifted a purse from it and onto my neck. I opened it and saw a wallet, a brush, and a keyring. Content, I closed it again.
Then I felt myself channel magic again. This time it wasn’t simple telekinesis. The amount of power that coursed through my horn was much higher than you would normally commit to levitation. It was also much more elaborate than any of my basic spells. The way I herded energy ever so slightly reminded me of my tool conjuring spell, but only certain parts. The rest felt completely nonsensical. Like a labyrinth of unrelated corridors, some of which eventually merged before splitting again. Then, in an instant, the channel finished, and the world turned hot pink for a split second before returning to duller colours. When my eyes adjusted, I noticed I was out on the street. Since when do I know teleportation‽
I felt a pleasant warmth on my right side. I meant to turn to it, but instead I turned left and started walking. While the buildings were all equally boring shades of black, white, and grey, they were illuminated by the most beautiful and pure light that apparently came from behind me. I really wanted to turn and look at it, but instead, my legs simply carried me forward.
Some ponies walked on the road, pulling carts behind them. Others, like myself, trotted on the sidewalk. It reminded me of when stable ponies would walk around in the corridors in groups, though I was confident there were more individuals here than I’d ever seen at once. Suddenly a pony flew above me, and I lifted my head just in time to see a white pegasus disappear from my vision. When I levelled my gaze, I noticed something odd. I was as tall as the other adults on the crowded avenue.
This walk continued on for several more minutes, giving me time to properly process the situation. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t do anything to influence my actions. Was this some kind of fever dream? Was I just disconnected with the rest of my mind, the one that was walking away from this source of warmth and light? Was I still me? Did anything about my life actually exist? Did Stable 4 still exist? Did I still exist? Was I some sort of spectre lost in the aether?
My line of increasingly panicked thoughts came to a stop as I arrived in front of a building. The sign on its front side read “Stable-Tec R&D”. So at least Stable-Tec exists. I approached it, and the automatic doors opened, inviting me inside. I set my eyes on an empty desk in the middle of the large entrance room; it had a sign labelled “Reception”. I advanced towards it, rang the little bell sitting on it, and ended up waiting for a few long minutes until a voice called out, “Miss Arcane Spark?”
I turned towards it and spotted a white-coated pegasus with a pink and black mane. Was she the same I’d seen outside earlier?
Now, if feeling myself cast magic had been a slightly odd experience, hearing and feeling myself speak was downright bizarre. “Yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?” I blurted out in a voice that I recognised as not my own. I could feel a forced smile on my muzzle.
The other mare let out a short giggle, smiled and replied, “That’s my line.” She pointed to the desk. “I’m the receptionist, I’m just late today. Anyway, I’m supposed to show you around, Miss Arcane Spark.”
“Please, just Spark is fine.” The smile on my face grew genuine, and my mind finally recognised the voice. It belonged to the pony in the recording, but sounded much happier, much lighter. I started putting together the pieces of this puzzle. I was viewing the memory of a long dead mare, somehow. I didn’t know how exactly, but I suspected it was a spell built into that weird orb I’d tried picking up. Some sort of memory-viewing talisman?
During my reflection, the two mares had continued their conversation, and the receptionist walked towards her desk. She dug into a drawer and pulled out a small sign engraved with the text “Be Right Back” onto it, before placing it on the table. She motioned to me—Arcane Spark?—to follow her, and left towards the back of the building. Spark followed her, eyes briefly locking onto her rump before abruptly looking away. I had trouble understanding why. Apparently, adults have always been odd, even before the war.
What I paid attention to was the pair of wings adorning her sides. I’d never seen a pegasus before. I’d read about them, but actually seeing one in person wasn’t the same as a textual description. Well, I suppose I still haven’t seen one in person, since I’m not currently myself.
The two walked around in the building, the pegasus would show Spark a room and tell her about it. There’d been an employee lounge, a meeting room, and many other insignificant places. Whenever the two would make eye contact, I could feel Spark’s heartbeat quicken. Even more so when the alabaster mare smiled.
Was that love? Kind of underwhelming, actually. Finally, the two arrived at a closed door, and the receptionist said, “And this would be your office. Feel free to ask me if you need anything else. Reception is number zero on the phone.”
Spark nodded, then asked, “You haven’t told me your name, miss…”
“Zephyr Aurora, pleasure to meet you,” she replied.
“Likewise,” I heard Spark say.
Then I blinked, and I was back in the hut in the forest. I looked at the black orb on the ground, then approached and rolled it over with my hoof, noticing the label stuck to it. The paper was yellowed and the text faded, so much that I could barely make it out. I squinted and read ‘1st day job + meet Aurora’.
The experience had been confusing and very discomforting. I decided I would never willingly subject myself to it again. The idea of not being able to control my body while staying fully conscious was incredibly scary to me, and I’d come very close to experiencing it with that orb. Still, the memory itself was very interesting, and I felt a strange curiosity. I wanted to learn more about Arcane and how she’d lost her spark.
I glanced over at the skeleton, feeling oddly melancholic. Yesterday it had been easy to dismiss her as just one of the millions of ponies who’d died during the war. Even in the stable it was easy to distance myself from the occasional dead pony every other month. The only death that had somewhat impacted me had been Candy’s father’s. The usually happy mare had stopped smiling as much, and eventually started visiting less and less, before finally stopping altogether.
And yet, somehow, Arcane’s death felt even more personal. Maybe because I’d literally been in her body? I suspected that had to be part of the reason, if not the entirety of it. I didn’t like it one bit. I had more important things to think about than the fate of some Stable-Tec mare.
As much as I wanted to leave right now, I still couldn’t bring myself to willingly forget her. I took her memory orb and placed it into my saddlebags—this time with my mouth and not magic—and started moving.
I was halfway out the front door when I decided to pack the quilt—despite its holes it had kept me warm during the night.
The trip downhill had been uneventful so far. It was the same zig-zaggy road I’d had to follow from the stable down. The only thing that had happened was I’d found and killed another mole rat. I’d also encountered another bloatsprite, but didn’t bother shooting at it. Not worth the bullets or the disgusting way it would die. I ended up reading the first aid manual, levitating it in front of me as I walked.
Eventually, my surroundings became progressively obscured by fog, and soon enough, it was thick enough that I couldn’t see very far. Past the familiar ten metres, everything was replaced with a white wall. I couldn’t help but be reassured by the return of a more familiar scale of distances.
What did not reassure me, however, were the occasional red bars deep in the fog. I could tell they were far away, but I couldn’t tell what they were, and that worried me. I could deal with mole rats and bloatsprites—albeit I really hated the latter—but I couldn’t tell if those bars were just as easy to dispose of.
The first unidentified red bar set the tone for the rest of my walk. Apprehensive, I never loosened my magic grasp on my shotgun, even when there were no markers at all. It was strange; uphill, near Spark’s hut, I’d felt lost and later vulnerable in the open. However, I’d also appreciated how well I could see everything; how well an EFS bar translated to an actual creature, and not just something, somewhere in the stable. Down here, on the other hand? I felt both as claustrophobic as in the stable, while also being as vulnerable as anywhere else outside.
Through some lucky twist or fold in the fabric of the universe nothing attacked me.
Several dreadful hours later, I started hearing gunshots and ponies yelling in the distance, somewhere in front of me. As I continued following the road, four red bars blinked into existence on my EFS. It looked like they were in the forest, and that I likely could just avoid them by continuing on my way.
My mind split in several different thought directions. Part of me was curious and wanted to see what kinds of ponies they were. Their presence meant the outside wasn’t deserted! I wasn’t alone! I wanted to know who lived out here.
After a gunshot, one of them cried out, “Can you stop missing, you horny cunt?” to which another yell replied, “And can you shut the fuck up?” What is it with adults and crude language? Do you guys really need to swear every other sentence?
On the other hoof, this outburst as well as the fact that their bars were an angry red encouraged me to fear for my safety. If I approached them, I’d likely get attacked.
I winced as I realised another part of me wanted them to attack me, just to give me a pretext for blowing holes through their skulls. I wanted to see somepony’s brains fly about like Concerto’s had. I shook my head, as if that would help me chase away those thoughts. I had more important things to set my mind on.
Finally, I decided to avoid them. I didn’t know how well they were armed, and I didn’t like risking my life out of pure curiosity. As I continued down the road, I saw the trees on the side start to thin. I was approaching a clearing, and the bars were also nearby. As my luck would have it, it turned out that I couldn’t easily avoid them.
Given how close one of them was, I decided to slow down my pace and carefully take each of my steps, to prevent my hooves from clacking on the concrete. I hoped the fog was thick enough to conceal me as I walked by.
I froze in place as I realised that sneaking around would be much harder up here. Ponies were definitely used to looking at their PipBucks’ EFS. Why would they not? It was so much more convenient when you didn’t have to worry about verticality. The thought was terrifying. I hated having to rely on my luck, but now it seemed like the only way to get past them would be if they were too busy with… whatever they were doing to notice me.
I slowly moved forward, staring at where the marks were. Emerging into the clearing, I immediately saw the shape of a pony, partly obscured by the fog. I could hardly make out his or her features, but I could tell their gaze wasn’t on me.
I took another look around, and noticed the outline of a building that I suspected was next to the road. Another shot rang out. Curiosity got the best of me, and I approached the pony closest to me, who turned out to be a light brown buck.
I could see he wore black leather barding covered with tens of shiny metal spikes. Sticking out from the sides of his muzzle was a long matte metallic bar with a bend at each end. His left ear was mostly missing, and only the crescent shaped base remained. Had it been blown off by something circular? To my utter surprise, he did not seem to be wearing a PipBuck. Maybe they just weren’t as common up here? Anyway, I turned my attention to the other bars.
In the distance, I could see the silhouette of a pony and some large mutated animal pushing against each other. A few meters away from them, a unicorn was levitating a rifle. She wasn’t aiming properly, she wasn’t even looking down the barrel! The mare was just floating the gun next to her, roughly pointing in the direction of the animal. I didn’t have much experience aiming weapons outside of SATS, but even I knew this! That’s what the iron sights were supposed to help with!
Naturally, the only one to notice when I tripped on a branch was mister Metal Bar, who turned around immediately.
His eyes locked onto me, and he laughed maniacally before running at me. The look on his face told me he wanted to hurt me. He would hurt me. My mind flashed the memory of my father in front of the stable. No. I wouldn’t let him hurt me.
Did he want to hurt me? Yes. Was he dangerous? Quite possibly. Was he smart? Definitely not. Why would you charge a pony who has a shotgun?
I clicked the SATS button and queued my one shot to his face. I considered aiming for his chest, but I couldn’t tell how well the pellets would pierce through the thick leather, and I didn’t have the luxury to experiment. I released the spell and giggled gleefully as the buckshot turned his head into red confetti. A distant part of me screamed this wasn’t a normal reaction to the situation, but because the sound of my shot had alerted the other two, I swiftly ignored it and bolted for the road.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Trying to escape back up the mountain would have been foolish, so instead I ran towards the building. When I arrived at its corner, I heard a gunshot, and one of the red bars winked out. The unicorn had finally somehow hit the animal.
Then, one of them started moving closer and closer, and I could hear a pony running towards the corner of the building. I reloaded a shell into my weapon. I would use SATS to kill her as soon as she turned the corner.
I waited a few seconds until the bar came into the centre of my vision, and clicked the button right as I saw the tip of her gun—this idiot was levitating it way ahead of her, giving me ample time to react. SATS, however, didn’t activate. Instead, the bar under my EFS just flashed red. It needed time to recharge! Of course, how did I not think of that?
Luckily for me, it seemed like the mare hadn’t expected me to wait around the corner—she wasn’t wearing a PipBuck either. I lifted my shotgun a little, and without following my own aiming advice, pulled the trigger. It’s not like the buckshot needed surgical precision.
Because I’d badly aimed my shot, it hadn’t completely confettified her skull—just the right side of her face. This, however, was still enough to make her drop the rifle. I let go of my shotgun and grabbed her rusted gun instead. I swiftly put a bullet straight into her left eye and her marker faded.
Then I noticed the hoofsteps on concrete behind me, as well as the red bar that accompanied them. I immediately realised my mistake and its implications. I spun around to see a pony wielding a shovel, running at full speed towards me. I tried to shoot him with the rifle, but it just harmlessly clicked, no matter how much I pulled the trigger. I’m so screwed…
The stallion moved closer and closer with each second I wasted. Panicking, I fumbled for my pistol. When I finally had it in my telekinetic grasp, he was close enough to slash at me. I threw my head back just in time to narrowly avoid the tip of his weapon. Unfortunately for me, my chest was still well in its trajectory, and a burning pain scorched my nerves as it sliced my skin open. I screamed, vision blurring with tears. I aimed the pistol in front of me and fired blindly until I emptied the magazine. I couldn’t tell how many shots had landed, or how badly I’d injured him, but given that he hadn’t slashed at me again, I dared hope he was at least incapacitated.
I spun around again, turned the corner and hysterically searched my bag for my healing potion. I levitated it out of the bag, only to have it swatted to the concrete ground with a shovel. That was my ticket out of this pain!
The villain poked his head around the corner and, after seeing the look on my face, started laughing. My fury flared, fueled by the blazing agony, and I picked up the shotgun and started beating his ugly head with it. My vision turned red as my magic lit up the fog, and chunks of skull flew all around him, some of them landing in my mane and face. Too frenzied to care, I didn’t notice when his bar disappeared. I just kept beating him until his head was reduced to a crimson pulp.
Regaining my senses, I had an idea. Maybe I could levitate the liquid off the road. I attempted it, and managed to gather several droplets of the pink liquid. In total, I had less than a tenth of the bottle’s contents, but it was better than nothing. Some of it had mixed with the pony’s blood, but I was past caring about that.
I applied it directly to the wound—like the manual had suggested—and sighed as the pain lessened the slightest bit. It seemed to have stopped the bleeding, but the wound still hurt tremendously. I applied a magical bandage as well as I managed—a tricky task, considering that the wound was practically vertical.
I then gathered my things and cringed at my shotgun’s condition. The chamber was jammed open and gunked up with blood and brains, and the trigger had broken off completely. I swapped my pistol’s magazines, but didn’t have the motivation to reload the empty one. I considered searching the unicorn’s body for rifle ammunition, but couldn’t bring myself to kneel down, as that would put stress on my wound.
I needed to find a place to rest, and I hoped the inside of the building was calm enough for me to do so. I walked around it and spotted a railway track that passed in front of it, crossing the road. A single wooden platform followed the track, covered by the building’s roof. I also found a door leading inside.
I trotted towards the door, and as it creaked open, a terrible waft hit my nostrils. The stench made me retch, but thankfully my stomach didn’t contain anything I could actually throw up. As disgusting as it was, it somehow still fell short of how vile exploding bloatsprites were.
Once my initial stupor faded, the reason for the smell became apparent. The room was decorated to the brim with guts, limbs, and pony heads, all in varying levels of rot. While part of me appreciated the aesthetic of the decor, the rest screamed about how unhygienic this was. Again, a tiny voice screeched something was wrong with me.
Benches—some broken, some relatively intact—lined the side of the room. All the windows to the outside had been boarded shut, and the majority of the light came from the open entrance. To my right, two doors led to bathrooms. To my left, a counter had been built into the wall, and I could see into the room through the empty doorframe. Inside, three unbelievably dirty mattresses lay on the wooden floor.
As much as I didn’t want to lie down on something this filthy, the wound on my chest begged me to rest, and the floor wasn’t a better option. I closed the entrance door and turned on my PipBuck lamp, before walking into the employee booth. There, I started telekinetically flipping the mattresses, hoping to determine which had the least disgusting side. My choice was quickly made, as the middle one’s underside had at least one spot that was still vaguely a shade of white.
In the corner closest to the counter, I spotted a device I recognised as a spark generator, with an electric heater hooked up to it, and a few spark batteries lying around. I couldn’t tell which were empty, but something told me they weren’t all usable. On this side of the counter I could see the sickly green glow of a terminal. I would check out the batteries and terminal later; for now I needed to lie down.
I pulled out my quilt and spread it out over the mattress, then made myself as comfortable as my wound allowed me. Oh, how I wished I could escape my senses, to just shut them down. How I wished I could just skip forward in time and start moving and get away from this foul-smelling place.
Then it hit me. When I’d experienced Arcane Spark’s memory, I hadn’t felt the hard wooden floor underneath me. My senses had been completely overridden by the spell, hadn’t they? Well, maybe it could block out the worst? Regardless, it was worth a try. As much as the spell had made me uneasy, it still hadn’t been nearly as bad as I currently felt.
I pulled out the memory talisman from my saddlebags. If my hunch was correct, I was about to escape my senses for some time. I couldn’t tell how long, but I wanted to find out. I took mental note of the starting time.
I focused my magic on the orb and delighted as the pain and stench suddenly disappeared with a blink. Again, the bitter liquid betrayed its smell, and again the strange magic came together as a teleport. Again, I was unable to look at the sun, and again I experienced Spark falling in love with Aurora.
Then I blinked, and everything bad came back. The air hitting my nostrils made me nauseous, and the ache in my chest caused me to wince. I couldn’t tell how much the pain had lessened, if at all, but I felt cold. I moved to the side of the blanket, and pulled the rest of it over myself, in an attempt to escape the grime and the chill.
Slightly less cold, I checked my PipBuck for the time and noted that only half an hour had passed. Thirty-three minutes, to be exact. While that wasn’t amazing, it was still a decent escape from the pain and stench. Though I couldn’t help but wonder if the time spent in the memory would change after repeated use. Good thing repeating the experiment was in my best interest anyway.
I considered dropping into the memory right away, but the idea of waking up to the smell again gave me pause. I turned my head to the left and took a good look at the boards covering the windowsill. Very weak light came through the gaps in the wood, but I needed to turn on my PipBuck lamp to see the details.
On each side of the plank, two nails held it in place. I concentrated on the top left one, pulling and twisting my telekinesis around it. I poured more and more energy into the spell, until my horn glowed brighter than my PipBuck, and the metal slowly came out. I repeated the process with the three remaining ones and caught the board as it fell. The fresh air coming through the gap reminded me just how glad I was to be a unicorn. Magic was just such a useful tool, and I couldn’t imagine my life without it.
I wanted to rip the other boards off the window and open the front door to create a draft, but that would leave me much too vulnerable to wild animals. A big one could probably just rip me to shreds before eating me, and I wouldn’t even notice as it would spread my guts on the floor. I gulped. That had not been a pleasant mental image and had apparently caused the fire in my chest to flare.
I turned to the talisman and let myself get carried away into the memory once more. This time, I paid even closer attention to how her magic formed the teleportation spell. The more I focused, the less it made sense. Before I knew it, it was over, and I was waiting impatiently for the memory to finish. Not because I was in a hurry to return to the world of pain, but because I wanted to take another look at the spell.
As I snapped back to reality, I regretted not keeping track of the starting time. Disappointment filled me as I checked the time, and noticed that thirty-one minutes had passed since I’d last exited the talisman. Even less? How inconvenient…
With the fresh air in the room, waking up hadn’t been nearly as awful as previously, but my torso ached enough to motivate me to use the orb once more. The only downside to this approach was that the memory was starting to be really boring, though that was partly offset by the fact I was very curious about the spell. I desperately wanted to understand it now; it was like a challenging puzzle, and I wanted to solve it.
I repeated the cycle a few more times. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-eight minutes. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-six minutes. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-five minutes. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-three minutes.
Then, finally, the pain in my chest became more bearable than the boredom in the orb. I’d spent three hours in and out of Spark’s memory, and seen it seven times in total, and I was done with it for now.
I practically knew the teleportation spell by heart, but I still didn’t understand it. I had all the pieces, but they simply were not coming together. More proof that I needed a break…
The manual had suggested swapping bandages for severe wounds every two to three hours. While I couldn’t tell how severe my wound was, I could definitely tell I wanted it to heal as quickly as possible. I undid my current bandage, unrolled a fresh one and applied it.
I wanted to continue looking for Mother, but I knew I didn’t have much time until night fell. Especially with the heavy fog, it was starting to be too dark to see. The best option for now seemed to be to stay here until the morning.
The stench didn’t seem nearly as bad as originally—either because I’d gotten used to it, or because the gap had brought in enough fresh air, or maybe both. But even so, if I was going to stay here for the night, I could at least do myself the favour of cleaning up the chunks of flesh littered about in the room. I was pretty certain they were the source of the low air quality. I stood up and equipped my harness, but left my saddlebags next to the mattress. No point carrying around the extra weight.
My chest still throbbing with a dull ache, I walked around the room and formed a ball of guts in my telekinetic grasp. I avoided looking too closely at it, as some of the rotting meat had maggots crawling all over it. How could these ponies have lived like this? It was beyond my comprehension.
Midway through clearing the room, I realised I’d reached my telekinetic carrying capacity, and that I would need to make at least two trips. I left the building, the grotesque ball of guts and worms floating behind me.
I briefly considered dropping it off in the grass or on the tracks, but realised there might be carnivores in the forest, and that I didn’t want to attract them this closely to where I would sleep. Although, they didn’t seem to really notice the smell before, so maybe I’m fine? I thought about it a few more seconds before deciding safe was better than sorry. I then walked over to the forest and dumped the ball there.
When I came back from my second trip, I noticed a severed pony head in a corner where I’d missed it prior. Because it was too heavy to add to my current orb of gore, I had to leave it there for now. My mind didn’t like the idea of walking the distance again, and I came up with the lazy solution. I wonder how far I can throw this thing…
Another idea crossed my mind. I moved my telekinetic focus to only the mane, and moved it around. Like this, I could probably throw it much further than if I held it entirely. I swung it three fourths of a circle and released it, watching its parabolic trajectory.
The head landed on the concrete, and bounced much higher than I had been expecting before landing underneath a tree. The sheer weirdness of the rebound caught me off guard, and I started giggling uncontrollably. In my head, the motion repeated. Something about a pony head bouncing like a sports ball was unfathomably funny to me. My chest burned and I sat down before my legs had a chance to give out from laughter.
Several minutes of nigh-maniacal guffaw later, I started regaining my composure and stood up from the concrete. I walked over to the two corpses and inspected them, my wounded chest complaining every time I knelt. The shovel pony didn’t have anything of value on him. For some reason, he had five bottle caps in his armour’s pocket. Somehow, my thoughts returned to the bouncy head, and I snorted. I shook my head and turned my attention to miss rifle. After rapidly finding the ammunition for the hunting rifle—five measly bullets that my PipBuck categorised as ‘.22LR, subsonic’—I discovered some more bottle caps. What had I stumbled upon, the Ponicidal Bottlecap Collector Club?
I left the barding on both of them. There was no way it would fit me without significant modifications that I simply did not have the tools for. I trotted towards Confetti-Brains, curious to see if he too had a passion for caps. I found that he indeed did. As expected, he didn’t have anything actually useful.
What was surprising, however, was that neither of those three had any money on them. Not one bit between the three of them. There were four possibilities I could think off at the top of my mind. One: They had been very poor. Two: They simply didn’t need money out here. Three: All their money was hidden somewhere in their house. Four: Equestrian Bits were no longer the main currency, and only Stable 4 still used them.
One was unlikely, given that they seemed to regularly kill other ponies. This pointed to two, as that would mean nopony had money. I still needed to double check the building in case of three. Four I could exclude, because they didn’t have anything on them. Wait no, that’s not correct.
They didn’t have much except bottle caps. Could it be…? Could it be that the new currency was simple caps? The idea sounded ridiculous, but part of my brain wanted to believe it. Just in case, I took Confetti’s and the rest of the PBCs’—Ponicidal Bottlecap Collectors—caps. They were light and fit effortlessly into my bags. Besides, I could always throw them away if they turned out to be worthless. I just hope I’m not turning into a hoarder…
When I returned to the Foal MT Train Station—that was what my PipBuck had labelled the building—I left the front door open, hoping to clear out the air further. I would close it and put the board back on the window before going to sleep, and for now I would be content closely watching my EFS while I passed time. My plan for fresher air seemed promising, as I could feel a slight draft across the room. As for now, I needed to figure out how to pass time. It was still too early for bed, and I wanted to let the building air out first.
I spent a quarter of an hour looking through the now much cleaner building. I found two locked first aid kits—one in each of the bathrooms—and some pre-war food in plastic packaging under the benches. I left the food alone—opening those packages would likely stink up the place even more—and hoped to find a key for the first aid kits. I knew it was possible to pick a lock, but I’d never read into it much.
As I returned to my makeshift bedroom, I inspected that as well. I opened the counter’s drawer, and was pleased to find my favourite mint candy in it. While my appetite had been stifled by the putrid smell, I did want to get rid of the dull aftertaste in my mouth, and this would help with that.
I levitated one of the mints into my mouth and let it slowly melt on my tongue. Freshness overtook my mouth and even my breath, overwhelming the fetid air. Without the terrible waft, I felt my mind grow clearer and my senses sharper, although I suspected the sugar also played a large part in it as well, as it always did.
I looked around the room again and noticed a padlock in the corner furthest from the entrance. As I approached it, I noticed it was holding a trapdoor shut. Maybe that’s where they hid their money? But then, how did they open it? I hadn’t found anything resembling a key on any of the three ponies. I decided to take one last look around before accepting they were simply not anywhere here.
I ventured outside once again, to double-check the corpses. Maybe the ponies had put them in some of the tiny pockets? I stripped each of the ponies of their barding, and checked all the little nooks. Still nothing. I decided to take one of the sets of barding. While it wouldn’t fit me without significant modifications, Mother would surely appreciate it. Though I suspected she’d find it tasteless at best—but I knew she understood the importance of safety.
I returned inside, spiked leather barding floating beside me. I opened my saddlebags and stuffed it in the left one, the one without my books. Turning to the right one, I took a look at my literature collection. I could finish The Mechanical Marvels of Firearms, or I could skim through the Big Book of Arcane Science in hopes of finding out more about the teleportation spell, but my brain seemed to be in the mood for some lighter reading. Even the pre-war novels felt like too much of an effort to get into. This left me with both of the magazines. I wasn’t interested in learning about spell matrices, but Beyond Your Imagination appealed to me.
I sat down on the least dirty mattress, wrapped myself in my blanket, and turned on my PipBuck’s flashlight. I started skimming through the thin magazine and ended up skipping the first section entirely. It was dedicated to magical news from all around Equestria, and I doubted almost two century old “news” would be of any use to me.
The second section, however, was dedicated to everyday spells. Most of them I had no intention of learning, but reading about them was interesting nonetheless. To my surprise, I even found my polishing spell on page twenty-four. It made sense, as the spell was an extension of telekinesis—this issue’s primary theme.
I continued reading, casually keeping tabs on my EFS, until I arrived at the article teased on the front page. For some reason I couldn’t quite grasp, somepony had decided to put it at the very end of the magazine. Was it an attempt to make a pony read the entire issue? Can’t a pony just skip to the end anyway? I focused my thoughts back on reading.
As I made my way through the article, I slowly started losing interest. The so-called ‘tips and tricks’ were obvious. “If trying to lift or move a particularly large object, you might find it helpful to instead focus your magic on a smaller part instead of trying to spread it over the entire surface. It takes the mental load off of you.” Yeah. Thank you. It’s not like every single foal with a horn knows this…
Eventually, I managed to push past the self-evident, and the article slowly became interesting. “Keep in mind that moving an object is done with respect to your own position and momentum. In other words, moving a fork at 50km/h is nigh-impossible for most unicorns, but becomes trivially easy if you’re dining in a train’s restaurant wagon.” In hindsight, this made perfect sense, but I just hadn’t ever thought of it before. It was probably related to why self-levitation was so difficult, but the magazine didn’t mention anything about that, so I left the thought in the ‘speculation’ status.
The last paragraph, however, was where the truly interesting bit could be found. “You will likely have noticed that your telekinesis is never perfectly steady. It’s indeed very difficult to produce a perfect levitation field that would allow pure stillness.” Wow, way to overcomplicate a simple sentence. “The astute amongst you might now realise that it is caused in part by the relative nature of telekinesis. In other words, the small imperfections in your grip are caused by your body’s small movements. If you start paying attention to your motion, and cancel out the motions accordingly, you should be able to achieve telekinetic stability that will impress your friends! Of course, it takes practice and feeling, so you won’t be great at it immediately, but keep at it, and it will eventually become second nature.”
I immediately tried on the magazine floating in my telekinesis, but the air currents prevented me from observing any results. Thus, I floated the hunting rifle off my harness and made another attempt. The denser and heavier object seemed much less phased by the wind, and I could see how unsteady my telekinesis really was. I’d always known it wasn’t perfect, but now that I was actively looking for it, it seemed so much worse; I was aware of every single tremble going across the gun. I had a hard time perceiving my own movements. I felt perfectly still, and yet my telekinesis wasn’t. An idea then crossed my mind.
Curious about the effect it would have on my telekinesis, I tried holding my breath. I noticed the shaking diminish remarkably. As I started breathing again, I could really feel and see how it affected my grip on the rifle, and I was able to visualise how to move the gun to cancel out the effects. While it took the entirety of my concentration, the firearm stayed much more steady than before.
I repeated the exercise a few more times, until I finally felt like I roughly had the hang of it. It wasn’t easy and definitely not second nature, but it was something I could practice regularly from now on. I couldn’t think of any practical situation where it would come in handy—it wasn’t like I would be performing surgery—but the skill definitely sounded potentially useful. Plus, learning it would be lots of fun!
My attention returned to the physical world, and I set gaze on the rifle. I’d stared at it for so long that I’d had ample time to discern just how bad of a shape it was in. A layer of rust coated the entire weapon. I’d noticed when placing it in my saddlebags that my PipBuck considered it practically broken—according to the ‘condition’ bar in my inventory tab—but until now I didn’t realise how terribly the gun had been maintained. So if it was practically broken, taking it apart couldn’t break it more, could it? I felt a sudden itch to do just that…
Focusing my magic, I undid one screw after the other, trying to actively remember where they belonged. I could have just used my screwdriver, but I liked the idea of practicing one of my new skills. I stripped the rifle to its smallest components, setting them down on the floor. I was almost done when I suddenly shuddered. I’d been so engrossed in my task that I hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten. Even with the quilt on my back, the draft was frigid. I suppose I might as well get this place ready for sleep now, even if I’m not going to sleep quite yet.
I stood up and walked to the door in order to close it. As an additional precaution, I slowly levitated one of the heavy benches in front of it, hoping to create a passable—or I suppose impassable—blockade. Next, I attempted to nail the board back on the window. My magic was able to push the nails halfway back into the holes it had ripped them out of, but any more required more force than I could muster. Apparently I needed a shock, more like a hammer, to truly beat the rusted steel back into place. Luckily for me, I had a now-useless hunk of metal that had previously been a fine shotgun at my disposal. It proved a worthy replacement for a hammer.
Currents of cold air taken care of, I made myself comfortable again and turned my focus back to the dismantled gun in front of me. Before attempting to reassemble it, I could try to polish each of the parts with my magic. Maybe that could help make it run more smoothly. Certainly some of those mechanical joints would grind a bit less if smoothed. So, one by one, I polished the pieces. Thankfully, the spell worked quickly, only needing a minute for the smaller pieces, and two–three for the larger ones, like the barrel or handle.
Now it’s time for the hard part, I thought, levitating all the puzzle pieces in front of myself. But as I started putting them together, I noticed that for some pieces I simply remembered where they belonged, and the rest was easy to figure out. After less than twenty minutes, I had an assembled rifle in front of me, and it looked much better than previously, though it probably only performed marginally better.
Content with the job I’d done, I holstered it to my harness, and noticed that even my PipBuck indicated its condition had improved. As I scrolled through the rest of my inventory, I noticed the two cans of apples I still had. Being reminded that fresh food existed suddenly made me very hungry. I’d gotten used to the feeling of an empty stomach over the course of the day, to the point that, in this appetite-reducing building, the thought of eating something substantial didn’t cross my mind.
I levitated out one of the two and started eating. When I was done, I started feeling the familiar feeling of a sugar crash, as my thinking slowed to a sleepy crawl and eyes occasionally blurred. Even though it was still early C-shift, I decided to end my day now and set an alarm for mid-A-shift. I shortly regretted not being able to brush my teeth, but as I lay down, my worries melted away, and I drifted off into blissful slumber. Or so I thought.
A white bar appeared on my EFS. Panicked, I opened my eyes. Calm down, Iron. The bar is white, they’re not going to attack you on sight. Besides, they might not even check this place. And if they do, you can just kill them. Killing is easy. Especially with—Right. My shotgun is broken. I took a deep breath and unholstered my pistol. While I couldn’t trust the rifle, the muzzlegun had proven its ability already. Besides, I had a lot of 10mm bullets and only five .22LR ones anyway.
Wait a second… It looked as if the bar was walking down from Foal Mountain. This could be Mother. My panic receded a little as I realised this fact, but I couldn’t know for sure, and given how eager the ponies here had been to attack me, I didn’t want to rely on luck. Although, then again, the bar was white, not red.
The question now became: How would I figure out this pony’s identity without revealing myself? I needed to get outside, but I worried the door’s creak would alert them. I moved my head to gauge the distance, and figured this was the best time to try and sneak out. That teleportation spell would have come in pretty handy right now. Though I suppose even that makes a little bit of noise…
I levitated the bench out of the way, and opened the door, wincing at the horrendously loud noise. Luckily for me, the bar didn’t seem to react. Maybe they simply didn’t hear it, who knew. I shuddered as an icy gust blew across my face. I briefly contemplated returning to bed, but managed to convince myself not to. It wasn’t like I’d say out here any longer than needed.
I levitated the pistol into my mouth and bit down on the handle. Those marvels were made with earth ponies as well as unicorns in mind, so I could avoid lighting everything around me up with my magic. Can’t say I prefer this way of handling a muzzlegun in any capacity.
I slowly, very carefully advanced. If this wasn’t Mother, I wanted to have the opportunity to shoot first. I moved onto the meadow’s grass, both in hopes of muffling my hoofsteps better, and to get out of the pony’s immediate line of sight. Of course, Mother would notice me, as she had a PipBuck. In the off-chance that this wasn’t Mother and that they still had a PipBuck, my stealth attempts were screwed. On the bright side, however, they would see I’m not hostile, and that might incentivize them not to shoot. Although I was probably overthinking things anyway, and this was in fact Mother.
As the mark moved closer, I started hearing teeth chattering. Can you blame them? Then, a voice called out “I-iron? Is that y-you?” and a pony I hadn’t expected in the slightest stepped out of the fog, clad in Stable 4 security barding. She was levitating a shotgun, horn illuminating the inside of her thick mane. “Candy?” my mouth asked before I could stop myself, and a shot echoed through the night. On the ‘d’ sound, my tongue had pulled the trigger.
She yelped in pain and staggered back, the expression on her face a mixture of shock, confusion, and betrayal. Shit.
Footnote:
New perk: Steady Telekinesis I — With enough focus, you’re able to steady your levitation, though the items you hold are still not perfectly stable.
New perk: Bloody Mess — By some strange twist of fate, ponies around you always die violently. You always see the worst way a person can die.
Chapter 4 — Candy Cane
Author's Notes:
Google Docs Link should you want it.
Special thanks to my editor, EverfreePony, and my main pre-reader and basically-co-author, SnakeEye
Candy Cane
I dropped my pistol and ran over to Candy. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just forgot. We need a healing potion and—” I blurted out, cutting myself off when I noticed the complete absence of blood. She just stared at me in shock for a few seconds, until her mind caught up to the situation. She took a deep breath and smiled. How could she smile in a situation like this‽
“I’m fine, the bullet didn’t pierce. Still hurts like crazy though. Probably bruised or cracked a rib if I’m unlucky.” Her serene smile and soothing voice managed to calm me down, and the dam broke.
“I thought I killed you!” I sobbed.
She hugged me, gently rubbing my back and whispering, “It’s okay.”
I cried into her chest for a few minutes, but promptly snapped back to my immediate surroundings when I saw red bars appear on my EFS. From Candy’s expression, I knew she saw them too. My voice shaky and weak, I said, “We should get inside.” She nodded and then followed me inside. I made sure that when I picked up my muzzlegun, I clicked on the safety lock. I’d previously thought it existed only out of principle, and I hadn’t grasped that it would actually be of any use to me. What were the odds that my magic would accidentally pull the trigger? I supposed I didn’t consider the idea I’d ever use it with my mouth…
As we entered the building, Candy covered her muzzle, disgust creeping on her face. “What’s this smell?” she asked, frowning.
I thought back to the innards and limbs I’d cleared out not two hours ago. “I don’t think you want to know. It was even worse when I arrived.”
“Oh, sweet Luna. I’ll… take your word for it.” After that, she closed the door, and an awkward silence enveloped the room like a fog thicker than outside. I redid my earlier makeshift barricade in an attempt to temporarily distract myself from the tension. Eventually, I dared speak up, too uncomfortable not to.
“Again, I’m so sorry for shooting you. Even though the bullet didn’t kill you, it still sounded very painful.” I had no idea what else to say, but apologising was almost always a good option.
“It’s nothing, really. Well, nothing I can’t push through, anyway.” She fell silent, and I started worrying I’d have to force a conversation once more, when she spoke up again, “D-did you see what happened to Concerto?”
Ouch. Of course she’d seen his corpse. I should have hidden it. Then again, I couldn’t have predicted somepony would follow me out of the stable. And besides, it’s not like there was anywhere I could put him. Could I lie my way out of this? While, in my opinion, I was perfectly in the right to kill him, I still didn’t want to admit it to Candy. “Y-yeah. I think M-mother did that when he followed her out. S-she must have blamed him for their exile. Do you have a blanket or something? You must be freezing.” Yikes, why did I have to stutter right there? I was practically giving it away.
Candy locked eyes with me. “Iron… Autie Brass never left the stable.” What‽ I was as surprised as I was glad she was safe. I opened my mouth, but no sound would come out. Before I could get my thoughts in order, she sighed, then smiled. “You don’t need to lie to me, Iron. I would have done the same, had I been in your place. After what he’s done to you, you were perfectly entitled to revenge.” She pulled me into a hug again, and I hugged back.
I whispered to her, “I did kill him, and I enjoyed my revenge.” I didn’t dare mention how much I’d enjoyed it.
After a few moments, I stepped away and asked, “Did you say Mother is still in the stable? My father said she left the stable, and he sounded honest.” Or maybe he was right about being tricked. I’d just assumed he was overreacting, but maybe he did have a point.
“It was all a plan by Iodine and Brass. They tricked him into leaving by making him believe his money was outside. But you weren’t supposed to leave with him.”
“But why bother with such a complicated plan when the three heads can just vote him out?” I could think of a few reasons, but I wanted to be sure. Voting out the overstallion would have made it seem like they were taking power from him, and everypony would have expected Mother to lead perfectly. As it was, ponies were glad that he was gone and would likely welcome Mother’s rule, even if imperfect. It would help ease political tensions within the stable, and likely lead to a better future. That was my best guess, at least.
“It’s complicated, but the short version is that if they just threw him out, it could cause instability amongst the stable’s residents. I don’t really understand everything myself. Maybe you can ask the overmare when we’re back.” She gave me her best ‘sorry, I am not good at this’ smile, and it took my entire willpower not to be smug about my prediction. “I’m so glad you’re safe, I was starting to worry I wouldn’t be able to catch up to you and save you.” She winced and added, pointing to my bandaged chest, “Well, relatively safe."
Right! Of course she came to rescue me! Why else would she have left the stable! “Wait, you came to rescue me? You really are the best, Candy.” I was so glad my one friend was so caring. I was so lucky to have her.
“Of course! I stumbled upon the holotape your father left and immediately got worried when I couldn’t find you. Even your tag pointed outside the stable. When I went to talk to the overmare, Iodine was with her. I showed them the holotape and told them you weren’t in the stable. We immediately went to the entrance and opened the door. Then, that b—meanie Iodine managed to convince Auntie to not let you back in because you’d obviously murdered somepony. Even though she knew that exiling him was already basically killing him.” She cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Gimme a second, my throat is super dry.” She turned to her saddlebags and pulled out her Stable 4 canteen.
This left me wondering why she was, in fact, here and not stuck in the stable, but I suspected she was about to tell me that herself. She took a swig and proved me right with her next sentence. “Of course, I couldn’t just abandon you, but I pretended to agree with them. I needed a while to prepare first, anyway. I used my mother’s password to get into the armoury, got myself a set of barding and weaponry. I also stopped by Iodine’s place to steal some potions. It feels odd to admit this, but I felt no remorse stealing from such an evil pony. Unluckily for me, she caught me red-horned.” A smug grin appeared on her face. “But she didn’t stand in my way long after I pulled out my shotgun and bluffed I would shoot her. After that I locked her in her own office, because she’d call the rest of security if I didn’t.”
“You, Candy Cane, held Iodine up at gunpoint? Colour me surprised.” I’d never heard of her doing something so… unkind. I’d always seen her as a beacon of kindness and positivity, always bringing light to my day with her amiable comments. Was I the exception and Iodine the rule, or was it the opposite?
“I’d do anything to save my cousin, you know that.” She smiled again, and my worries melted away. Whatever it was, she was here for me now, and only that really mattered.
“That sounds like the Candy I know.” I smiled back. “By the way, what’s your plan to get back inside the stable? I’m a bit worried they might decide to kick you out as well for threatening the Head of Medicine. Besides, why are you so sure they’ll take me back just because I’ll come back? Didn’t you say they didn’t want me back?”
“Oh please, worse things have been met with milder punishments. Uncle Concerto was just a special case because he was overstallion. Usually not even murder gets you expelled,” she explained casually. She wasn’t making any sense.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I deadpanned. “Again, you said they didn’t want me back, so why do you think they’ll change their mind if I show up?” It was odd, now that I’d come to peace with the fact I had to stay out here, I almost didn’t even want to go back.
“I told you, I have my mother’s password. We can just get back inside, and then they won’t dare throw us out again.” Well, it looked like I couldn’t get back in after all. I just had to break it to Candy that neither could she.
“Did you try the password on the terminal outside?”
“Yeah, when I realised I forgot my baton I tried opening it back up. Though I’m super clumsy and mistyped the password three or four times, then it locked me out for a few hours, and so I just left. I didn’t need that baton that badly, anyway.” She spoke in her usual light tone, but every few words a detail would betray her worry. She knew, she just hadn’t accepted it yet.
I stared into her rich purple eyes and said firmly, “That terminal doesn’t accept logins from inside the stable. You need a Stable-Tec employee’s credentials. We are stuck out here.”
“Of course it does! It’s a stable terminal!” Candy exclaimed.
“It’s not connected to the inside network,” I stated.
“How would you know that?” she demanded.
“I checked. It asks for a ‘stable-tec’ login, and the terminals inside ask for ‘stable 4’ ones. Also, remember that I have my father’s password, and it allowed me to leave, but not get back in. Plus, it’s unlikely we both mistyped the credentials,” I explained.
“But—but that can’t be true! I bet it’s this bitch Iodine! She must have changed the password when I went outside! A-and they must have changed the password the moment you stepped out!” she blurted out.
“That still means we’re not getting back in,” I replied. What is going on here?
She broke down crying. I took a page out of her book and hugged her. I acted like she would and gently stroked her mane. I didn’t understand why she was acting like this. I understood denial was a powerful feeling, but I’d never seen her act so irrationally.
As I held my cousin, her sobs slowly quieted down before eventually completely stopping. I moved my head back to notice she’d fallen asleep on the dirty floor. She would likely suffer hypothermia if I let her sleep like this.
I undid her saddlebags and rummaged through them. In the right pocket I found some twenty-gauge slugs, some canned slices of apple, and three canteens full of water. The left one contained what I needed—a bedroll—but also a Stable 4 jumpsuit of my size. I couldn’t help but be touched that she’d think of that. I pulled both out and simply draped the rough blanket over her sleeping form, then quietly walked to the employee room. I’d put on the jumpsuit in the morning. I wanted to move her on a comfortable mattress, but I would feel bad for making her sleep on one of these. Besides, I didn’t want to risk waking her up.
I decided to turn on the heater, too. The night was still young, and even inside it was already very cold—particularly after having aired the building out. I tried several of the spark batteries in the generator, putting aside all the spent ones until I found one with a relatively high charge. Really? Had these ponies not had the idea of having separate piles for empty ones? Thankfully, this spark generator had a power gauge. I’d read about older models that didn’t indicate how charged the batteries inside were.
I unplugged the electric heater and carried it, then the generator, into the main room, where I plugged it back in. I’d be wrapped in my quilt on a mattress, while she slept on the cold floor; she needed the heater more than I did. I trotted back to my bed and finally went to sleep.
After a long and somewhat restful slumber I woke up to find Candy still asleep. She’d shifted in her sleep, and was now lying in a much more comfortable-looking position.
I checked the time, noticing I still had two hours before my alarm would ring. The only thing that stopped me from going back to sleep was the intense urge to leave this wretched place, so I turned it off preemptively. I’d only stopped here out of necessity and wanted to move as soon as daylight broke.
I couldn’t tell how bright it was outside. Given that almost half a day had passed since darkness had fallen, I suspected it would be bright sometime soon. Still, I wanted to check. The quicker I left, the better, after all.
I quietly approached the door and moved the bench out of my way. When I opened the door, the cold air bit my nostrils, and the whoosh of the wind soothed my ears. The biggest surprise, though, was to my sight; the brownish yellow grass was gone, replaced by a smooth white blanket; snow. Behind me, Candy shivered and mumbled, “Five more minutes, Mom”. Hoping to not wake her up, I quickly closed the door. I was surprised by how bright it was already. Twelve hours ago it hadn’t been this bright; was it just caused by the thick layer of snow?
I hadn’t ever thought I’d see some in my lifetime. Then again, I hadn’t ever thought I’d leave the stable, and I’d had other things on my mind when I did leave. In history books, the Detrot area was always really cold in the winter, so I wasn’t surprised to see it. I just… hadn’t thought about it.
Naturally, my first thought was to play with it. Candy was still asleep, and I had time to kill until we decided what to do next. I stepped outside, and because my EFS was clear save for her, I didn’t bother taking my gun with me. I walked to the side of the platform and stepped into the snow. It was cold and… crunchy? I took another step and confirmed the feeling. The snow was definitely crunching under my hooves. I started walking, giggling like a young foal, until I eventually broke into a gallop. Why had none of my books ever mentioned how fun snow was?
The cold morning air in my mane, I kept running around the building and in the meadow. It was only in the middle of it that I realised how big this place really was, now that the fog was finally lighter. The clearing alone was several times as big as the atrium, but for some reason I didn’t feel dizzy or lightheaded from the size. Was I finally getting used to the world’s incredible vastness? Or did I just forget to have my mind messed with?
I realised I’d been standing still for a bit too long when a gust of wind almost made me lose my balance. With how much I ran, I’d sweat a surprising amount given how cold it was. The cold wind chilled me to my bones, making me promptly head inside. When I reached the building, I noticed Candy’s bar move. In the short time I’d been outside, the ambient light had gone up significantly, and we could get moving soon. I opened the door.
Inside, Candy was trotting in circles, clearly lost in thought. So much so, in fact, that she didn’t immediately react to my entry into the room. Only after a short while did she turn her head. “Oh. Hey, good morning,” she awkwardly said.
“Good morning, Candy,” I replied and gave her a genuine smile.
She smiled and nodded before speaking up again. “Before anything else, I want to apologise for my breakdown yesterday. I wasn’t thinking clearly at all. The only excuse I could possibly muster was how sleep deprived I was, but even then—my behaviour is still on me and I take full responsibility.”
“It’s no problem, really. I’ll admit I was a little confused and didn’t know how to react, but it didn’t upset me.” I guess it did inconvenience me a little, but I shouldn’t say that. It would just make her feel guilty for no good reason.
“Thanks.” She smiled. “In my sleep-deprived haze I didn’t think through all our options. We may be locked out, but what’s preventing us from knocking on the door for a few days? Somepony is bound to come around and notice the noise,” the mare said in her usual cheerful tone.
She was probably testing me, to see if I grasped the severity of the situation. Or maybe she still just has hope… “Well, we would be betting our lives on that. And even if a normal stable pony heard the noise, the higher-ups probably still wouldn’t let us back in.” While it hurt that Mother would simply abandon me, I perfectly understood her motives. If word got out I’d killed my father and that she’d let me back in, her reputation would take a severe hit. The same applied to Candy, especially since she’d angered Iodine of all ponies.
“Well, how can you be so sure? I get the point you’re making, but I feel like we have very good odds of being let back into the stable, even if I will have to face punishment.”
She was right, it wasn’t that unlikely. I’d already been proven wrong about anypony following me out. So why was I still not convinced? Did I maybe want to stay out here? I’d already wondered about that last night, but I was starting to be certain.
Oh. Yeah. “Candy, do you really want to let someone else decide for you if you’ll live? I just realised that I don’t want to return to the stable. For once in my life, I feel like I’m deciding what happens to me. If we go back, we’re not only placing our immediate survival in the hooves of the stable, but also the rest of our lives.” I paused and took a deep breath. Candy looked ready for a rebuttal, but I took the wind from her sails. “You can go back if you’re fine with this, but I’m not following.” I would likely die out here, but at least it would be as a result of my own choice. Of course, I couldn’t tell her that; she’d think I was trying to manipulate her. I really wanted her to stay with me, but I didn’t want to force it upon her.
After a pregnant silence that I didn’t dare interrupt, she spoke up again, “I’m sorry, Iron. I didn’t realise you felt this way. I suppose it does make sense.” She paused for a few moments to think. “I joined security to help ponies. I felt like I could help more than in medical. That was my decision and mine alone. But as I went through training, I realised more and more that I couldn’t help anypony as much as I wanted to. Out here, on the other hoof, I can help you much more than everypony else combined. If your dream is to be free, then I’ll assist in any way I can.” ‘Dream’ may be putting it on a little too thick, but I appreciate it nonetheless.
I ran up to her and hugged her, dropping my mask. “Thank you!” I wasn’t alone! Not only did this mean I was more likely to survive, but I also had the company of my best friend. Words could hardly express how relieved I was. Instead, I just hugged her harder. Another part of me was happy that a grown-up had finally listened to me, but that feeling was eclipsed by everything else.
“Ouch!” she yelped, and I jumped back. I’d been pressing my face into the angry blue bruise on her chest. “Sorry, I should have told you before the pain became unbearable,” she admitted, smiling sheepishly. Riiiight. I did shoot her.
“Sorry, I didn’t really think, I was just so happy!” I smiled back, and we giggled for a short moment. “We should get moving, though. You’ve felt how cold nights are, and we can’t stay here.”
“I know, I know. I even have a stable jumpsuit for you. I couldn’t find any barding small enough for you to wear, so this is all we have.” She reached into her bag before I could speak up and was surprised she couldn’t find it.
“I already took it when I went through your stuff looking for something to cover you with,” I explained, then admitted, “I just forgot about it when I went out earlier.”
“Oh. In that case let’s eat something and then get ready to leave,” she said, levitating out two cans of apples.
I positively devoured mine. I’d eaten so little during the past few days that I was really starting to feel the hunger add up. Rationing was not fun, and I couldn’t wait until the day we could afford to eat proper quantities again. As I finished drinking the diluted fruit juice, I noticed Candy observing me. “Wow, I’ve never seen you this hungry before,” she said. I explained to her why exactly.
“Oh wow. I’m glad I never shot at those things, then. I saw a few throughout the day, but I was too tired to risk combat.”
“You mentioned that. Didn’t sleep well?” I asked, licking the juice off my lips.
“Mostly too little. When you went missing, I spent my entire C-shift looking for you. Then I couldn’t go to bed immediately because I decided to report to Mom after I asked Iodine to check on you.”
“Wait, when do you normally sleep? I didn’t keep track of your schedule, sorry.”
“A-shift. So I was already very tired by the time I finally found you. So anyway, I took a short nap of a few hours in Mom’s office when the three set their plan in motion—Iodine insisted I didn’t go back to my quarters out of fear Concerto would somehow see through the ruse. Then you went missing again, and by the time I left the stable, it was already A-shift again. In other words, when I arrived here last night, I’d slept less than three hours in the past six shifts.”
I gasped. I’d never missed a night’s sleep. When I approached sixteen waking hours, my brain already felt like it was barely able to process anything anymore. “Oh my. I can’t imagine how tired you must’ve been. Are you feeling any better now?”
“Mhm!” she chirped. “Still not fully rested, but hey. I did sleep on a dirty wooden floor, so that’s no surprise,” she said, apparently amused by the odd circumstances. “Anyway, you should get ready while I finish my breakfast.”
I nodded and went to the smaller room with the mattresses. I started putting on the jumpsuit and only stopped when I had to close the zipper over my chest. I levitated the bandages off, and winced at the scar, still an irritated red. It was so thick that I doubted it would ever go away. I called Candy over to have her take a look at it.
“Yikes… That must have been so painful. Does it still hurt?” she commented as she examined the relatively fresh wound.
I shook my head. “Not really. The bandages did a good job, I think. I’m just wondering, will the scar stay?”
“Definitely.” I felt my ears droop. She placed a hoof under my chin, lifting it up. “But I think fur might hide it. And in either case, it’s a proof of what you went through. It’s a proof of how strong you are. Wear it with pride.” She was right, but I still couldn’t calm down. It was as if a part of me had been ruined forever; I would never go back to my old self, would I? I sighed, nodding.
She returned to the waiting room, and I finished getting ready, closing the zipper and putting on my saddlebags, then my harness. Somehow, it felt reassuring to feel the weight of my guns on my back.
When I started moving back into the main room, I glanced over at the terminal. Unlike Arcane’s, this one was somehow still functional—when Stable-Tec built something, they built it to last. Apparently.
I noticed a user was still logged on. Curious, I approached the glowing terminal and a few dozen entries. All labeled “Diary” followed by a date. In the parent folder, I found another directory labeled “Ticket Sales”. Common sense told me I had no interest in reading those. Curiosity told me it was important that I do read them. I listened to curiosity, but compromised with common sense. I didn’t have time to read all of this now—or even a fraction, actually. I needed to download them to my PipBuck.
I’d only used the feature once in the stable. When trying to earn my cutie mark in music, I’d downloaded a recording of the piece I would attempt to learn on the piano. It hadn’t amounted to anything other than frustration, however. Well, I suppose it did teach me to copy files from a terminal.
I selected the radio transfer option and waited less than a minute for the copy to complete—much faster than the audio file.
When I returned to the larger room, Candy was eating from a bag of pre-war crisps. I stood there, staring at her, unable to comprehend the scene. When she finally noticed my confused glare, she finished chewing and spoke up, “You were taking a while, and I was wondering if they’d still be good to eat. They’re so chock-full of preservatives that I suspected they still were. Turns out I’m right.” She levitated the bag to me. “You can have the rest. I wasn’t that hungry to begin with, just curious.”
Hesitant, I levitated the bag towards myself and was surprised the inside smelled so… appetizing. Or was that just my hunger speaking? Regardless, I tried one. Like she’d said, it tasted perfectly edible. Not very good, but edible. While she walked around the room and packed the few packages of food scattered around, I ate the crisps, finding myself unable to stop. How are they so good, despite being so mediocre? And how are they still so good?
I followed Candy outside, before she turned to me and asked, “Where should we go? I think following the road might be our best bet.”
“I don’t know, either. I know that those tracks likely lead to Detrot, or, rather what remains of it after the bombs. I have no idea where the road would take us, though,” I told her.
“Well, walking on a concrete road would be a lot nicer than on rocks and tracks,” she rationalised. I nodded. I didn’t really have an opinion against it, and she was the grown-up. Then, silence fell on us both, as neither felt like she had a topic to start on.
Five minutes went by before Candy spoke up again, “I didn’t notice it yesterday, but you got your cutie mark. Congrats, I really think it suits you!” Thanks, I got it by killing my father. “How did you get it?”
“Thanks, I got it when I realised how interesting guns were. How ingenious the mechanical parts are, how it all works together in one goal.” How they splatter ponies’ heads. “And how great they feel in my telekinesis when they fire.”
“Oh, that’s really interesting. Would you want some tips? I’m not that great with firearms myself, but I did go through training, so I might know a few things more than you.”
“Yeah, I’d love that. I found a book on them, but it doesn’t really go in depth on how to aim them. In principle it’s easy. Align front and back iron sights with my target, and pull the trigger.”
“Well, having the theory down is already pretty good. Next time we stop, I’ll watch you aim and give you a few tips.” She beamed at me. This mare’s positivity knew no bounds, did it?
The road led into the same forest, with only the occasional clearing from time to time. Over time, it eventually flattened out until we were walking on practically level ground, barring the occasional small hill. Eventually, the scenery changed.
Candy and I walked into a ruined pre-war town that my PipBuck labeled as ‘Gluon Village’. The houses here had been built side to side, leaving no space between them. They looked perfectly identical, if I overlooked the details. While they hadn’t been hit directly, time had taken its toll on them, and they were all falling apart in some way or another. This had raised the question of how Arcane Spark’s home had survived so well, but I just ended up pushing it out of my head. It didn’t matter.
Given how tired my legs were after walking for those few hours, we decided to take a small break from walking, and instead split up in order to try and find more food in the abandoned houses. Surely, there’d be something in one of those. Reality, however, wasn’t as nice. Neither of us had found anything in any of the buildings we explored. I suspected that if we combed through all of them, we might still find something. Whoever had scavenged them before us had to have missed something. It was obvious somepony had been here prior; fridges and drawers were all left open, and small furniture was moved out of the way.
Time, however, was not on our side. Candy had deemed it wasn’t worth staying here the extra while, and I’d agreed. We didn’t know we would find something, and we’d be here all day if we checked every corner of every house. We needed to keep moving. One more house each, we’d agreed upon.
Disappointed by its emptiness, I tossed aside a tin can and moved outside, finding my companion waiting for me. “Still no luck?” I asked.
“Nope. I think we already wasted enough time here,” stated the security mare.
As we walked forward, a red light blinked into existence on my EFS. I immediately perked up, but Candy didn’t seem to notice it or my worry. “Candy!” I whispered as loudly as I dared. She turned to me and her face quickly matched my unease.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked out loud.
“Ssh! Don’t you see the red bars?” Bars. There was another one now.
“N-no,” she whispered. “Where?” she said, trying to hide
“Right ahead. They’re still pretty far. What do we do about them?”
“I think it’s best to leave. Let’s try to sneak past them and follow this road away from this town.” I nodded in reply. Part of me hoped for conflict, but I knew it wasn’t the safe option. If Candy thought they were dangerous, then we were best off avoiding them. “Since you know better where they are, I’ll just follow you,” she added.
I decided the best course of action would be to first walk towards them and see where exactly they were. Because there weren’t any gaps between the houses, trying to go behind them would require us to go around the whole town. I wanted to avoid that and the potential risks associated with walking through the forest. I still wasn’t over the red bars that would periodically show up on my EFS whenever I was near the forest.
As we slowly advanced, three more hostiles appeared before we arrived at an intersection. At the opposing corner, a small supermarket stood, slightly taller than the buildings surrounding it. It seemed like all of the red bars except one were in it. Unfortunately, one was most definitely on the road. I dared peek my head around the corner, and saw a… an equine molerat? No. This thing looked more like a walking corpse than a molerat. And unlike the other animal, it seemed to at least have some fur, patchy as it was.
As I was locked in stupor at the creature’s fascinating ugliness, it turned around and locked its gaze on me. I wanted to conserve SATS energy for when it was close-by, so I aimed my varmint rifle at its head and quickly realised hitting a running target would be difficult. I refocused on its chest and pulled the trigger. My weapon’s handle hit me in the nose, momentarily dazing me and sending pain through my face. I shook my head and looked ahead again, seeing it charging straight at me. I thought I’d hit it! Why was it still moving?
I clicked into SATS and queued two shots at its face. I pulled the trigger… and nothing happened. But I was sure the magazine was full! SATS cancelled, and I desperately pulled the trigger over and over again. Nothing.
The beast—a ‘ghoul’ according to my PipBuck—leapt at me, raising its hoof to hit me. Terrified, I squeezed my eyes shut.
Crack! Pain. Darkness. Nothing.
I woke up, a little groggy. I didn’t wanna get up. It was much too early; I even had a small headache. Mmh whatever. I could just take one of Mother’s mints or headache pills. But if I could sleep, I would. Hopefully Mother would let me sleep in just today. Ugh, the pain was worse than I thought. What time was it, anyway? In an attempt to look at my PipBuck, I opened my eyes. By now, my head was hurting more than ever before.
I closed my eyes again, squeezing them shut, but the pain didn’t leave. I tried focusing it away, but every attempt only seemed to make it worse. Suddenly, a calming voice rang out, “Iron? Are you waking up?” I didn’t wanna talk. It hurt too much to even think. “Hold on, let me try to help,” she comforted me before the pain quickly diminished.
Now that I could think clearly again—at least now that I’d woken up—I started to remember. The stable, the wasteland, the filthy killers, the undead pony. I opened my eyes, ears ringing.
“Candy? What happened?” I needed confirmation.
“You were knocked down,” she admitted with her serene smile.
“Yeah…” I paused, unsure of what to say. “How badly was I hurt?” By the look that this question spawned on her face, I figured pretty badly.
“Pretty badly. That… thing… fractured your skull. Thankfully the dent wasn’t very deep, so your condition wasn’t completely critical. I gave you a healing potion and some Med-X, but you’re probably going to feel the concussion for at least a few days.” She sighed. “You seem to be stable for now. The healing potion will have stopped most internal bleeding, and the bandage should take care of your head wound. You should try to sleep.”
She didn’t need to ask me twice. Drowsy, I simply nodded and closed my eyes again, and embraced the sweet release of unconsciousness.
I woke up in a dark room, Candy Cane’s warm body pressed against mine. We lay on my quilt, covered by Candy’s blanket. My head was still pounding, but unlike earlier, it wasn’t overwhelming. I touched my head where I’d been hit, expecting to feel a bump. Instead, I just felt the familiar texture of bandages. Almost more surprisingly, I didn’t feel any pain as I ran my hoof over my skull. It was then I decided that I loved healing magic.
I turned my PipBuck to me and checked the time. Middle of the night. That was inconvenient, as I doubted I would manage to fall asleep again. I’d been out for more than sixteen hours. I felt guilty for slowing us down. I wanted to wake up Candy and tell her I was alright, and that we could start moving again, but she deserved to sleep. I’d pass time until she was up.
As I looked around the room I was in, I noticed I was on a queen-sized pre-war bed with a relatively clean mattress. It was still covered with dust, but not caked in blood or… other… bodily fluids. I recognised the room as one of the master bedrooms of the replicated houses. I couldn’t see my harness or saddlebags anywhere.
I rolled out from under the blanket and off the bed, and immediately regretted everything about my life. It felt as if somepony fired guns from inside my head. After several incredibly long seconds, the pain went away, and I shuddered as the cold bit my coat. And then I sneezed and whimpered as the full pain hit my head like a sledgehammer again. Uuuugh. With no other option, I wiped my nose on my foreleg.
I found my tracksuit neatly folded on a chair. I levitated it over—noticing how difficult it was to concentrate—and put it on as quietly as I managed, which apparently was not quietly enough as my friend groaned and shifted under the blanket. Once I had it on, I walked around the room a bit more, and found our bags behind the bed. I floated mine onto my back, but didn’t bother tightening the straps, and walked out into the rest of the house.
Once I was in the living room, I took the bones off the armchair to sit down. I started considering what to do. Maybe I should figure out why my gun didn’t fire. My first suspicion was ammunition, despite my certainty that I’d loaded the magazine. As I pulled it out, I noticed a single bullet stuck in the opening that led to the chamber. Ah, it malfunctioned. Wondering how I could prevent it, I decided to try reading The Mechanical Wonders of Firearms.
With my headache throbbing, reading proved difficult, but feasible. I considered eating some mints to help me focus, but I didn’t want to deal with the sugar crash the rest of the day. Besides, I only had a few. What did prevent me from reading, however, was how cold the room was. My nose was running like a faucet, and the occasional sneezes did not help. Third day out of the stable, and I already had a cold. Thrilling. And thus, after not even a quarter hour, I decided to go back to bed, just to read where it was warm. If I turned on my side and away from Candy, I could avoid blinding her with my light.
Without taking off my jumpsuit, I climbed into the warm—oh so warm—bed and attentively read the gun manual. Now that I knew most of the terminology used in it, it was much easier to understand it, despite the pulsating pain behind my eyes. In just three hours, I’d finished working my way through the pages. I couldn’t tell how much longer I would have to wait until Candy woke up, or how long she’d already been sleeping. I put away the textbook and took one of the novels instead.
It wasn’t a particularly interesting novel, just a simple detective story, but it kept me occupied and distracted from my headache. Especially since I didn’t need to focus too hard to understand it. A simple timekiller. It almost felt nostalgic to be this relaxed.
Suddenly, a loud noise rang out right behind me, and I started. My telekinesis grabbed for my pistol, but I realised the noise was coming from right behind me. I turned around and found that the source of the shrill beeps that were assaulting my head was Candy’s foreleg. More specifically, the PipBuck attached to it. It was a much bulkier—and presumably older—model than mine. Why did it have to make such an awful racket? My own alarm was much softer, and didn’t induce—or aggravate—any headaches.
She clicked it off with her other leg and yawned right into my face. Her breath, while not fetid, was definitely far from pleasant. She opened her eyes and seemed surprised to see me, but her expression softened and she smiled. “Good morning.” She rubbed her eye, letting out another yawn, this time luckily away from me. “How are you feeling? Got a headache? Does your skull hurt?”
“I’m feeling… Pretty terrible, honestly, but much better than yesterday. My head is hurting worse than ever before, but I think my skull is fine.” This felt like a medical checkup, so I answered it like one.
“That’s to be expected.” She hugged me, stroking my mane. “When you went down, you were bleeding so much, I thought I would lose you. Even after I used both my healing potions on you, you still weren’t waking up. I knew they were too weak to help with advanced head trauma, but I didn’t know they would be that ineffective…” But you sounded so in control when I woke up earlier, like everything was going to be alright… I wanted to ask her about it, but I felt too guilty right now to question her behaviour.
“I’m sorry for worrying you… And I’m sorry for slowing us down…” If my gun hadn’t jammed, or if I’d had my pistol on hoof, this all would have been avoided. If I hadn’t missed. If I’d just taken the safe route, instead of foolishly trying to sneak around. I clearly wasn’t good at that, so why did I convince myself I could walk past an alert enemy? I’d acted so irrationally.
She backed out of the embrace and looked me in the eye. “Oh, Iron… please don’t apologise for this. It’s my fault you got hit in the first place.” How? I was the one who’d missed the shot.
After a few seconds of silence, it became clear she wasn’t planning on explaining it on her own, and so I spoke up, “How is it your fault?” Wait… She’d had ample time to shoot it, hadn’t she? And her gun was functional and loaded.
“I… I froze. I had the perfect opportunity to shoot it, to switch to SATS and kill it before it got to you. When I saw the bar moving closer, I thought it was a pony; not some mindless beast that would break your skull… I thought we could just talk it out and… and…” she trailed off, voice cracking as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Oh. So she was partly to blame as well. “Ah, I see. Aren’t all red bars things that will attack you, though?” Wasn’t that half the point of the spell, to tell you if you were in danger?
She took a few deep breaths before explaining, “No, not exactly. You see, EFS estimates a creature’s aggression, but it’s not perfect. It’s far from that, actually. Red bars don’t always attack on sight. Sometimes they apparently don’t even want to attack, but your PipBuck misjudges it.”
“Has that ever happened to you?” I pondered outloud.
“A few times in the stable, but also once at the Foal Mountain train station.” She gave me a serene smile.
I immediately understood the implications, and my mouth just went “Oh.”
“It’s why I didn’t call out to you. I was scared somepony had taken your PipBuck, and I was too scared to say anything.”
“Well, thanks for not shooting me on sight, I suppose.” So that I could shoot you by accident right after. Meaning to change topics, I quickly followed up, “What did I miss? I hope I didn’t force you to watch over me for an entire day.”
“You didn’t, actually. After you woke up you seemed stable, so I decided to try my hoof at scavenging again. I did manage to find a few things once I took my time to look properly. Our food supply actually went up, though it’s more of the same pre-war stuff; can’t exactly say I’m thrilled to eat it over somewhat fresh apples,” Candy explained while levitating her saddlebags onto the bed, opening them to reveal more of the plastic packaging, as well as a few cans whose paper label had fallen off.
“Ah, that’s good to hear.” So whoever had stripped this place before us hadn’t been perfectly thorough, just as I thought. “Did you find any ammo? I don’t have much for my rifle.”
“What kind does it use? I found two twenty-two calibre rounds, and three thirty-two calibre ones. Didn’t find any shells for my shotgun, though.”
“I’ll gladly take the point-twenty-two long rifle ones. Does your shotgun take twenty gauge? I saw some in your bags,” I chirped, much to my own surprise. I guess not even a concussion’s splitting headache could keep guns from cheering me up. I levitated out the eighteen cartridges I had left.
“Yeah, I think so. How come you have so many? How come you have any at all, for that matter?”
“I took them from the stable. Didn’t know how many, but twenty of them seemed like a reasonable amount. Why, how many do you have?”
“I only took ten, didn’t think I’d stay out here long enough to need more,” she admitted.
Chatting and giggling, we eventually ate breakfast—I wasn’t very hungry, but Candy rightfully insisted I eat something anyway—and prepared to move forward.
“By the way, Iron, what happened to your shotgun? I’m assuming you had one because you had ammo for it.”
“I… ended up using it as a blunt weapon. Not my brightest moment, I’ll admit.” Embarrassed, I felt myself blush.
We left the house—it was one of those furthest from the shop—and made our way along the road. Candy explained to me that the rest of the red bars seemed to be stuck inside the market, to her relief, which I ended up sharing. My headache was bad enough as was. I didn’t need to be attacked again anytime soon. What kind of strength did that thing have, anyway? He had hit me pretty hard, and yet, unlike the beast, he had never used enough force to instantly knock me out, much less actually threaten my life.
As we reached the shop once again, I noticed a smaller road led into the forest. Candy paid it no mind; she was right, we didn’t have time to waste on exploring a forest.
Less than five hours later, we arrived in another abandoned settlement. This one seemed much bigger than the last, but I couldn’t tell exactly by how much from here. Most of the houses were different, unlike Gluon Village. On top of that, I could see multiple-storey tall residential blocks in the distance. Candy suggested we stop here to scavenge and stay the night, and, exhausted from the walk, I agreed.
We were about to split up when the pink mare spoke up, “Wait, I should show you where to look, so we’ll search this one together.” As we stepped into the dilapidated house, I marvelled at how quickly she was adapting. In just a day, she already knew so much more than me. I would need to put in serious effort if I wanted to be as good as her at this. “The trick is to look where it’s inconvenient to check, since all those places have been visited before.” In an impressive show of strength, she pushed away a huge wardrobe, to reveal only dusty floor and wall. “Most of the time there’s nothing there, but you gotta check if you want to be sure.” I nodded in response. “I’ll take the kitchen,” she said, pointing to the left doorway.
Motivated to make up for my earlier mishap, I flipped the entire living room on its head. Why hadn’t she used telekinesis on that wardrobe? I was moving furniture much quicker with my magic, so why wasn’t she? Was my magical grip stronger than hers?
Unluckily, I didn’t find anything. Not letting myself get discouraged by my lack of findings, I moved out of the living room. I picked another room, a bathroom, though my decision was likely biased by biological needs.
I opened the door, but was shocked to find a fresh corpse inside. Well, ‘fresh’ wasn’t the correct word. This pony had been dead for… Well it was hard to hell, but definitely longer than a week. Who would pick a bathroom as a place to die, anyway?
My question was answered as I took a step into the room, and a scary thought reared its ugly head. Right at that moment, the ghoul opened its eyes, and its red marker appeared on my EFS. Knowing I didn’t have any time to waste, I reached for my pistol and activated SATS. I queued my three shots to its head. The sound of my ten millimetre firing in such a closed space felt like my poor aching brain was being assaulted with the same bullets I’d just shot at the creature. Within two shots, it was dead and the spell cancelled, leaving my head throbbing. Had it even been alive before that? Regardless, I was lucky to have such quick reactions.
No more than a few moments later, my friend’s shotgun roared somewhere else in the house, then promptly once again. Another pair of them? I ran to the kitchen to find her hunched over a ghoul’s deader body. She probably just shot this one twice. She turned to me and asked, worry apparent in her voice. “Are you hurt?”
“No more than I was five minutes ago, no,” I replied matter-of-factly. I didn’t count my migraine worsening as ‘hurt’.
One by one, red bars started appearing outside. Candy’s EFS must have started picking them up as well, as she leaned on the counter to look through the window. “More ghouls?”
“If by that you mean creatures like this, yes. There’s a lot of them. You run upstairs, I’ll catch up with you in a moment.” Trusting her to have a plan, I nodded. On my way through the lobby, I quickly floated the overturned wardrobe in front of the door before I reached the stairs.
As I arrived upstairs, I noticed Candy was tailing me. “Didn’t you say you’d need a bit?”
“Well, I wanted to barricade the door, but you took care of that. Anyway, not the time for chatter.” She walked into the room to our right, and I followed suit. Outside, a group—no, a crowd—of ghouls formed a solid wall of red on my EFS. This was more than I had ammunition, even if I very optimistically counted one bullet per kill. Where were they all even coming from? Maybe if Candy helped me, and if nothing else showed up, we could kill them all…
Yeah no, we were screwed, weren’t we? Our only plan was to flee, but I doubted I could outrun them, especially not tired as I was, or with my half-plugged nose. Candy approached the window, pensive. “I have a plan. I’ll lure them away while you get to safety. I’ll find you again, don’t worry.” Wait what? Walking back, she opened the window with her magic.
“Candy, wait!”
But she didn’t. She sprinted, jumping out of the window, and rolled as she landed on the concrete road behind the mob. “Catch me if you can, uglies!” the pink mare called out as she ran away where we’d come from, occasionally looking back to make sure the zombies were still following her.
Was this really the best way? I knew she was fast, and she knew better than me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if her putting herself in danger for me was a good thing. I sighed, both out of worry and of relief as I noticed my EFS was now empty. Neither of the ghouls in the house had shown up on it, so that must have meant that the spell ignored them because they looked and acted dead.
Wary, I left the house, avoiding the side rooms. Who knew if any more sleeping ghouls were here. I doubted it, but erring on the side of caution felt like the correct choice given that I was alone again.
Unlike Gluon Village, the houses in ‘Inntation’ were far enough apart that going between them—and most importantly getting away from the open street—was a possibility. On top of that, the sickly grass in the yards muffled my footsteps, making sneaking much easier, and the broken picket fences didn’t prove to be much of an obstacle.
I followed the main road from a distance, careful to avoid being out in the open any longer than necessary. I always stayed in the shadows of the houses, walking on the dead grass in the yards, keeping my distance from any and all red bars. Eventually, the trees to my left started thinning, and I could see large fields of half-dead vegetation in the distance.
All the while, I couldn’t help but worry about Candy. I knew she would be fine—she was a grown-up, after all—but a part of me dreaded thinking about an off-chance where the horrible ghouls would catch up to her. No, no, you’ve seen how fast she runs. She’ll be fine. You know it, I reassured myself.
I eventually reached a huge river. It was wider than my stable’s atrium was long, and in the freezing cold I didn’t even want to think about swimming across. Especially given how fast its water flowed, angrily whooshing. On the other side, houses were few and far between, and the forest was replaced by plains that stretched further than I could see. Perfect. Less places for ghouls to lurk in. In the distance I could see what looked like a bridge. I followed the river, and eventually noticed that the drawbridge was open, and that to cross it I would need to find a way to close it first. Something else that caught my attention was the large antenna standing in a yard across the river. A pre-war radio station?
In front of me stood a small building, barely big enough to fit a single pony inside. Next to it, a sign labelled “Train Station” stood, pointing across the bridge. As I approached it, a white bar popped up on my EFS. In front of the house with the antenna, a lone pony sat on a porch, wearing a thick coat. He did not seem to be aware of my presence in the slightest. I moved closer until I was next to the booth. I reached for my rifle and carefully lined the iron sights up with each other, and with his head.
Wait, what am I doing? I was eliminating a potential threat. But I can’t know if he’s actually a threat. His bar is even white. I knew I should err on the side of caution, but was it really worth taking a life ‘just to be safe’?
Well, it would always be fun to watch his brain exit through the hole I’d add to his skull. I froze. What did I just think? Surely I didn’t actually just consider committing murder just for fun. But I had, and that terrified me. I couldn’t allow myself to turn out like my father. And even then—he hadn’t murdered anypony! Besides, the shot would likely draw out more ghouls, so I had even less of a reason to even think of pulling the trigger.
I harnessed my rifle to myself and swallowed. Inside the booth, a single terminal illuminated the wall in front of it. I approached it and clicked a key, only to be met with a password prompt. Of course, life couldn’t be easy. I stepped outside again and was suddenly very glad I hadn’t killed the stallion. “Hey!” I called out as quietly as possible. His ears perked up, indicating that he’d heard me. He looked around, but his gaze didn’t lock onto me. I stood up on my hindlegs, using the booth as support for my balance and waved my other front leg. “Over here! Can you lower the bridge?”
He lifted a pair of binoculars, then walked over to the booth twin to the one on this side. The wooden bridge came down with whirring noise, and the older pony waited for me on the other side. “What’s a filly like you doing around these parts? Come on, it’s dangerous.” He motioned for me to cross. From the elevated height, I could make out train tracks in the distance.
I followed his advice—or request, I couldn’t really tell—and approached him. “I suppose I’m just passing through.” As I arrived on the other side, the bridge started opening again.
“Did nopony tell you to avoid shouting in ghoul-infested areas?” He sounded… disappointed? Like he was reprimanding me.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t really know how to get your attention otherwise,” I admitted, slightly flustered.
“Don’t apologise, it’s your own safety, after all. It’s not like I care, but I’m surprised anypony would do something so reckless,” the old buck clarified and started walking back to his chair on the porch. On the other side stood a machine with gun barrels pointing out of its sides. Was that an automated turret? We had those in the stable, if I remembered correctly.
The buck must have noticed me staring. “Ain’t she a beaut? Too bad ammo costs half a kidney. But she does dissuade a lot of stupidity, I think.” I nodded and contemplated the machine. While it certainly had a certain aesthetic to it and probably had very interesting internals, a part of me was offended at the idea that you would use a machine to shoot for you. Didn’t that take half the fun away?
After a short enough while, I spoke up, “Would it be possible for me to wait somewhere around here?” It felt odd asking for permission for something as mundane, but I didn’t know if I was maybe on his property.
He laughed heartily before replying, “Yeah, of course, what kinda question is that? Just don’t steal my stuff or my guests’ and we’re fine. Though I gotta wonder, what are you waiting for?” he inquired, perking up in his chair.
“My friend; we split up earlier, and I’m supposed to wait somewhere safe. Here seems safe enough.” I just hope she is safe.
“Well then, feel free to wait with me. You want some tea?” the light brown stallion offered, pointing to a kettle in front of him. “Should still be warm.” I nodded, and he trotted inside, bringing out a cup that he filled with the steaming liquid.
I levitated it to my lips and noted that it was just the right temperature to not get burnt, and took a sip. It was horrible, but I didn’t dare show it on my face. “Thank you,” I said, trying very hard not to let my disgust show. Might as well make some more conversation if I’ll be staying here for a while. “I’m Iron Sonata, by the way.”
He laughed heartily again. “That is such a stable dweller name.” What was wrong with my name? “Stockpile, glad to meetcha.” He grinned, letting his crooked yellow teeth show. “You said you had to split off from your friend. How come?” Well I didn’t say I had to, but I suppose it was obvious…
“We were ambushed by ghouls, and she decided to act as a decoy,” I explained as neutrally as I could.
He made a worried facial expression before replying. “Well, I don’t mean to be a bearer of bad news, but she probably is done for.”
“Forgive me for contradicting, but she was much faster than those ghouls, she could likely run circles around them. I would be lying if I said I am not worried for her, but I also believe in her.” I smiled, proud of my friend. If only I was an adult like her…
The buck chuckled. “Well, I suppose hope always dies last. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you please.”
Remembering something he’d said previously, I asked, “Do you get many guests?”
“Yeah, lots of travellers come by here. This trade route is pretty popular, especially lately. With how unsafe every other east-west trail is getting, ponies are willing to give the cold north a shot. New Detrot especially has been slowly flourishing from the influx of caravans.” He sighed and added, “Oh, would you look at me, rambling again. I’m sorry, you probably don’t care about any of this in the slightest.”
“Oh, no, sir! I do appreciate any sort of information. School in the stable doesn’t really teach anything about the outside world, so I’m fairly lost, and I would be very grateful if you had the kindness to tell me more about this place, please,” I explained, trying to act as polite as possible. I just hope I don’t seem like too much of a bootlicker…
“Oh, what a well-behaved filly you are, of course I’ll help you.” He smiled at me, crooked teeth showing once more. The image of myself aiming for his skull mere minutes ago crossed my mind, but I pushed it aside. “I’ve been here my whole life, so I wouldn’t know where to start. I suppose a good lesson zero would be to be a little skeptical of ponies. I’ve heard a lot about stable ponies being incredibly gullible and easy to trick. You’ll probably fall for a few tricks before you learn the do’s and don’t’s, but just try not to get killed before you learn ‘em.”
He took a brief pause, catching his breath. “If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. Hell, you probably shouldn’t be trusting me right now, if you were to follow my advice to the letter, but you’re lucky that I’m an incredibly honest and frank pony.” Was a pony who bragged about his honesty really worth trusting? I had my doubts, but at least he was friendly so far.
“Would you happen to have any advice more… specific? I’ll try to stay alert about getting tricked.” Not that I was too easy to trick, I was pretty bright after all. Well… I did get tricked by Mother’s attempts to trick my father, but she was a particularly clever pony.
“Hmm… Lemme think… Well, maybe I’d mention that ghouls are dangerous, but I think you already know that. Nothing is really coming to mind, sorry, young one. But yeah, just ask me whatever you want to know, and I’ll answer to my best ability. You’re lucky you found a pony as honest as me.”
“For starters… What are those ghouls? They look like they shouldn’t be alive, but certainly hit like they’re still alive. Are there any ways I can avoid them, or at least know when to expect them to be around? Sorry if this is a bit of a silly question, sir.”
Stockpile’s eyes lit up, and he replied, “Well, I was expecting dumber questions, actually. Truth is, nopony really knows what ghouls are. In theory they’re just ponies that soaked up too much radiation, but that’s not even the whole story.” He went quiet for a moment and glanced over the bridge, at the rest of town. “Most ponies just die when exposed to too much radiation, but a few ghoulify instead.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath. “As for where to expect them? Well, I’d say anywhere that was inhabited, or just anywhere ponies were likely to be on the day the bombs fell.”
“That sounds like a fate worse than death, if you ask me. Just… losing your mind and wandering for days before you finally die off.”
“Uh, missy… most of the ghouls here have been around since the end of the war, so more than just a few days. And those are just ferals. Some rare ghouls manage to keep hold of their mind, so don’t be surprised if you go west to New Detrot. A ghoul doctor works there, and she’s probably the wisest mare I know.”
“I… see. So there’s actual settlements here? So far all I’ve seen was a group of three crazy ponies in a train station and you.” My headache was starting to flare up again, so I decided to sit down on the wooden planks next to him.
“Well, yeah. To the west there’s the griffin town of New Detrot, while to the east, if you walk long enough you’ll find a few small villages, and eventually arrive in Manehat—” He stopped mid-sentence. Manehatten? That’s a name I remember from History class. One of the bigger pre-war cities. “Wait a second, you’ve been to the Foal Mountain train station?”
“Yeah, but how did you know it was that one?” It wasn’t as if that was the only train station in Equestria. “Were those three famous or something?” Realising my mistake, I immediately corrected myself. “Well, are they famous, rather.” Idiot. How could I let that slip? I didn’t want him to know I was a killer.
“Not really, but they are blocking a lot of travel to and from Hollow Shades. I kinda wish some hero wannabe would finally kill them, since it’s too far out of the way for anyone to place a worthwhile bounty on them, and my measly fifty caps just aren’t drawing out the headhunters.” Wait, so he wants them dead?
“Oh, I killed them,” I stated flatly.
I was expecting relief or gratitude, so when he started laughing, I simply tilted my head and furrowed my eyebrows. What was so funny? “Bahaha! You stable ponies really have a good sense of humour.” I simply deadpanned in response. “Oh. You’re serious.” His expression darkened. “You really shouldn’t lie, little one.” But I’m not lying! I wanted to scream at him, to convince him. But I knew he wouldn’t believe me, so I wouldn’t waste my efforts.
As I kept quiet, he eventually spoke up again, “Hey, if you oh-so-lethal filly killed them, how did you do it?” Was that self-doubt I could hear in his voice?
“I snuck up on the one wielding that long metal bar and blasted his face to bits with a twenty gauge. Then, near the corner closest to the mountain, I shot the unicorn mare through the eye with her own rifle.” I turned to point at the weapon I’d just mentioned, strapped to my side. “Then I caved the shovel-wielding earth pony’s head in with my shotgun, which I still regret because that was my best weapon, and I broke it beyond repair.” I sighed and frowned. “He deserved it though, he gave me a huge cut across the chest.” I unzipped my Stable 4 jumpsuit, showing the line of bare, red skin between my whitish fur. “Is that enough detail?” I regretted my last comment. I really shouldn’t be disrespecting an adult, no matter how casual our conversation has been so far.
“Woah nelly. Well forgive me for being skeptical that a filly fresh outta the stable could take on three raiders. Then again, they weren’t the brightest bunch; weren’t even that dangerous in how far raiders go.”
“So ponies like them are common enough to have a name?” I wasn’t exactly surprised, but it did leave me… conflicted? Was I actually happy that bad ponies existed? No, that couldn’t be.
“Raiders? There aren’t that many of them, compared to how many normal ponies there are, but there’s way too many anywho. Plus there doesn’t seem to ever be an end to them. I guess some ‘good’ ponies just need enough time till they eventually go raider.”
“I take the monetary incentive of bounties isn’t enough to get rid of them. Makes it seem like there’s more of them than you let on,” I commented. Something wasn’t adding up, here.
“Like I said, it’s mostly that they just keep coming back. Most ponies just avoid them, and the bounties only start stacking up when a band of raiders gets in the way of somepony’s business. Like, if they camp alongside an important trade route.”
Why did he put a bounty on the train station raiders, then? “So you think the route south of here is important? How come?”
“Oh no, it’s just that a group of scavengers I know went to Hollow Shades and never came back. I’m hoping nothing happened to them, and that they’re simply stuck there.” He shrugged. Hope always dies last, huh?
“Couldn’t they just go around them? I’m pretty sure the forest is dense enough that they could just not get noticed.”
“That would be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Around Detrot, you never go into the forest deeper than a few metres. It’s almost as bad as the Everfree.” Another name I recognised from History.
We sat in silence for a while, and I took a sip of my tea. Despite its horrid taste, the warmth was nice. “How often do travellers come by?”
“On average I’d say I get one caravan every other day. There’s even a pony upstairs at the moment. He’s been here for a few days already, but the nearest settlement to the east is pretty far, so I can’t blame him for resting up properly before trying to get to ND.”
“Why, is it particularly hard to get there?”
“Not really. It’s just that, like everywhere along the tracks, settlements are few and far between, so you need at least two days to get there.”
Our conversation continued for maybe an hour, until a white bar blinked into existence on my EFS, followed by a shout that echoed throughout the icy air. “Iron!” I turned my head to see Candy, standing in the middle of the road leading to the drawbridge.
Next to me, Stockpile muttered. “Do all stable ponies have a hard time understanding that you shouldn’t shout in a ghoul-infested neighbourhood?” He stood up and started walking to the bridge’s control booth. Right after, a few red dots appeared behind her, and ghouls walked out from corners and holes they’d been hidden in.
As Stockpile noticed them, he stopped in his tracks. “What?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, but my policy is to never lower the bridge while there is a chance of a feral crossing it. It’s how I keep myself safe.” On the other side, Candy had noticed the ghouls and was running towards the bridge.
“Are you just going to let her die, then?”
“I have done similar things, and I will do it again if it means I get to survive, I’m sorry about your friend.”
Fine. I would do this my way, then. I had enough shots to take down five of them. There were three ghouls. I walked to the riverbed’s ledge, and floated out my rifle, and clicked into SATS. No matter what I targeted, the odds weren’t great. Sixty percent for a torso shot? I cancelled the spell.
I took a deep breath, trying my hardest to calm down. I closed my left eye and aimed down the barrel, aligning it with a head. My telekinesis moved the rifle back and forth by the slightest amount, just enough to throw off my aim. There was no way I could focus on my telekinesis and aim at the same time, so I simply held my breath. My weapon much steadier, I pulled the trigger. One down, two to go.
Scratch that, three, no, four, to go. Scratch that again, six. My friend fumbled for her shotgun, and a ghoul ran up to her. She blocked a hit with her PipBuck, and to my surprise the device didn’t even seem to take any damage. My target now stationary and much closer to me, I had no trouble lining up another headshot. I saw Candy click her SATS button, and watched her shotgun tear through another two ghouls. Another one ran up to her, and was met by a swift and powerful buck to the head, and the crack reached even me. Despite how dangerous she was, their numbers simply kept growing.
The pink mare shocked me by throwing her shotgun across the gap, then jumping. Even as athletic as she was, she couldn’t jump a distance like that, and so she fell into the water. My heart sunk momentarily as she disappeared under the surface. Then, to my surprise, she resurfaced and didn’t seem to have any issues fighting the current and swimming. Just how fit was this mare? When did she even learn to swim?
She made it more than three quarters across when she started having more difficulty fighting the flow. I snapped out of my amazement and wrapped my telekinetic aura around her saddlebags and lifted as hard as I could. My horn illuminated everything around me, and I could see the reflection of my horn in Stockpile’s wide eyes, shining like an overvolted red light bulb.
I wasn’t able to lift her out of the water, but now much lighter, she quickly reached our side. A ghoul jumped in after her, and was immediately swept away and promptly disappeared under the agitated water. With my help, the shivering Candy climbed up the riverbed. Stockpile called out to us. “Quick, get inside!” We entered the building with him.
The mild smell of old wood hit my nostrils, similar to Spark’s hut, but without the dust. I noticed many pieces of paper tacked onto a wall across from the entrance, but paid them no mind for now. The buck led us to an electric heater, and I helped Candy out of her drenched saddlebags and barding. As I draped my quilt over her, she finally spoke up, teeth chattering, “C-c-c-cold.”
“You’re a tough one, miss, I’m genuinely impressed,” Stockpile admitted enthusiastically. “Most other ponies would not have survived that. The cold water makes your body stiffen, and even strong swimmers would struggle in the current. And that kick… wow” Yeah, and she wouldn’t have had to risk her life if it weren’t for your stubbornness. I wanted to say this outloud really badly, but I feared it wouldn’t accomplish anything other than sow trouble.
Then, he turned to me. “And you! That was some impressive shooting! Nothing unheard of, but I’ve never seen someone your age shoot this well!” Wait, that counted as good aim? I’d needed a good ten seconds to line up that first shot.
“Thank you, sir. I suppose it’s the effect of having a rifle as my cutie mark,” I replied calmly, despite my anger. I wanted to hurt him for endangering Candy, but I also perfectly understood why he’d acted the way he did.
“After a performance like that, any shadow of skepticism is gone about you killing those raiders. I almost wish I could just pay you the bounty right now.”
The budding feeling of self-confidence grew into proper pride as I answered, “Told you I did it. Wasn’t even particularly hard; I wouldn’t even have gotten hurt if I hadn’t let my guard down.” I could feel a smug grin on my muzzle, but could not suppress it. “Although, if I may ask… How come you can’t pay out my reward?”
“I already paid the bounty to Gust, in New Detrot. You can get it from him. The bounty actually came from my personal fund, and I’m just not willing to pay more than fifty caps for that.” This pony was brutally selfish and completely honest about it. Somehow, I couldn’t stay angry at him.
He left to bring Candy a cup of tea, and it was then I noticed her expression of shock and disappointment. When he exited the building, she finally voiced her mind, “H-how are you so nonchalant about killing those three ponies? I d-didn’t w-wanna bring it up because I thought it was a deeply traumatic experience for you. And yet h-here you are openly discussing a bounty for them.” Heck. Candy did believe I was innocent. I didn’t dare imagine how utterly disgusted she would be with me if she found out I’d actually enjoyed killing them.
“I’m sorry, I’m just a bit pragmatic. I killed them in self-defense.” That part was true. “And I happen to want the bounty, because why refuse it? Just because I would have avoided killing them if I could have?” I wasn’t sure how true this part was, however. “Besides, they were bad ponies, I helped out a lot of people in the long run by getting rid of those three.”
She sighed, still shivering, and replied, “I s-suppose you d-do make a point. It’s j-just sh-shocking to hear my baby cousin talking so p-proudly about the po-ponies she’s killed.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I guess I just shouldn’t be expecting stable morals to translate perfectly to the Equestrian Wasteland, huh.” Weren’t you the one who threatened a pony at gunpoint for a healing potion or two? Then again, that potion had saved my life, so I didn’t feel like complaining.
Stockpile returned, holding the kettle by its handle with his mouth. I added this situation to the already long list of things that made me glad I was a unicorn. He poured her a cup, and she practically threw the cup at her face. Unlike me, she did not even attempt to hide her disgust, but just like me, she kept drinking the liquid just for its heat.
I walked around the lobby a bit, approaching the wall of paper. On the side, a sign read, “Wall of Shame — Vandalise my inn, and I’ll put a bounty on your head.” I noticed that the twenty or so sheets of paper all read “Wanted Dead”, and the pony’s name as well as a physical description of them, and then the reward. At the bottom, a text said, “Wanted for vandalising my inn” or “Wanted for refusing to pay up”. Prices ranged from ten caps to several hundred. All of them had a red stamp over them that read “Claimed”.
“Admiring my collection? That’s what happens to idiots who mess with my inn.” He laughed, and I let out a small giggle. “I have a few free rooms, so I’ll let you stay at one for free tonight. It’s the least I can do after causing you so much trouble. Just don’t tell my other guest, he wouldn’t appreciate it.” After a short pause, he added, “But you’re paying for the food and heating power. I can’t afford to give those away.” Well, aren’t you generous?
“H-how much?” stuttered my pink companion. “W-we d-don’t have much.” She blurted out that last part really fast, apparently
Stockpile replied, “Nine caps for a night of power to your room. Seven for breakfast.”
Caps? I glanced over to Candy, and met her confused gaze, confirming that she didn’t understand either. Oh, so it was option number four; bits had been replaced by another currency. He meant bottlecaps. I had those! I pulled them out—Celestia bless the PipBuck’s autosort spell—and handed nine of them to the buck. Right now, heat took priority over food, and we could only afford one of those two.
These ponies actually used those as currency. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with bits. Though admittedly my stable didn’t only use bits either—we had chips that were worth hundred, thousand, and ten thousand bits, respectively.
He took the bits—correction, he took the caps—and motioned us to the stairs. Candy looked puzzled, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she just followed me as I walked up the stairs, feeling the air get colder with each step. Stockpile led us to a room with two twin beds and its own electric heater plugged directly into the wall socket. It was even colder than in the hallway, but still noticeably warmer than outside. When he finally closed the door behind us, Candy asked in a whisper, “What kind of trouble did he cause you? If he did anything like your father, I’ll… I’ll…”
I just shook my head. “No, he meant you. He refused to lower the bridge when he noticed there were ghouls behind you.”
“Wait, so the drawbridge is still functional? Why wouldn’t he—I suppose it makes sense. I had much better odds surviving the river than he a horde of… What did you call them earlier?”
“Ghouls.”
“Yeah, those. Still, I’m still a little hurt he was willing to just let me die right then and there…” I understood perfectly how she felt. I really couldn’t condemn him for not sacrificing himself. The radiator gave a small click, and a lamp turned on. Candy immediately walked up to it, sitting down in hopes of basking in the warmth once it was heated up.
She and I chatted idly for less than an hour before running out of topics. I pulled out my book and magazine collection, and offered them to her. She chose the detective novel I’d been reading in the morning. I told her that if she caught up, we might be able to read the rest together. Then, I opened the magazine about spell matrices; I didn’t really want to start a new novel before finishing one, and I was still not in the mood for the dry walls of text I would find in the Big Book of Arcane Science; especially not with my pulsing headache. Before too long, Candy left the room, saying she wanted to talk to Stockpile some more. I simply left the adults to their business.
Done with my magazine, I made my way downstairs, where I found Candy and Stockpile playing chess. It wasn’t a game I knew much about; I was familiar with the rules, having played with Candy during my early foalhood. But once she stopped coming around as much, we never touched a board again. Without anypony to play with, I’d naturally lost interest.
“So lemme get this straight,” she said. “You’re telling me that leaving east or west is guaranteed death by hypothermia?”
“Correct. Everywhere along the tracks is too far to reach within a day, and you’ll just freeze to death if you’re out at night. If it were just you, you might be able to walk sixteen hours straight until you reach New Detrot, but I doubt the little one would be able to keep up.” I wanted to protest, but he was right. I just wasn’t made for physical effort. Well, that was what Mother had been telling me, and I was very much inclined to agree.
“Do you have any suggestions, then?” asked Candy.
“You could stay here and scavenge until you make enough caps to buy a tent or a small wagon from the traders that come by. Though I couldn’t just let you stay in a room for free for more than a day. Business principles, I hope you understand.”
“Well… Could we maybe help around? I’m a trained security pony, and I’m sure Iron can make herself useful in some way, too. She has really strong telekinesis, and is very bright, especially for her age.”
“Can’t say I need any help running the place, and I don’t think I can afford security, really. Though if what you’re saying is true, you’ll have no trouble finding work in New Dee.” He shook his head. “Look, I think your best bet would be to camp out in one of the abandoned houses, and scavenge around the ghoul-infested part of town. It’s very dangerous, and it’s why you might actually find some valuables,” explained the buck.
“Are there really no other options? After today, it feels like suicide to mess with ghouls.”
“Well… I could think of one more possibility, and it’s a lot safer. It would involve… helping out lonely stallions.”
Candy gasped and stood up. “How dare you suggest that‽” she cried out, apparently offended by the old buck’s proposition. I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. I’d ask her later.
“Look, I’m sorry, miss. I’m just… giving you options, is all.”
A throat was cleared next to me, and I screamed in panic. All the eyes in the building were suddenly on me, including those of the jet black earth pony stallion who’d walked up next to me without me ever noticing his presence. Realising the embarrassing situation I was in, I quickly apologised, “I’m sorry, sir, you startled me.”
He gave a low chuckle and said, “Oh I’m sorry, miss. I do have a habit of unwittingly startling ponies with my light step.” While talking, he moved a strand of his silvery grey mane out of his face, revealing light blue eyes. His voice was melodious, smooth, and confident, and yet it wasn’t soothing in the slightest. Every word that left his throat sent shivers of terror down my spine. I did not understand why, but this stallion scared me.
He turned towards the ponies in the main room and spoke up, “I seem to have overheard your conversation about your predicament.” My coat stood on edge. “I happen to be going to Detrot, and I have a wagon large enough for three.”
Candy’s eyes briefly lit up, before darkening again as she asked, “Well, how much would it be? We don’t have much money—caps, I mean—at all.”
The stranger chuckled. Now that I was starting to calm down, he didn’t seem as scary. His face showed nothing but kindness, and so did his voice. “Oh please, you shouldn’t worry about that. I’ve been travelling alone since my partner died, and I’d be glad to take you in just for the company of two bright individuals.”
My companion replied almost immediately, “Oh. In that case, we’ll gladly go with you.” I still had my suspicions of the stallion, but if Candy was this eager to accept his offer, it probably meant he was by far our best option. Besides, nothing he had said or done would lead me to believe he was not trustworthy, just a silly feeling that likely just originated from being startled.
“Well, perfect. We’re leaving at dawn tomorrow.”
Nothing I thought could convince me to trust this stallion. Why was she trusting him so easily? I wanted to speak up, but I was just a filly and my opinion meaningless. If I tried to say anything I would just get scolded and told to be quiet while adults are talking. I looked at Stockpile, who seemed neutral about the situation. I guess he really doesn’t care how long we stick around.
Wrapped in my quilt and Candy’s bedroll, I sat on the wagon and watched her mane bob up and down with her steps. Not six hours into our trip, I’d started lagging behind the two, and instead of slowing down, we’d decided we would save time if I was to sit on the cart. My runny nose and frequent sneezes made breathing difficult, which slowed me down further.
Of course, Candy, as energetic as always, offered to pull it. I didn’t weigh much compared to the rest of the carriage, but I still would have felt somewhat guilty if I’d made a relative stranger pull me. I still felt bad for making her pull me, but less so. I glanced over to my right. The plains that had started after Inntation were everywhere north of the tracks. To my left, the same dense pine forest as near Small Empty blocked my view.
The carriage’s wheels were big enough that the rocks laid out between the planks and iron tracks that made up the railroad didn’t make the ride too bumpy. Still, it seemed oddly easy to pull, even when considering Candy’s strength. After all, the wagon was full of the stallion’s merchandise and supplies. Maybe a levitation talisman was helping.
He had told us he was a wandering merchant slash entertainer when Candy had asked him about what he did. I’d been too busy trying to keep up with their brisk pace to really be able to talk. Most of their conversations were superficial small talk, with both parties revealing only rather little of themselves to the other. As expected, the stallion knew we were stable ponies, but didn’t try to lecture us on the dangers of trusting outsiders.
Once I was riding on the cart, I ended up picking up a book instead. Instead of reading only for myself, though, I decided to do so out loud. I would have preferred the one I hadn’t touched yet, but Candy wanted to hear about the detective. Since she was doing me a favour, I figured I would let it go her way. After maybe three hours, I was a little hoarse and decided it was best to stop.
A red bar momentarily appeared on my EFS. I knew it would disappear within a minute, so I didn’t pay it any mind. They had been doing that the entire way, and Candy did not even see them. At first, two days ago, I’d been anxious and scared when I saw them. Now, I was almost hoping to get attacked just to relieve me from the boredom. According to Silver—the earth pony stallion we were now travelling with—the animals around the region respected pony roads and rarely ever attacked outside the forest, but were formidable foes if confronted on their own territory. It had me wondering how the raiders had gotten themselves in that fight. Maybe one of them had dragged it out. Quickly, boredom overtook me once more, and I started considering my options for entertainment.
I’d been reading so much the past few days, and none of my books felt interesting. If I were back in the stable, I would have been moving my desk underneath the duct. Talking to Candy sounded fun, but I couldn’t figure out where to start. Maybe I could mention life in the stable? Yeah, that sounded like a good start. After a brief think, I asked her, “So… you mentioned training, so I wonder… what did they teach you?”
“Well, mostly hoof-to-hoof combat, as well as gun maintenance and use, but also a few spells. There’s this hoofcuff spell I know, but I need a few seconds to cast it. I also had to do lots and lots of physical exercise. They made us lift weights and run several dozens of laps around the track every day.”
I gulped at the idea of running that much. I suspected I could train myself up to that level eventually, but my body wasn’t made for it, so I had a natural disadvantage. “So you got to mess around with rifles?” Switching to a topic I was actually talented in was probably a good choice. Maybe that way the conversation would flow more naturally.
“I did, but I never liked them much. Aim training is hard when every detail past five or so metres blurs in with the rest.”
“I never knew you had bad vision,” I commented. She’d never mentioned it.
“Me neither, until I entered the shooting range. I thought it was normal that I couldn’t see that far, and in most of the stable, it was not a big issue.”
“Did you never get glasses?”
She laughed nervously. “I diiiiid, but I accidentally broke them. I could have gotten a new pair, but I didn’t like wearing them anyway. It’s not like I really needed them, it just prevented me from properly using rifles. I prefer hoof-to-hoof anyway; much less lethal and much better at suppressing a pony. Besides, as far as weapons go, I think shotguns work better in most situations.” I had a hard time understanding why she would willingly have worse vision, but then again, I also had a hard time understanding how she could get through that much physical training. Our conversation derailed and eventually quieted down.
I was back to square one, and I didn’t know what to do. Deciding to mess around with my PipBuck, I switched to the radio tab, and selected one of the two stations that my PipBuck detected. This one was labelled ‘New Detrot News radio’. Immediately, a pleasant female voice filled the atmosphere.
“—Frozen Graveyard. It is currently unknown whether the ghouls living there are responsible for the disappearances, but we advise avoiding the town until further information is available.”
The voice paused for a moment, and there was the tiniest click. “Slavers have been spotted north of the Marey metro junction, so we would advise avoiding the area for the time being. For those of you meaning to go scavenging in Old Detrot, this leaves you with two paths. Taking the blue line is still not recommended unless you own a hazardous material suit, while the train tracks are to be avoided if travelling in groups of less than four. The S’lees that made their home in the area only attack small groups of ponies. You can always band together with other groups to make the trip safer for everypony.”
Another break, followed by another small click. “Today’s first good news, everypony.” Did I imagine it or did she sound less professional? “According to Stockpile, somepony cleared out the raiders near Foal Mountain station. He wasn’t able to check it himself, but later today we should have confirmation.” Pause, click. “An update on the Foal Mountain station. We have confirmed the situation, and the railway between New Detrot and Hollow Shades is once again safe to travel.”
Click. “You’re listening to the New Detrot news station.” Click. “Multiple reports indicate ponies disappearing around Frozen Graveyard. It is currently unknown whether the ghouls living there are responsible for the disappearances, but we—” I turned off the radio.
Lifting my gaze, I noticed Candy staring back at me, looking… proud. I’d done a good thing, hadn’t I? Her earlier comments had left me conflicted, but now I was sure.
I looked at my PipBuck again, and the ‘data’ tab caught my attention. I’d downloaded a whole lot of logs, hadn’t I? There was a lot of them, and I had a lot of time. I started reading, and as I made my way through the first log, I noticed it was very mundane. It was simply some employee talking about their day, and about things that went well and others that didn’t.
The second log was similar, though this time she also talked about issues outside of work. Her buckfriend was giving her trouble. She didn’t like cleaning, and he liked having their apartment in mint condition.
The seventh and eighth were similar, but she did mention that her parents wanted her to finally get married and have foals—was being married a requirement for having foals?—while she wanted to live her life at her own pace.
As I read through the entries, I became oddly familiar with the mare’s life. Part of me felt bad, but I also needed to read something to entertain myself.
In this log, she was talking about how much more boring work had gotten since the privatization of Foal Mountain. How almost nopony except the owner and his family came around anymore. How she didn’t understand how a pony could be rich enough to buy a mountain.
Many diary entries later, she wrote about Stable-Tec employees and how they now made up the majority of the travellers that came to the station.
Even later, she mentioned how a town was being built over night, and that suddenly so many construction workers came around the train station.
Eventually, I arrived at the date the bombs fell, several years after the first entry. This entry was much darker. It was a mare expressing her dying thoughts and the regrets of her life. She regretted not having had any children. She regretted having such a rocky relationship with her parents. She regretted never applying for a different job and staying in this hell-hole where she was paid to read books and pass time, because nopony ever came around.
A gust of wind chilled me through the thick blankets, snapping me out of my thoughts as I shivered. I turned my attention to the track ahead, noticing how dark it had gotten. Even though the fog was much thinner today than the two previous days, with the quickly dimming light it was starting to get difficult to see very far. “Shouldn’t we be stopping soon?” I asked, voice cracking.
“Why yes, good idea, Iron Sonata,” said the buck without a hint of irony, turning to look at me. “I was just thinking so myself. Maybe a clearing where we could set up a campfire and cook some food. I’d just prefer to be as far away as possible from the forest.” I nodded, and silence fell on our group again.
Unsurprisingly, we quickly found one of the small clearings that had been littering the side of the railway, and stopped there. Deciding to leave the wagon on the tracks, Silver delved into it, and came out with a large cooking pot on his back. Inside it, I could see tools I suspected were useful for starting fires, firewood, and cans of vegetables he was planning on using for the stew. “You two can stay inside until the fire is lit. While it isn't much warmer in there, there is at least no cold wind. I shall call you over when the fire is started and the embers hot enough to sit around comfortably.”
Following his suggestion, Candy climbed the few steps that led into the wooden cart, turning on her PipBuck lamp, and I did the same. Inside, a central aisle led between two sets of shelves mounted against the walls. Another ladder allowed a pony to climb into the hammock, hanging more than a pony height above the floor. I understood why it was most logical to place it there, but suspected a fall from that height would not be a nice experience.
“I guess he’ll be sleeping in his hammock, and we can just sleep on the floor,” Candy told me. She undid her saddlebags and put them below the shelves after pulling out her blanket. I followed her example, tucking away my harness alongside our bags. Without the wind to chill me through my blanket, I felt comfortably warm.
I let myself simply enjoy the comfort for ten minutes, before Silver called out, “The fire’s started, you can come out.” Candy and I perked up, and walked out into the plain, where a small fire was crackling idly underneath the pot, a few metres away from the cart. The food smelled good, despite not being close to ready yet. The two of us sat down next to each other, opposing the black buck.
“While we wait for this to heat up, why don’t you tell me about yourselves? I would be very happy to share some facts about myself, too.” He smiled across the fire. “What are your cutie marks, how did you get them? I’m sorry if this is a generic question, but I am not too sure where to start,” he said, his smile turning sheepish.
Before I had a chance to really speak up, Candy started talking, “Mine’s a candy cane wrapped in bandages. I received it when I realised how much I loved caring for ponies, or just helping them in general. A filly in my class ended up cutting her leg, and I bandaged it. The feeling of being helpful and of receiving gratitude really influenced my actions ever since.” Her face had that serene smile of hers that could calm even the harshest of storms.
They both turned to look at me. As excited as I was to have a cutie mark, I did not like talking about getting it, but it would have been rude to not share. “Well mine is just a rifle. I got it when I first fired a pistol three days ago, I realised how interesting everything about them is. There’s not much more to it than that.”
Silver then shocked me with his next words. “You just love the way they splatter ponies’ brains, don’t you?” I gasped in consternation. H-how did he know that? Why did he have to say it in front of Candy? How could I respond to this? I needed to… laugh it off? Act offended and deny it? Pretend it was a joke and run along with it? Before my brain could fry itself trying to talk me out of this situation, he added, “I’m just kidding, of course. Firearms are indeed fascinating, though I can’t say I’ve ever been that good with them.”
“What about you?” asked the security pony.
“Well, it’s a bit of a long story, so I’ll skip the details. A colt accused me of stealing his plush bear, and all evidence did point to me. I negotiated my way to innocence, and earned my mark by realising I could talk myself out of almost anything.” He pointed to his flank, where two snakes wound around a winged rod. “It’s a caduceus, an ancient symbol for eloquence.”
“Oooh,” awed Candy. “I thought it was related to medicine.”
“Fairly common misconception. The only thing they have in common is the nonviolent resolution of conflict. Eloquent stallions do not need to hit their enemies to defeat them.” A shiver ran down my spine.
He stirred the pot and let out a content sigh. He took three bowls out of his bag and filled them, then said. “Dinner is served. Do forgive my rather basic cooking.” He placed the bowls on the side of the fire, where we could see them and reach with telekinesis. Finally an earth pony who understood he didn’t need to bring them to us, just into our line of sight.
I took mine, and as I lifted my spoon, my stomach churned. Why did I suddenly lose appetite? I’d been hungry all day. Next to me, Candy was chowing down on her food. I lifted the spoon and smelled the nice aroma of the food. It smelled so nice, and yet… I was salivating out of nausea, not appetite. I put it into my mouth and swallowed. Appetite or no, refusing to eat was not a good idea.
After a while, I took another spoonful, and then another. It seemed eating slowly had fixed my appetite issue, and I found myself delighted by the food. The warm glow in my stomach also made me realise I was sleepy. It was still a bit early, but I had been waking up very early these past few days, so it made sense.
We were lucky to have found such a great pony so early. Travelling with him would make our life so much easier, and we’d get to eat proper food, and not conserved apples and preserved snacks. It was almost too good to be true.
Stockpile’s words echoed in my mind.
“Oh,” I whispered as my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open.
I awoke to whimpers, pathetic and heart-wrenching. “P-please, s-stop…” I heard Candy beg. Hearing this much distress in her voice chilled me to the bone, much colder than the frigid night air ever could.
“Oh please. Certainly you didn’t actually believe that I was letting you travel with me for free; that I was letting you eat my food at absolutely no cost? This is naught but payment,” Silver replied, a familiar tone of sadism in his voice. As I was coming to, I realised that I was lying on my stomach, with my head facing right.
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to get up, find my pistol, and turn the ground crimson. It was then I realised I was bound, and that the ropes were pressing painfully deep into my legs. I dared open my eyes. In front of me lay a terrified Candy, tears welling in her eyes and running down the sides of her muzzle. Her lower jaw trembled, and tiny sobs were escaping her mouth. Her head rested on her hooves, also bound. “W-why n-not tell us? W-we could have f-found a way. S-some payment,” wept the pink mare.
On top of her stood Silver Tongue, a smug grin plastered on his face. In the dark, his eyes had a terrifying malicious glint to them.
I needed my gun, but I knew it wasn’t here. I’d left it inside the wagon where I couldn’t reach. I could see the cart, but like an earth pony in a cage, I couldn’t pick up anything inside the carriage. I needed something. A hammer, a screwdriver, a broken shotgun. Anything at all. Nothing could be found; even the stones he’d placed around the fire were gone. He knew about telekinesis. He knew to keep anything that could act like a blunt weapon out of reach.
The stallion chuckled menacingly. “Oh, my dear innocent cumrag, don’t you know? This is just vastly more fun. Why else would I wait until you woke up?” He licked her neck and thrust forward. She let out a scream of pain. I couldn’t really see it, but I could feel it. I’d been there before. Flashes of awful memories with Concerto filled my mind, and fury flared. “Oh, don’t be so loud, it hurts my poor ears,” he said in his normal, almost sing-song voice. Then it turned ice cold as he added, “Scream again, and I’ll kill you and sell the child to Red Eye.”
If only I knew more magic. If only I knew that hoofcuff spell. Or teleportation. Or a knock-out spell. Or an anesthetic spell. All I knew was how to polish stupid metal.
No, that wasn’t quite right. I knew a spell, but I’d never used it on such a long distance. I stared at the wagon again and tried to remember where exactly my screwdriver was. I focused my magic, remembering the specific patterns I needed. This spell wasn’t very useful when your magic was your screwdriver, but conjuring a tool was a must for anypony working in maintenance. The spell fizzled, and my head throbbed in response. I wasn’t used to the spell, and the combination of head trauma and whatever drug I’d ingested made it so much harder. What could I do? I had to act quick, but I also needed time to recover from the backlash. I was doomed. No, Candy was doomed. Still, I was lucky he hadn’t noticed the light red glow.
I hurriedly looked over the cart, desperately trying to find anything that could help me out here. My panicked gaze settled on a portion of sky above the wagon that looked… different. It wasn’t just pitch black. No, many tiny white dots littered this small area. Stars. They were… stunning… gorgeous… calming. Candy’s pathetic squeals and the rest of the world faded away as my mind was drawn to the idyllic hole in the clouds.
I snapped back to reality, and the noises coming from my left brought back my fury in a flash. This was not the time to contemplate the beauty of the universe, but it had cleared up my head enough to attempt the conjuration spell again. I channeled my magic once more, this time no longer trying to constrain the flow. My surroundings grew increasingly redder, and I finished the spell, releasing my magic. Immediately, the cross-head screwdriver I’d stolen from the stable appeared in my telekinetic grasp with an audible ‘pop!’. Silver Tongue heard it and turned to me, immediately starting to move.
Acting quickly, I jammed the tool into his veiny neck right as he ran to me, closing the gap in less than a second. He kicked me in the ribs, sending me reeling on my back. My world exploded with pain, making me lose my magic grip on the screwdriver poking through his neck. I howled in pain and immediately regretted breathing out.
He lifted his leg, getting ready to stomp. By the way he was leaning, I could tell that he wasn’t going to just hit me, that he wanted to put his entire weight in this. That he was about to turn my head to paste. I wanted to lift my forelegs above my face, but they were still bound.
Suddenly, right before he could kill me, my tool was enveloped with purple magic, pulled out and thrust through his neck again. When it was removed immediately afterwards, blood sprayed out everywhere in front of him, staining my coat red. A spurt of it landed on my tongue right before he fell over, presumably dead.
Huh, so everypony’s blood tastes just like mine.
My gaze shifted back to the blot of stars, then turned to black as I lost consciousness.
Footnote:
New Perk: Thorough study — You may or may not be the fastest on the uptake, but when you do learn something, you know it well.
Perk Refreshed: Conjure tool — You can teleport any simple tool whose location you know to yourself. This is limited to basic tools with easy to remember designs. Maximum range is three times your INT score in metres.
New Perk: <ERROR: MISSING DATA> — <ERROR: MISSING DATA>.
Chapter 5 — New Detrot
Author's Notes:
Google Docs Link should you want it.
Special thanks to my editor, EverfreePony, and my main pre-reader and basically-co-author, SnakeEye
New Detrot
I woke up on a comfortable mattress. Nothing like the scratchy, dusty, or rock-hard stuff I’d been sleeping on the past few nights. Well, Stockpile’s mattress hadn’t been terrible, but it wasn’t as comfortable as this. I opened my eyes to almost complete darkness. I could make out a ceiling and a shelf. Where was I? I tried to turn on my back and regretted being alive. My “mattress” moved with me, and the way I moved to stabilise myself sent nails of pain through my entire left side. I felt tears well in my eyes, and that was what it took to make me remember last night.
I turned on my PipBuck light and tried to figure out my surroundings properly. I immediately knew I was in his wagon, but I didn’t know why. The restraints on my hooves were gone, and all that remained of them was slight soreness where they’d dug in. In the corner, I spotted a small magic lamp and turned it on. Trying to find Candy, I looked below the hammock, but she wasn’t anywhere in the small room, and I was worried. I knew we’d killed him, but I had no idea what had happened afterwards. Oh, I hope she’s alright, I mentally pleaded.
Luckily for me, a single white bar stood proud on my EFS, and that left me with at least somewhere to start looking. I gritted my teeth as I got off the hammock and onto the ladder. Once on it, it wasn’t nearly so bad, but every time I had to turn my torso, the pain came back like a hot knife through my chest. At least my headache was mostly gone. Or maybe it was just overshadowed.
I winced as I placed my hooves on the ground. Couldn’t I go two days without some kind of painful injury? Above me, my jumpsuit hung on a wire strung between the two sets of shelves, stained carmine where his blood had landed. My own coat was not in any better state, caked in dried blood from now three different sources. I touched my face—grimacing as the motion twisted my torso—and felt dried blood sticking to my fur and mane. I already had had bits and pieces of that raider’s brain stuck in there. However, the quantity paled in comparison to how much there was now. It was like a layer of mud, glueing most of my mane together.
For the first time, I genuinely felt dirty. I wasn’t mildy sweaty after a short run. My mane wasn’t slightly greasy because I forgot shampoo in my last shower. No. I was covered in dried blood and brains. I also had literal mud in my fur, but that was insignificant in comparison.
I put my muzzle up to my foreleg’s fur and took a sniff. I reeked; the smell of old blood as well as fresh, coupled with rotting sweat nearly made me gag. My body was permanently damaged, and temporarily dirty. It felt so incredibly wrong after a lifetime of cleanliness.
I snapped out of my reverie. Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity about the deplorable state of my body. I opened the door, momentarily blinded by the outside’s light, and found myself face to face with my newly discovered worst enemy: a ladder. The wagon hadn’t moved, and, to my left, Candy had relit the fire and was sitting in front of it, perfectly still, facing away from me. I doubted she even noticed me.
I held back tears once when I walked down the steps, and again when I walked down the slope. Somehow, Candy still hadn’t noticed me. I approached her until I saw her face. She stared vacantly into the fire, eyelids swollen, and huge bags under her eyes. In other words, she looked like my ribs felt. Additionally, her hooves had deep, furless, angry red gashes where her restraints had been. Just how hard had she tugged on her rope? In front of her lay a small notebook with a black cover. “Candy?” I softly called. She blinked and turned to me. I felt tears well up at how pitiful she looked.
“Oh, it’s morning already.” It was almost noon. She turned back to stare into the fire, and I sat down next to her, blinking the tears out of my eyes. From here, I could read the text in the notebook. The first line was the date of the day before yesterday.
Dear Diary,
Tomorrow I will have fun. As you know, I’ve been staying at Stockpile’s inn for the last few days. I’ve mostly been putting off returning to New Detrot; been feeling too wistful. I’m not sure why, maybe it’s my age starting to show. I’m not as old as that pile of bones Stockpile, but I suppose I’m one of the older ponies in the Wasteland now. I digress.
This mare and her filly—or maybe they are sisters, it’s hard to tell just how old either of them is—arrived at the inn today as well. They’re very clearly freshly out of a stable, and they’re in a difficult monetary situation. My first thought was to promise free passage to New Detrot, then convince the griffins there they’d agreed to pay me and were trying to weasel out. Maybe I could have even sold them off as slaves, as a way to settle their debt towards me.
However, when that dusty old scrotum suggested sex work to the mare, her reaction was priceless. Just the thought of having my way with her was heavenly. Prudes are always the most delightful to break.
Even better—this naïve simpleton immediately accepted. For a moment I thought the filly was going to see through my façade, but she kept her filthy muzzle shut. I do love foals that know their place, they are so much easier to deal with. I suppose I could hand her over to Red Eye for free, to get on his good side, and sell the mare for a premium. Strong and beautiful, has the perfect body for slavery.
I shall keep this short, for I am impatient for tomorrow to come. I’m so excited just thinking about how this innocent mare will beg for mercy.
Yours Truly,
Silver Tongue
When I was done, I was shivering. Not with fear or because of the cold, but with burning, passionate hatred that set off an inferno of fury. I was so angry that I regretted that he was already dead. I wanted to make him suffer and beg for mercy like he wanted Candy to. A mental image filled my mind. Him, legs cut off, dangling above the fire, slowly being cooked to death, screaming for release, terror in his eyes. Maybe I could slice open—
Candy interrupted my fantasy. “You know. The hardest thing about this whole situation is realising that he really did deserve to die.” Back to reality, I realised the atrocity of what I’d been thinking about. What is wrong with me? “I… spent half the night crying. I’d just killed a pony. Not some weird pony-shaped creature that had the strength to cave in my skull.” She sighed, and tears started running down her cheeks. “I lied when I said I would do the same as you in your position. Truth is, I understand why you did it, but still disagree…” confessed the pink mare. “I- I always… thought nopony deserved to die. I thought that, if I were abused, I would somehow forgive my rapist,” she mumbled, jaw quivering.
I listened quietly, leaning against her and stroking her mane as gently as I could with my telekinesis. I wanted to use my hooves, but I knew it would cause me pain, and touching anypony with those filthy hooves didn’t sound like a good idea. “A-and even when I did k-k-k-kill him,” she sobbed, “I still regretted it. I hated him and wanted revenge, but killing him still felt wrong. So fucking wrong. But I needed to save you. That too felt wrong. In a way, I was choosing your life over his.”
“But then I found his diary, and now I can truly say I understand how you felt when you killed Uncle Concerto. Silver Tongue was the most vile, sadistic pile of pony shit to ever walk this planet.” How cold her voice turned shocked me to my core, but I agreed with every ounce of hatred.
“I wasn’t the only one. We weren’t his only victims, just the latest. We weren’t even the worst. I’m genuinely glad things worked out as they did, because otherwise I would never have been able to wipe his pathetic life from Equestria. Even if I did get raped, that’s just going to have to be a scar I’ll have to carry from now on.” I desperately wanted to ask what ‘rape’, meant, but I knew now was not the time. “And now, I know for a fact I made the right choice by choosing your life over his. He deserved to die, and you deserve to live.” She gently embraced me, managing not to hurt my rib.
For a long while, we just sat there, basking in each other’s comfort.
Eventually, Candy spoke up again. “We should get going,” she said monotonically. It was very weird to hear her talking in such a flat voice devoid of happiness. It hurt me to hear it. I was once more filled with anger directed at Silver, but that was drained away as she wearily added, “We’ll eat some apples on the way. You should get on the cart, and I’ll pull it. You’re way too hurt to walk a long distance.”
As I settled at the front of the wagon, careful to avoid stressing my chest, wind chilled me, making me sneeze.
My world exploded in pain, and I thought I would lose consciousness again, but I didn’t. How could a single sneeze hurt so much? I didn’t understand.
The rest of the day crawled by in silence, with neither of us feeling motivated enough to break it. It felt like Candy would never be the same; she was permanently damaged, just like I’d physically been broken. It was painful to think that I was the cause. If only I’d spoken up. If only I’d said anything. Then what? She would have just dismissed me as a dumb child. I know damn well adults don’t care about my opinion. No. Candy wasn’t like that. She genuinely cared about me, didn’t she?
I pushed the thought aside for now. I could always ask her about it later. And then what? “Hey so you were beaten up because I thought you wouldn’t listen to me.” No, I couldn’t tell her about my mistake; it would only bring her pain. Admitting blame to myself was hard enough.
Didn’t I say I pushed the thought aside? I guess it’s just hard to get rid of the guilt. This was all my fault, after all. But was it really? Yes, I could have prevented it. But so could have Stockpile. And so could have Candy, and certainly I was not considering blaming her for this. No, blaming myself didn’t make sense. I could have prevented it. But this didn’t mean I had caused this. No, that was Silver Tongue. He and only he was to blame. What I needed to do, and the only thing I could do, was learn from this.
Never again would I let Candy trust a stranger blindly. Though I suppose she wouldn’t trust anypony blindly anytime soon, either. My bigger mistake was assuming she knew better, even though she clearly had not known better. I had known better, and I could have stopped this. She might be an adult, but she isn’t perfect, and my foalish assumption of the opposite had brought her harm. She protected and looked out for me, and I needed to do the same. I would be the sister she needed right now.
I could tell she was tired by the way she walked. She was much slower than normal, and her gait looked unstable and wobbly. “Hey Candy?” She turned to me without stopping her march forward. “I think we should call it a day soon.”
“Why? We’ve only been on the road for a few hours,” she countered. “If you want, you can try to sleep inside. I’ll get us to New Detrot.”
“I’m not that sleepy, but you seem about ready to keel over.” She had stayed up a long time before, and that had led her to making a very poor decision, albeit one that benefited me. I doubted she would have left the stable and joined me outside had she been fully rested. Now, she was already in a bad place mentally, and the sleep deprivation likely did not help at all.
“What do you mean, I’m fine,” she said right before tripping on a rock and landing face-first onto a wooden plank.
I stood up immediately and regretted the motion just as rapidly. “Are you okay? That looked painful,” I asked, wincing.
Defeated, she turned her head to the right, in direction of the plains, and replied, “You know, I think you’re right. I need to sleep, or I’ll get us both killed.” My heart sank. So she was ready to listen. She would have listened if I told her Silver was suspicious. Shut up, brain. There is absolutely no reason to feel this way now. There’s nothing I can do to fix it now, so please shut up! Stop making me feel terrible…
“It’s just…” she continued. “I’m not sure I want to sleep after this. I took a nap earlier, but woke up from a nightmare. At least when I’m awake he can’t hurt me anymore.” She let out a heavy sigh. My ribcage hurt at the thought of sighing like that. Meanwhile, her words wrenched my heart. You poor thing… “But I suppose it won’t help if I hurt myself instead. Let’s stop for the day.”
The area around the tracks was much flatter this time, so we took the opportunity to liberate the passage in case any other caravans wanted to get by. Candy disappeared inside the wagon while I suggested I stay outside and look out for trouble. There was no reason to believe we were in immediate danger, but I preferred taking the safer option. After all, what was to stop raiders from taking the tracks, too?
I still had a few hours to kill before sunset, and before I would get sleepy again. I climbed onto the wagon to have a better view and started killing time by disassembling and reassembling my rifle. It didn’t take as long as the first time, but that just gave me more opportunities to marvel at how amazing this work of engineering really was. Even rusted and barely functional, it was still gorgeous. After I was done, instead of harnessing it, I decided to use the gun to practice telekinetic steadiness. After all, aiming a rifle would probably be the one application that benefitted the most from stability.
Eventually, I got bored of staring down a rifle and keeping it as immobile as possible. On the bright side, it was starting to come more naturally to me. Still not “second nature”, like the magazine had described, but it was slowly getting easier. Or so I thought. I really couldn’t tell without a side-by-side comparison.
Because of my magic training, I was finally motivated enough to finally delve into the Big Book of Arcane Sciences. Unlike The Mechanical Marvels of Firearms, this book was more like a lexicon. Well, a compendium to be more exact. What this meant in practice was that each section was mostly unrelated to other sections, and that I could start anywhere and read up on any topic.
I glanced over the summary, a few topics and sub-topics catching my attention. I was trying to figure out where to start when I saw a subject that I had been meaning to explore—teleportation. The category it was found in was labelled ‘Superspells’. Curious about what those were, I opened that page first.
“Superspells are, as the name suggests, bigger, more powerful spells. There are two factors that can make a spell ‘super’: complexity and power requirements. Oftentimes a superspell is both complex and power-draining. The category of superspells was until recently not well defined, and any spell that was technically difficult to perform could be labelled as such. Over the past two decades, significant strides in magical research allowed the mathematically robust formalisation of the definition of a superspell, leading to the current definition:
A superspell is an arcano-technical construct requiring more than 500AOpC (Arcane Operations per Cast). This seemingly arbitrary limit was chosen as a rough approximation of the cutoff at which a standard ruby-amethyst spell-matrix would consistently outperform an average unicorn.
Unfortunately, due to word count constraints, this book will not delve into the details of what constitutes a single Arcane Operation. For the avid reader, we can only highly recommend Prof. Sunburst’s thesis that led to this entire field of research.”
Were superspells related to megaspells? I checked the book’s publishing date, and found that it had been written many years before the official announcement of megaspells’ existence. I shrugged and, satisfied with this definition, found the section about teleportation.
Teleportation. Believed to have been originally invented by Starswirl the Bearded, this spell allows a unicorn to cross vast distances in the blink of an eye — leading to one of its casual nicknames, the ‘blink’. In its original version, only the most magically adept unicorns managed to learn and master it, while the contemporan one is accessible to most unicorns interested in the topic.
The recent version, invented and formalised by Prof. Sunburst, utilises modern arcano-mathematical theory to create a spell that is easier to learn, more efficient, and safer than its ancient counterpart. Additional failsafes have been built in to prevent users from ending up inside solid objects.
Like with the majority of superspells, the algorithm invented by Prof. Sunburst is the most reliable way to learn it, and is therefore depicted below in arcane code format. However, unlike most arcano-programs, teleportation has self-correcting elements, meaning that a mostly-correct cast will produce a fully accurate result. Alternatively, if the spell-cast is too far from correct, the code will simply prevent the spell from executing.
Prof. Sunburst deemed it a good idea to make the spell more approachable to beginners, giving stronger feedback in the event of an incorrect cast. However, advanced users might think it beneficial to skip the code responsible for error-checking, as it does add a non-negligible cost at cast-time. However, it is highly discouraged to skip those safety measures: they do prevent a pony from materialising inside a wall, or even another pony.
Unfortunately for me, I had no idea how to read or interpret arcane code. It just hadn’t been on my curriculum. Partly because it was fairly advanced magical theory and would thus require a lot of time to learn, but also because, as the future overmare, I had much more important topics to learn about first. Iodine’s words to Mother echoed in my mind. “A damn shame, really. Filly’s got the perfect horn for magic.”
Thus, I looked through the book’s summary once again. I found the keyword I was looking for near the end, as an appendix. “Arcane Code — an Aide-Mémoire” was the section’s title. A small disclaimer read:
This appendix only aims to act as a cheat-sheet for unicorns familiar with arcane code. It does not teach any of the basic concepts. The full concept of arcane code is far outside the scope of this book, and deserves its own book entirely. Fortunately, many such books can be found. At the time of writing, Prof. Sunburst and Dr. Arcane Spark’s Full Guide to Arcane Programming can be regarded as the golden standard on the matter. However, it is worth noting that the author of The Big Book of Arcane Science has plans on publishing a comprehensive guide to magical theory.
Ah. Back to square one it was, then. I wasn’t giving up here, however. The summary table was again under my scrutiny. At the end of the part on superspells, a single title stood out to me. “Learning superspells for the average unicorn”. Sounded promising.
Not everypony has had the opportunity to learn arcane description languages. For this reason, this section has been written to give a few tips and ideas to help unicorns willing to put in the effort to learn difficult spells. Keep in mind that if you find yourself often learning new superspells, you would likely be able to save a lot of time by learning the description language used in this book, commonly referred to as arcane code.
Now, to learn a superspell without knowing what you’re going for would normally be difficult. The normal hoof-wavy techniques do not apply when the spell you are learning is orders of magnitude more difficult than normal spells. A very motivated teacher is therefore required to help you.
I almost gave up right then and there, but was too engrossed with the topic and too bored to stop reading. Who knew, maybe I’d meet a pony able to teach me a few of those ‘superspells’.
That teacher would have to be somepony willing to demonstrate the spell as many times as necessary, in many different situations. The learning unicorn can then easily observe the magical patterns formed. When the student is ready, he or she may start practicing the channel, and have the teacher observe and correct certain patterns.
In practice this proves fairly difficult, which is why telepathy or memory transfer spells may be used to facilitate the process. However, the latter is mostly beneficial during the first phase, and is rarely of help during the second part—the teacher needs to be able to respond immediately or at least very quickly if the student makes a mistake.
Oh, so not everything was lost. I only had one usage to compare to, but I’d felt it many times. It was far from an ideal learning environment, but it did seem feasible to use it to teach teleportation to myself. I turned to my saddlebags, finding the memory talisman. I dreaded watching the entire memory for one short moment, but it was my only option. I wanted to start working on learning the spell immediately, but I knew I needed at least a small refresher on the spell.
On the other hoof, I did not like the idea of leaving myself and Candy vulnerable while I viewed a memory. Then again… I hadn’t seen anypony in several hours, even on the day before, and it was getting fairly late, so most groups would probably stop for the day. Meanwhile, the wildlife, whose red bars still occasionally showed themselves seemed just as unlikely to attack. Screw it, I needed a useful spell, and the sooner I learned it, the better.
As usual, I recorded the time of entering the memory, and compared it with the exit time. Twenty minutes. I was pleased to find my EFS momentarily empty, save for Candy’s bar. Not wanting to waste any time during which I might have forgotten some of the spell, I started channeling magic. Some like this, some like that, no no, that wasn’t quite right. Maybe... The energy gathered at my horn fizzled.
“Ponyfeathers,” I cursed to myself. I needed to try again. So I did, only to fail in a very similar manner. This was going to prove itself even more difficult than originally presumed. I had gotten a bit further. The tricky part was focusing on my magic while attempting to remember what I needed to do next. The easy part was that I knew the spell well enough that I immediately felt it when my magic made a wrong turn. Or maybe that was part of the spell’s error correction?
It took me many more attempts until I was finally able to reproduce most of the spell. I’d stopped counting after the thirty mark, and my headache had reawakened enough to make me consider eating a mint, but I suppressed the urge.
I wanted to think I was pressing on out of sheer willpower alone, but the truth of the matter was that every time I’d taken a break, boredom had eventually overpowered my magical fatigue. Every time, the idea of a final push made me happy to try again and again.
Okay, now this is my final attempt, I told myself for the seventh time. If I fail this, I’m just going to give up for now. Part of me doubted that thought as it crossed my mind. After all, even my headache hadn’t prevented me from constantly retrying.
My surroundings lit up in red as I shoved a large amount of power into my spell. I’d found that channelling more magic than necessary helped the flow of the spell. I suspected Arcane’s cast was a finely-trained, bare minimum cast, while mine was the crude brute force approach.
Lines and corridors gradually formed the labyrinth that made up this spell. I was getting close! Don’t let that distract you. Thankfully, my aside thought didn’t distract me, and the spell continued as intended, until… I had it! This felt right! I let go of the energy I’d gathered, releasing the spell.
Pop!
Had I succeeded? If so, why was everything dark? And why was my EFS suddenly crowded with red bars? Thankfully, none of them seemed to be in my immediate vicinity. Still, if it appeared on my EFS, it was too close. My initial stupor fading, I realised I could hear water whooshing close to me. In the distance, I could hear tiny squeaks and fast-paced clicks, like tiny claws on concrete, but I couldn’t tell if the noises came from the bars.
Given that I had no idea where I was, I focused my telekinesis on nothing in particular, wincing as my magical fatigue caused my headache to spike again. I just wanted a small source of light that wouldn’t overwhelm my eyes like my PipBuck’s flashlight.
I found myself in a semi-circular tunnel, barely large enough for a regular pony to stand in. Of course, being shorter than the average pony, I had ample room to move. In the middle, water flowed along a small canal. On the sides, every few meters a pipe emerged into the channel, water trickling out of it. Was this a sewer? I didn’t understand the purpose, given this place was nowhere near a settlement of any kind. Maybe it helped evacuate excess water from the fields? No matter, I had more pressing issues.
My first idea was to attempt the spell again. Now that I’d succeeded in casting it, that little bit of challenge was gone, and I didn’t like the idea of putting myself through that pain again. A low, growl-like noise echoed through the tunnel. Yeah no, I’m getting the heck out of here.
I’d managed it once, so I couldn’t think of a reason I wouldn’t manage to do it again. As I channelled the spell once more, I managed to follow the pattern exactly, and… the spell failed. Up until the end, the cast had felt correct, but then it had suddenly snapped back like a rubber band. This sensation sent ripples of pain through my fatigued horn, hurting my brain even more. But why? Everything went right… Had I already misremembered? I massaged my horn for a few moments; a futile attempt to make it feel better. Then, I attempted the spell again, only to meet the same painful fate. Why?
Suddenly, the realisation hit me. Oh. Right. I knew how to teleport in a specific direction. But I did not know how to teleport somewhere else. I am such an idiot. That would explain the problem; I’d probably ended up in this tunnel because the fail safes on the spell had adjusted my destination to avoid materialising me in the ground. I gulped. Maybe playing around with teleportation was not the smartest thing to do, especially not without thinking everything through.
I snapped out of my thoughts and looked left to right, trying to find an exit, but saw none nearby. I suppressed a panicky thought that suggested I would be stuck here. I still had options.
In both directions, red bars could be seen. Only two on the right, though, so I picked that direction and started walking, but not before unharnessing my rifle. After a few seconds, a loud “brooooooooaaaap” echoed in the sewer. In the distance, illuminated by my scarlet light, I could see a giant, bloated, brightly coloured frog. Naturally, my first reaction was to put a bullet right through it, putting into practice my aim training.
The shot echoed explosively through the canal, reigniting my headache and proving that my concussion was not, in fact, healed yet. Immediately after, the frog burst, sending bits of itself flying everywhere. The places hit by its innards started smoking and hissing, leaving behind shallow indents. Note to self: don’t be near acid frog things when they die.
To make matters worse, my PipBuck started slowly clicking, and a sharp pain started spreading through my lungs. Ah. Of course the acid strong enough to melt concrete was emitting dangerous fumes. I should have guessed. I didn’t manage to contain a cough, and the following pain in my chest made me hate life.
Behind me, another one of them was rapidly approaching. In front of me, my EFS only indicated one hostile creature. I didn’t like the idea of what I was about to do, but I needed to flee. Fighting more of those toads was not an option.
I took a few steps backwards, and took in a deep breath. I bit my lower lip as my broken rib was moved along with the rest of its cage. Then I ran as fast as I could, through the poison cloud. My eyes stung and my PipBuck clicked wildly as I ran through the poison gas cloud. Above my EFS, a small red number appeared. At its apex, it read “50rads/s”. I only stopped running when it disappeared and the clicking died down entirely.
In the distance, my eyes caught the glint of a ladder leading upwards. My way out! However, a few metres ahead of it stood the frog my EFS had picked up. Killing it was most likely not a good idea, and that only left me with one option.
I braced myself for the pain in my chest, and sprinted past the frog. It simply croaked in response. Thankfully, they weren’t very agile—or maybe just not that interested in me? Whichever it was, I managed to reach the ladder safely. At the top of it, I could see a round metal hatch. With a wince, I started climbing, every rung bringing in another round of pain.Then I felt a sharp burn on my right hindleg.
The frog had wrapped its glowing green tongue around it. With an abrupt pull, it made me lose my grip on the ladder, and I landed on the concrete floor, banging my head. The world went black and the ringing in my ears came back. I snapped back to reality as quickly as I managed, only to realise that I was being pulled towards the frog’s mouth. I only saw one way out of this situation. I lifted my rifle and the tunnel regained its familiar red colouration. I took a deep breath and held it, before pulling the trigger, causing the creature to explode. Holding my breath was made orders of magnitude more difficult by my burning desire to scream as loud as I could, the fiery agony in my chest, lungs, and head enough to blur my vision.
Somehow, the burning in my leg had spread to my nose. My PipBuck clicked. If I wasted another second I would die. I jumped to my hooves, eyes watering from the pain, and head spinning. I just bit my lip in response, and my mouth started filling with the familiar taste of iron.
I practically jumped up the ladder, forcing my telekinesis through the hatch, and ripping it open. Daylight blinded me, and dirt fell in my eyes, but I climbed out. I was safe.
My leg, nose, and lip were bleeding profusely. But I was safe.
My lungs were on fire, burning with every breath I took. But I was safe.
My broken side was pulsing with agony, every heartbeat and breath causing tides of torment. But I was safe.
I lay there for a few more long minutes, marvelling at the fact that I was safe. I couldn’t believe that mere minutes ago, I’d been idly experimenting with magic, fighting boredom as well as I could, and now I was just happy to be alive.
I was safe.
I lay there for Stars knew how long as my PipBuck idly clicked by. Eventually, the clicking started to worry me enough to overcome the physical exhaustion and soreness. That dial being in the yellow could not possibly be a good thing. My lungs hurt, but I managed to hold back coughs as I limped back to the wagon—I’d teleported almost exactly under it, judging by how far I’d needed to run underground.
I painfully climbed onto the back of the wagon and took the time to inspect myself. My stable jumpsuit was tattered where the amphibian had… licked it. Underneath, a crust had formed above the chemically burnt flesh. It looked so much worse than it felt, and it felt absolutely miserable. The only other part of me that hurt in a similar fashion was my muzzle. Some acid had landed there, hadn’t it?
I’d never really liked my facial features so much, but the thought of having a scar—and this was definitely going to scar—in the middle of it… it saddened me. Then, a scarier thought crossed my mind. This thing hadn’t hit my eye, but it had gotten close. Much too close.
While the realisation I’d have a reminder of this frog on me for the rest of my life saddened me… the idea of losing my eye terrified me. I’d always liked my eyes; their vibrant red had always helped me feel… more myself. Even disregarding their beautiful colouration, they were amazing at their primary function. I had vision better than anypony in the stable—Iodine had told me that—and I was proud of that.
I took a deep breath—well, as deep as I managed, anyway—and slowly started calming down, before considering my options. I really wanted to heal myself, but I knew it wasn’t the optimal decision. Those wounds weren’t an immediate threat to me, and we were starting to run low on medical supplies. Although… we hadn’t searched the wagon we’d inherited from our attacker. He probably even had some weapons. I sighed. Well, at least we had supplies now, even though we’d gone through Tartarus—Candy more so than myself—to acquire them.
My mind flashed images of the dimly lit scene. He’d hurt me way more with his simple kick than my father ever had. Why did they even bother doing things so slowly if they could hurt me like that? Maybe Concerto had wanted to avoid breaking ribs, but what reason did Silver have? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. If it were me, I would just have hurt them as much as possible—without killing them, obviously—instead of messing around back there.
My reverie was broken by a gust of icy wind. I decided to call it an early night, and to go to sleep. Falling asleep was difficult, as my leg itched and hurt, but exhaustion took over quickly enough.
I woke up to Candy bandaging my foreleg. I noticed she’d also put a bandaid on my muzzle. She’d taken off my jumpsuit and was rolling the magically imbued cloth around my leg with practiced grace. No—not practiced grace. There was some noticeable hesitation in her telekinesis. I could tell she didn’t have much experience in this, but it came naturally to her, probably just like I was able to aim rifles so well.
“Uughh,” I groaned as I shifted to sit upright, a slight discomfort in my chest.
“Careful,” Candy replied, the slightest tint of worry in her voice. “I cast an anaesthetic spell on your chest and leg. It may not hurt, but you might injure yourself because you don’t notice when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. Not that you should be able to move around easily to begin with.” Yeah, I think fighting frog monsters would be something most physicians would recommend against after a fracture.
“Ah. Any reason you didn’t use it on me yesterday? I could have used it on several occasions,” I complained back.
“Well, like I said, the pain is there to stop you from doing any movements you shouldn’t be doing, and I don’t know any weaker pain-numbing spell. Besides, you’ll find it difficult to move properly. There’s not much you can do about a fractured rib other than giving it time to heal,” she explained in her usual calm and happy voice. “Healing potions might make it mend quicker, but we only had one of those, and it wouldn’t have been a miracle cure.”
“I thought we were out of those? And what do you mean ‘had’?” I interrupted.
“Well, I found some in the cart, but now we’re out again.” I cursed myself for having made her waste our only potion on non-fatal wounds. “As well as a shotgun that I could use as backup if mine ever has any issues. And I don’t think I’ll be running out of shells anytime soon, either.”
“Can I have it? I prefer rifles, but having a backup weapon for close quarters sounds useful,” I chimed.
“Oh, sure, I guess. You’ll just have to be careful not to shoot it if you’re behind me; it’s hard to tell where the pellets will go,” she explained.
“I know, I know,” I reassured her. “Remember, I’m the gun nut here.” I stuck out my tongue at her. I was surprised at how light the mood was, especially compared to the day before. As usual, firearms improved my mood.
Candy giggled playfully. “Now, miss ‘gun nut’, could you please slowly stand up so I can bandage your chest as well? I’ll help you up. I think the magic should speed up your rib’s recovery, if only a bit,” she teased. I wanted to protest, but as the memory of the pain resurfaced, that desire was silenced.
We continued our chat while she wrapped another roll around my midsection, and we eventually ate breakfast—Sugar Bombs. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but both of us wanted to get moving—no point staying here if it was already bright enough to see. We determined it was best if I didn’t try to keep up with her, and so I simply sat down at the front of the wagon again. Candy’s gait was back to being bouncy and happy.
“Hey, Candy, are you okay? You seem awfully peppy, compared to yesterday.” There was no point hiding my worry. It might just lead to her getting hurt again.
“Oh, yeah. I just needed a good night of sleep to reset my system, I suppose. No doubt it will stay with me for a long while, but if I focus on the here and now, I’ll slowly make my way forward and eventually overcome it.” She paused, sighing. “It also helps when I take inspiration from you.”
“From me?” The words left my muzzle before I even had a chance to realise. “Oh right, because my father beat me too. Sorry, spoke too quickly.”
“Well, not just beating, but also…” She stopped herself. I couldn’t see her face, so I couldn’t hope to figure out why. Did she see something and got distracted? I waited a few more seconds before asking.
“But also… what?” I inquired, unwittingly tilting my head to the side.
“The…” she paused, hesitation marking her tone. This silence lasted much shorter than the previous one, however. “Nevermind. Please forget I said anything.”
“But I’m curiooouuus,” I whined. I quickly regretted that decision, as I realised that she probably had a good reason for her words.
Candy stopped walking to turn around and give me a serious look. “I’m sorry, Iron, but I really wouldn’t want to open up that wound for you. And frankly speaking, I would rather prefer to close that book for myself.”
I was still as lost, but at least it felt like she was being real with me. “I understand. Can I ask you one last question about this, though? I think it’s related, but I can’t tell for sure.”
Candy didn’t hide the look of reluctance in her eyes, but after a while she did reply. “I suppose so, if it helps you feel better.”
“What is ‘rape’?” I asked. Given the context, I couldn’t help but feel like I was asking something terrible, but I needed to know.
Her face betrayed her incredulity, then her unease as she momentarily looked for words. After a short while, she answered in a neutral, yet odd tone. “Rape is non-consentual sex.”
“Oooh, I see.” I nodded in understanding, though that left a question. “What’s sex?” I had my suspicion, but I wanted a precise definition.
Candy’s expression turned from slight unease yet overall serenity to complete and utter shock.
What?
During our entire conversation—during which we hadn’t been moving forward—she had been very flustered. I couldn’t understand why one would blush this much when talking about a simple biological function of the equine body. Well, perhaps simple wasn’t the best way to describe it, given the complicated terminology surrounding it, but it definitely didn’t seem like anything to be ashamed of.
I’d often wondered why some stallions were beating their wives during my walks in the stable’s vent system, him on top of her. My mind was dragged to my father, but I quickly shook the thought away.
I hadn’t found anything on the subject within the books we had at our quarters. If it was a requirement in order to produce foals, I could understand why it was done by seemingly loving couples.
During our talk, images of my father momentarily crossed my mind, before being replaced by images of his terrified, ugly face right before I put a bullet thr—
“What I still don’t understand is how your parents never taught you about it. Foals normally get curious and ask something along the lines of ‘where do foals come from’ of their parents,” she pondered.
“I did ask Mother, but she replied that I would learn about it ‘in a few years’ once I tackled biology. When I heard that, I just waited, because there wasn’t much point to rearranging my curriculum.” Well, I had been pretty impatient at first, but eventually I’d gotten over my curiosity.
“That sounds like she just dodged the question. If that’s the case, then that likely means she was an accomplice in what your father did to you.” Candy looked me in the eyes, worry clear on her face.
“Could be,” I shrugged, “but I think she just didn’t want to give me a too general overview of the topic. From what you’ve told me it sounds complicated and would deserve full lessons.” My mind continued wandering around my mental image of the stable and its politics. Those were what really mattered for a future overmare.
“I’m not very convinced, but you do know her better than I do, so I shouldn’t be making assumptions. Still, this is a pretty big thing to completely omit to your child, especially since you likely already had your implant.” My thoughts suddenly landed on Zinc. I must’ve made a face, as Candy asked me, “What? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just that my would-be future husband crossed my mind, and the thought of having sexual intercourse again was not very pleasant,” I replied truthfully.
“Oh.” She gave my neck a nuzzle and gently stroked my mane. “It’s okay, you’re fine now, we’re far from all that.”
She was right. “Yet another reason to be happy we’re out of there,” I remarked.
The lavender pony nodded, then looked puzzled before asking. “What did you mean by ‘future husband’? Were you going to have to take an arranged marriage? With who?” Whom, my mind corrected, but I didn’t say anything.
“Zinc, Iodine’s grandson. Mother never talked to me about it, but it was as clear as the atrium lights that I would need to marry somepony wealthy in order to become the overmare.”
“Who said you had to be overmare?” Candy asked, sounding surprisingly naive.
“Well, my whole education revolved around me taking on that position eventually. Mother did want me to find my own cutie mark, so that I could do something while waiting to take on the role.” Wait, who will be the next overmare after Mother passes? Well, she probably has a plan for that.
“Are there really no other options? Surely you would have had a choice,” wondered my friend.
I just shook my head. “No. Well, it would have been either him or you. Otherwise, there would have been the chance that somepony could take the position from me mid-term.”
Candy looked shocked and appalled. “Me‽”
“Yeah, don’t you know that your side of the family is amongst the wealthiest in the stable? Only reason Zinc would have been picked over you is because same gender marriages are usually avoided for the overmare position.” I took a small break to catch my breath. “And I think I understand why, now that you’ve told me about sex. Especially given that the previous overmare had to abdicate in the middle of her term due to her lack of living relatives. Had she had children, the situation would have been different, because they could have supported her until she was ready to retire,” I replied matter-of-factly. It felt nice to be more knowledgeable than Candy on a certain topic.
“I can’t say I’m too fond of that idea,” she admitted.
“Me neither, though I would have much preferred marrying you over Zinc. At least you’re smart and kind.” Another realisation crossed my mind. “And I wouldn’t have had to have sex with you, so that would also have been a big plus.” Wait… “Actually, when I think of it, I think I would even have liked marrying you.”
“Uh huh,” she stated, then turned around and attached the cart’s harness to herself. “Now, we should get going. We stuck around here for too long, actually.” An awkward silence fell upon us. I had a hard time accepting it could be because of something I’d said, but I wasn’t certain. I didn’t think Candy would be the type to be offended by a pragmatic marriage, given how common they were for ponies of our standing, but I couldn’t fully chase the thought away. She probably just wanted to get to New Detrot as quickly as possible, and I was just imagining how awkward this silence felt.
The rest of the trip went by quietly. I couldn’t find a topic to bring up, and even considered taking one of my candies to help me think, but decided against it. If I had an unlimited supply of them, I could use them on things like that, but as it stood, I had to conserve them for more important matters. Instead, I spent the trip polishing and inspecting my rifle, despite my latent magical fatigue. With enough time and patience, this thing would eventually return to full functionality, though I suspected I needed to swap out some parts, either by making my own, or by cannibalising another rifle of a similar type. The latter option seemed easier, but it required finding another gun like mine and hoping the set of damaged parts was disjoint.
I was even able to polish the inside of the barrel, careful to run my telekinesis alongside the grooves, rather than over them. The spin helped stabilise the bullets’ trajectory, and polishing it away would have been counterproductive.
Eventually, Candy broke the silence by asking me how I had gotten injured, and I explained the whole situation to her.
We arrived in what resembled a train station, with the two parallel tracks turning into three, then four, then a half dozen. I watched my PipBuck intently as we approached it, until it flashed the new location onto the map. For the briefest moment, it labelled it as ‘Foal Junction’, before switching over to ‘New Detrot’. How did it do that? It was probably far beyond my current understanding, but I hoped to one day know enough to figure it out.
Once closer to the actual train station, I noticed ramps leading up from the tracks onto the platforms. It was clear they were added after the original design of this structure, probably even post-war. On top of the roof above the platforms, I spotted the silhouette of a winged creature. I could tell it wasn’t a pony, but it was advanced enough to wield a rifle. I couldn’t see exactly, but it seemed much bigger than my own, and I felt a spike of jealousy. I quickly pushed it aside.
When we were within ear shot, she called out to us in a deep, but recognisably female voice. “Hey!” shouted the griffin—presumably; she matched the descriptions I’d read of the species. Surprisingly, the armour she wore reminded me of Candy’s, sharing the same blue textile colour, as well as the black plating. “Oh, stable dwellers. Stockpile mentioned you. Come on in.”
Candy looked back at me in confusion. I spoke in a low tone that the griffin couldn’t hear. “I think she means under the roof. I’ll help you push the wagon up the ramp,” I said, getting ready to get down from the wagon.
“No, don’t push it in your cond—” I simply tapped my horn and she stopped herself. “Right, I keep forgetting other unicorns actually have strength behind their telekinesis.” Was her horn really that weak? She had been able to use potent nerve magic, so she couldn’t really be that weak… right?
As we pushed the wagon onto the platform, I noticed two more white bars pop up on my EFS. Given that I couldn’t see them, I suspected they were on the roof along the first griffin, who flew down, landing next to us. “Welcome to New Detrot. I need to get back to guard duty, but you should meet Gust inside the main building.” That name rang a bell… Right! He had my bounty for killing the raiders.
She pointed to our right, where a large concrete structure extended past platform one. “With how cold it’s been the past few days, we haven’t had many new visitors, but you’ll find a few traders inside.” She turned to take off again, but then looked at us again. “My name’s Gale, by the way.”
After the large bird took off, Candy whispered to me, “I’m not sure if we should trust her…”
“We don’t have to trust her,” I replied. “Let’s just not put ourselves in any situation where we might have to.”
“Well, yeah, but you’ve seen how well-armed she is. She could just kill us.”
“Yeah, and she hasn’t. I completely agree that we shouldn’t turn our backs to strangers anymore, but if she and the other pon—people on the roof wanted to hurt us, they probably would already have tried something. By the size of that barrel, that rifle would be accurate at least five hundred metres, maybe more.” I was getting distracted. “I’m just as on edge as you, but if they’re all this well-armed, they don’t need to drug our food to hurt us.”
“There’s others?” she questioned, incredulous.
“Yeah. I can see them on my EFS. All white bars, though.”
“Ah, I see. We should lock the wagon and chain it to one of the pillars, I think. It’s ours now, and I wouldn’t want somepony to steal it, and I don’t trust the guards to not at least attempt it.”
I nodded in agreement and, five minutes later, we were crossing the train tracks. I regretted this decision when I realised I would have to climb back onto the platform. With Candy’s help, it ended up much less painful than if I’d tried doing it alone. I wished I could just teleport us—or at least myself—across the gaps. That, in turn, brought back memories of the noxious rad-toads, or whatever they were.
“I think we should find a way around, maybe take the stairs below. The platforms seem to connected underground.” It wasn’t a very difficult or shocking conclusion, it almost felt like I was stating the obvious.
Underground, yellowed white paint was peeling off the tile walls. In fact, most of the paint was gone, and only remained in a few places where it became obvious this had been a rushed paint job to hide the aging tiles. Our hooves clacked loudly against the concrete floor, echoing throughout the entire tunnel. The unpleasant odour of dried urine hit my nostrils. Why would anypony pick some underground tunnel, out of all the options in Equestria, to relieve themself? I groaned. The attack on my sense of smell ended when we climbed a staircase, leaving the tunnel.
When we finally entered the train station building—this one much bigger than the one near Foal Mountain—we found a few ponies sitting inside on benches, chatting. Leaning against the back wall stood a griffin, carefully eyeing Candy and I. His Stable-Tec security armour holstered both a baton and some kind of short automatic rifle.
On the sides, tables had been arranged as trading stands, with merchandise sitting on top. Even though the room looked far from empty, I could tell many more merchants could normally have stands here. One earth pony’s stand sold produce that looked relatively fresh. Another one, occupied by a unicorn, sold various pre-war items, like eating utensils, clothing, and soap, but also—somehow still edible—packaged food.
The last stand that had items on it almost made me drool. A rifle, a shotgun, several pistols, and a carbine lay on the table. They all looked in better condition than my varmint rifle, but none of them looked fresh like the shotguns me and Candy had taken from the stable. Well, mine was broken, but if we ignored that small detail, it looked much better than those.
Still, these weapons looked amazing. I wanted to try all of them, but then I remembered—we had no money. It was then I realised that I had, in fact, been drooling. In my defense, it wasn’t much, but Candy did give me a look.
The last table did not seem to have any merchandise on it. Instead, a griffin male—presumably, given that he looked gruffer than the other members of his species we’d encountered—sat at it, writing idly on a sheet of yellowed paper. The wall to his right was covered with posters tacked onto the wood. Could this be Gust? He must have noticed my gaze as he perked up, meeting it with his green eyes.
“Hello, welcome to New Detrot, how may I help you?” Realisation dawned in his eyes. “You’re the stable dwellers Stockpile mentioned, aren’t you?” he said in a flat, neutral voice. It ever so slightly reminded me of Mother’s voice.
“I think so,” Candy replied. “Unless there were more of us that I’m not aware of.” She let out a small giggle, and Gust also chuckled.
“Well, I have fifty caps for you. If you spend them here, we can just figure out a tab and save me the trouble of counting all of them out.” He shrugged. “I just can’t stand counting caps any more than necessary.”
My friend turned to me, nonverbally asking me for my input, much to my own surprise. It felt… odd to have an adult not only care for my opinion, but to actively seek it out. And so, I complied, “Well, I don’t see why this place would be any worse than others. And we need supplies anyway.”
She nodded in reply. “That’s what was on my mind as well.” She turned back to Gust. ”Sure.”
Then, he announced our credit to the whole room, and gave us a sheet of paper for the merchants to write how much they’d charged us. Then, the two of us first walked towards the produce merchant. Given our extra day travelling—even with the things from Silver’s chariot—we were almost out of food, and we figured we wanted something fresh.
That turned out to be a mistake, as the vegetables and lettuces seemed to cost five times as much as the other stand’s packaged foods. Neither of us could tell how much caps were truly worth, but ten of them for one apple was definitely not within our budget. Maybe once we had a more substantial fortune and source of income, but for now we needed to stick with the cheap option. With twenty caps, we bought what would hopefully last us for two days.
We decided it would be a good idea to set aside some caps. Gust hadn’t said we needed to spend all of them, just that he didn’t feel like counting out such an amount. Fifteen caps were spent buying ammunition for my rifle. Thankfully, .22LR rounds seemed to be one of the cheapest cartridges to buy. It made sense, given how much smaller they were. Because of their size, they were also able to reach very high velocities, but didn’t have much destructive ability compared to larger rounds.
I packed the dozen small bullets into my harness’ pouch and asked the merchant, “Do you have anything that could help repair my rifle? It’s in fairly terrible shape. Of course, I might not be able to afford it, but I’d like to ask anyway.”
“Well, I don’t have any individual parts, but I do have a fairly unusable varmint rifle I could scrap to repair yours. Wouldn’t be that expensive, probably twenty, maybe thirty caps since it’s a fairly simple gun, depends which parts I can swap out,” the merchant stated, much to my disappointment. We didn’t have that much.
“How much would just the gun cost?” I was pretty confident I could do it myself. After all, I’d spent a lot of time rummaging around the inner workings of mine, how difficult could this be?
“Well, I probably wouldn’t sell it for more than five or ten caps, but just giving it to you would be a waste, I feel. So unless your sister really knows her way around guns, I’d rather just do it myself.”
“I don’t need the whole rifle. I just need to replace the firing pin. The receiver is dented in certain places and rusted through in others. I don’t have any tools to fix it, so I’m thinking of just replacing it. The spring inside the bolt is also worrying me. The bolt’s hull is also slightly damaged, but it’s not a priority,” I stated flatly, staring him in the eyes. Technically, even the barrel needed to be replaced. This entire weapon was in a terrible state, really.
“Or maybe you know your way around guns. Fine, I’ll sell it for five caps, but I don’t think the receiver is in a great shape, either. Dunno about the firing pin.” He shrugged and reached into the duffle bag behind him, and wrote down another line on our tab.
With this, we’d gone through forty-five of our caps. I wanted more ammo, but Candy insisted we were better off holding onto some money, and I was inclined to agree. Still, we needed to find a way to make more, or to scavenge for food.
We approached Gust’s table again, and he took a quick look at the sheet before digging out the caps from a bag behind him. When he handed them to Candy, she asked him. “Is there any job we could do around here?” Glancing at the posters behind him, she then quickly added, “Preferably one not involving murder.”
“Well, there are always some errands to run,” replied the griffin. “We have a notice board, but I actually have something a bit more pressing. You see, our resident radio host, Airwaves, has gone missing, again.” He rolled his eyes. “Yesterday afternoon, she said something about scavenging old electronics for her station, and today she’s been missing the whole day.”
Candy nodded in understanding. “And you want us to find her?” If she was still alive. In this cold, she would have died if she stayed out the night. And where would we even start looking?
“Correct. She always scavenges for electronics in the old metro tunnels. I suspect she might have gotten swarmed by ghouls, since those things tend to flock underground when it’s as cold as now. She’s pretty nimble, being a pegasus and all, so I doubt she got caught. Most likely, she just barricaded herself in a room and can’t leave due to the ghouls.”
Once more, Candy Cane looked at me. It was still hard to fully wrap around the fact that she cared about what I thought. But then again, she wasn’t just an adult, she was also my friend. It made some sense, after all. “It sounds awfully dangerous, don’t you think? And how would we find her, anyway?” If a proper wastelander couldn’t handle those ghouls, then what odds did we stand?
“I’m not asking you to necessarily bring her back, just to find her. I have her PipBuck tag written down somewhere, that should help you find her. With your EFS, you should be able to tell if there’s a crowd. If there is, you can just come back, if there ain’t, well… they likely ate her and dispersed.” Oh, of course those things eat ponies. I don’t know why it didn’t cross my mind earlier…
“I suppose that’s reasonable,” said Candy. “But why us? Surely you have somepony better for the job.
Gust shook his head. “None of my griffs are available, and it would take someone a day to search every metro station around here. You two have PipBucks, that already makes the whole thing easier.” I furrowed my eyebrows and frowned in thought.
“Why does nopo—nobody else have another PipBuck?” I asked the griffin.
“Only the best of us get PipBucks, and those tend to work in more important places. She had hers before even working for me. What’s it matter to you?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing, just curious,” I admitted.
We agreed on the terms. Twenty caps to walk East for less than an hour, according to the PipBuck map. If we had the opportunity to and did bring her back, we would get a bonus—even if we only brought back a corpse. He explained the directions to us, and to my amazement, my PipBuck showed a marker on my EFS. Candy seemed to have it too, as she turned to look in its direction, but unlike me, she wasn’t awed. She’d probably used this feature before, after all.
We decided to leave our cart here. We’d taken most of our valuables out of it, and the New Detrot train station was well enough guarded that nopony would try to steal it without the guard’s accords. While we didn’t like the idea of trusting the armed griffins—or anypony in New Detrot, for that matter—there was also no real reason for them to steal a cart like ours. Would be bad for business, after all.
After maybe fifty minutes of walking, I was still surprisingly energetic. Then again, I hadn’t had too many issues walking down Foal Mountain, so maybe a day or two of rest was all I’d needed. Though I probably also needed to start eating properly again. In the week I’d spent outside, I’d gotten slightly skinnier, and given I’d always been skirting the line to underweight, this was definitely not a good thing. My ribs prominently protruded from underneath my coat. This was likely how Candy was so confident one of them was broken, since one of the bones was not perfectly in line with the rest.
I attempted to turn my attention away from my chest and towards the road. Thinking about it seemed to make the pain worse, but forgetting about it led me to do reckless things that made it hurt much worse. There was no winning with this injury, was there?
We eventually reached the entrance to the metro our PipBucks had been pointing to. Gust had discouraged us from entering the tunnel prematurely, and so we’d ended up walking most of the way above ground. We found out that the green and the red metro lines met up in Marey Junction, which was a day—roughly ten hours—from New Detrot on hoof. The sheer scale of the region baffled both Candy and I.
I’d read about it prior—about the rapid growth of the region during the late Celestian rule due to a sudden golden industrial age—and knew how it had led to one of the most spread out centers of population in pre-bomb Equestria. Seeing it in person, and having already walked so much, however, was a very different experience. Fifty kilometres did not seem like a lot until you had to cover it on hoof.
As we walked down the ramp—there were stairs, but my injury made me avoid those—red bars started appearing, one by one. By the time we arrived at the bottom, there were six. No, seven. The bad part was that they all roughly coincided with our target marker. “I think this is good enough. We know there’s a crowd of red bars there, that should suffice. I don’t think we can fight this many ghouls, so I would rather remain unnoticed,” I told Candy.
“Ah, you see bars? Well, I’d rather check out the crowd anyway. I’d feel bad for half-assing a job. We don’t need to get that close, just close enough to make sure.” I wasn’t too keen on the idea, but she did have a point, especially since Airwave’s bar hadn’t appeared yet. What worried me was how dark the tunnel was, but that could work to our advantage as well, especially since we had PipBucks, and they likely did not.
We slowly advanced into the darkness, careful to not make any noise, until eventually, a single white bar appeared, slightly to the right of the crowd. I tried to whisper to Candy, but she was too far to hear me. I considered my options. I could either call out to her slightly louder, or catch her attention in other ways. If I touched her telekinetically, she might get shocked and make a sound, but I suspected it wouldn’t be louder than her hoofsteps. I tugged on her saddlebags. Big mistake, as she audibly gasped. Louder than her hoofsteps.
Immediately, steps could be heard as the red bars started moving. Candy immediately took a combat stance, shotgun floating by her side. “Iron, if you could light up the tunnel side-to-side with your magic, that would be perfect.”
I telekinetically unharnessed my rifle, and started channelling more and more magic into my grip until my horn was blindingly scarlet, illuminating a huge portion of the underground metro.
I’d never channelled this much energy into simple telekinesis. I might have used a similar amount when popping the raider’s head, but never had I poured this much power into holding a relatively light object.
The effect was unexpected. Since the extra power wasn’t used as raw strength, it ended up manifesting as added sensitivity. I could feel every nook and microscopic fissure on the surface of the metal’s surface. I could even notice how it moved alongside my breathing. This would come in handy for keeping my gun steady, and would help me aim. Granted, short-range it wouldn’t make a huge difference, but it was still a good trick to remember.
I snapped out of my brief reverie to find a flock of ghouls rushing towards Candy. With my improved control, it wasn’t difficult to swing my rifle exactly where I meant to. However, channelling this much magic wasn’t practical, since I had to split my concentration between aiming and maintaining my telekinesis. Instead, I just clicked into SATS and queued two shots at two different ghouls’ heads, the spell estimating the likelihood to hit at ninety-five percent each.
As I pulled the trigger, I felt the hammer release, accelerated by the spring, slam the firing pin, the latter hit the cartridge, the primer ignite, and the explosion spread to the gunpowder. The entire experience sent shivers through my whole body. It was as pleasant as a hot shower, but not in the same, relaxing manner. To my telekinetic touch, it felt like a gorgeous, upbeat tune felt to my ears. It was like touching a soft fabric with my hooves. It was all those things together, but also just so much better.
My telekinesis stopped my rifle’s recoil dead in its tracks, but I lost some sensitivity as the gun exerted a force inside my grip. Then, I felt my telekinesis pull back the bolt, the magazine feed another .22 calibre round into the chamber, and the bolt slide back into place, guided by my magic. The firing process repeated, feeling just as exquisite as before, sending ripples of ecstasy through my horn.
When the spell ended, I found myself panting. The reason was beyond me, but now that I was out of SATS charges, I started worrying I would have to go for body shots. I had a hard time focusing on the spell, so I doubted I’d be able to land hits on moving targets. Not to mention, I didn’t have .22 calibre ammo to waste. Instead, I pulled out my 10mm pistol. I had more bullets for it, and they were slightly more destructive when going for body shots—at least according to my theory. Ideally, I would have used my shotgun, but with Candy this close to me, I didn’t want to risk any stray pellets reaching her.
Shot after shot sent waves of pleasure through my horn and mind, and I started laughing every time my shots sent sickly green fulid flying. On average, I needed three shots to down a ghoul. I didn’t pay much mind to Candy, but I could tell she was smashing ghouls, and probably having just as much fun as I did. My pistol’s hammer clicked on an empty chamber, and I noticed in horror that one ghoul was still running at me.
My telekinesis fumbled for my spare magazine, and the world slowed to a crawl as I realised that it was futile. I was about to get killed. My mind regretted not having grabbed for the rifle instead, knowing very well it was now too late to shoot it. I entered SATS, but the spell refused to do anything. Was this the end? I released the spell, hoping it wouldn’t be painful.
Instead of pain came a shotgun’s roar, and next thing I knew, the ghoul lay on the ground, shredded up by lead pellets. Candy then turned around to the last red bar, and squashed the ghoul’s head between the wall and her right hindleg with a swift and powerful buck, before wiping her hoof clean on the concrete. She turned to me and asked if I was alright. I nodded in reply, heart racing, hooves shaking, breathing heavy. She then made a comment on how much she hated ghouls.
I turned on my PipBuck’s flashlight and stopped channelling huge amounts of magic into my telekinesis. I immediately missed the hyper-sensitive touch I’d had for the past minute or two. Then, my head throbbed. I hadn’t realised how much power I’d been pushing until I’d stopped, and the sudden stop hit me like recoil. How long could I even have kept going? Now that it was gone, my magic sense felt… empty, in a way. It was like when sometimes my eyes would lose focus and my vision would blur, and I’d end up staring into blank space.
The door in the wall opened, and a dirt grey pegasus mare cautiously stepped through the frame. To my surprise, she was neither armed nor armoured. “You here to rescue me?” she asked, squinting her emerald eyes at the harsh PipBuck light. Noticing this, I quickly aimed my flashlight away from her.
“Yeah,” replied Candy. “We weren’t originally supposed to fight the ghouls, we were just here to confirm what was happening.”
“Neato. You gals wanna help me carry some of my loot to my place?” the pegasus asked. “I’ll pay you, and buy you a drink or two,” she added nonchalantly, tucking her yellow-and-purple bangs back behind her ear. What an… interesting character.
We agreed, and each of us started packing some of the delicate electronics the pegasus had extracted. All that remained was a single heavy-looking metal box. Airwaves looked at it and sighed. “I guess one of the griffs is gonna have to come get it.” She glanced at Candy. “Although… You look strong enough that you might be able to carry it, if we strap it to your back. What do you say, for an extra fifteen caps?”
Candy just nodded confidently in reply, and we decided I’d help her get the box onto her back. Part of me was hoping the pegasus would be amazed by my strength. As I started channeling energy into lifting the heavy box, something felt off. My magic felt… sore? That was the best way I could describe it. It almost felt like a muscle I’d overused. That had never happened to me before.
Finally, the box lifted off the ground, right as my headache was reaching its apex. Kssshhhh… The red glow faded, and the box promptly fell back to the ground. The pain in my skull was pounding. What was going on? I tried again, only to find that my magic wasn’t responding at all. I tried again, but only got a pulse of pain as a result.
“That’s… unfortunate,” whispered Candy. “Did you burn out?”
“Burn out? What’s that…?” I countered her question with one of my own.
“I’ll… explain later,” she replied.
The two mares scrambled to attach the block to Candy’s back, while I sat back, too embarrassed to speak up. My magic had never failed me, why did it have to right after meeting someone for the first time? I wanted to sink into the ground.
During the trip back, the pegasus complained to us about how it was Gust’s fault she had been stuck down there. Apparently, the griffin had told her that she needed to wait a few days until he could send one of his Talons along with her. She told us she couldn’t wait that long, and so she decided to scavenge on her own, safety be damned. I kept my opinion that she was unnecessarily reckless to myself.
When we returned to New Detrot, Gust gave us our payment, as well as a bonus of fifteen caps for also bringing Airwaves back. It didn’t cover the cost of the ammunition I’d expended, but since it wasn’t in our agreement, he refused to pay extra. However, with the added thirty-five caps from the radio mare, we did make profit. Candy had been happy to help a pony in need, but I didn’t really care. A griffin would have rescued her eventually anyway.
Airwaves invited us to come by Moonshine’s bar for a drink in a few hours. Given that it was starting to get dark, Candy and I wanted to find a quiet place to hide the wagon and later sleep. As she pulled it away from the train station, she started a conversation. “You know, that was really impressive, in the metro.”
“You… think so?” I replied. My ego was still hurt by my inability to lift some box. I should ask her about that. Or maybe I could find some information on it in the Big Book of Arcane Science (Definitive Edition).
“Yeah. Your aim was really good, I’m proud of you. On top of that, knowing you had my left side covered allowed me to fight better than I otherwise could have.” She turned to me, shooting me a smile that instantly made me happier. “Of course, that overglow you channeled helped me see, so I suppose that was even more important, thanks.”
“I’m glad to help, but what do you mean by overglow? I think I saw that word in the Big Book of Arcane Science, but I didn’t have the time to read about it yet,” I answered, unsure.
“It’s when you pour more magic than needed into a spell, or something like that. I never paid much attention in magic class, but I’m surprised you didn’t even hear of it. Come to think of it, it’s even stranger that you didn’t know about burnout,” she said, turning her gaze forward again.
“Well, like I told you, the focus of my education was mostly on stable and pre-stable history. Magic was mostly something I experimented with during my free time, and when Mother gave me time to explore my cutie mark options. Could you tell me more about burnouts?”
“We say that unicorns ‘burn out’ when we overuse our magic. Most of us experience it as young foals, so I’m surprised you didn’t know about it. Though your explanation makes sense, and it even explains why you would have used overglow instead of a simple light spell.”
“There’s light spells?” I said, perplexed. On second thought it made sense, but the possibility had never crossed my mind.
She replied, “Yeah, it’s a basic spell found in any foal’s magic book.”
“Oh, Mother told me I could skip those, since magic came so naturally to me.”
The pink mare was shocked for a moment, then she raised an eyebrow before saying, “It’s odd that your cutie mark isn’t related to magic, given how strong yours is.”
“Well, just because my body is able to, doesn’t mean I need a cutie mark in it. You don’t have a zombie kicking cutie mark, do you?” I countered.
“You do have a point,” she conceded. “Still, I can’t help but think Aunt Brass should have taught you more magic, to at least some extent.”
“I did learn a few spells,” I retorted. “But magic just isn’t the most interesting thing to me. It’s a cool tool and does have intriguing aspects, but I wouldn’t really wanna learn it just for the sake of learning it.” Well, I’d gotten curious about teleportation, but that had seriously backfired, and I’d learned my lesson.
“Hmm. I suppose you can’t just force an interest.”
We’d hidden the wagon in some pre-war house’s garage, making sure nopony had seen us. As usual, we took our actual valuables with us. It did weigh us down more than necessary, but we didn’t like the idea of losing what little we had. Admittedly, the idea of losing the wagon wasn’t pleasant either—it was a useful way of surviving cold nights in between settlements, after all—but the cart did bring out negative feelings, too.
We entered Moonshine’s bar. At the entrance, a sign read: “Mom’s Kitchen. Stir up trouble and you’re getting shot.” Charming.
The inside was surprisingly similar to the small diner in Stable 4, with a large metal counter to our left, surrounded by tall stools. Tables with regular chairs were scattered in the rest of the room. Many ponies sat around the counter, some engaged in casual discussion, laughing, while others simply enjoyed their drinks.
Most of the tables were either empty or fully populated. Only exception was the one at which the pegasus mare sat, vacantly staring in the general direction of the counter. As we approached her, she noticed us and greeted us with a warm ‘hello’. In front of her stood a bottle branded ‘Wild Pegasus Whiskey’, full of amber liquid, as well as three glasses. She pointed at it, asking us if we wanted any, then opened the bottle.
Because I was intrigued by the alcohol and wondered if it tasted similarly terrible to the sips of wine I’d had, I was tempted to accept, but before I had the chance to, Candy spoke up, “Well, we’re both too young to drink. Or maybe not? I’m not too familiar with the laws—uh I guess the standards?—out in the wasteland.” Wonderfully awkward, Candy.
“Her? She’s pretty short, so I could buy that she’s a filly,” I was surprised she didn’t immediately think of me as one, “but you? At the youngest, you look a couple of years younger than me,” Airwaves stated, then pondered. “Well, I suppose it might be different in stables.”
“Then I’ll gladly take a glass,” the unicorn replied with a smile. “I just hope I can handle it…” she muttered, low enough that I was confident the pegasus didn’t hear.
As Airwaves finished pouring half a glass of the liquid, she turned to me. “What about you? Or are you actually as young as she suggested? It’s hard to tell, ‘cause you have this gloomy look on your face. Oh, and the scar certainly gives you a more mature vibe, y’know?” Was she always such a chatterbox? I’m glad she’s not like that with the news, ‘cause that would make them get old pretty quickly. Or is it the alcohol? I know adults get weird when they drink too much of the stuff.
“I… don’t know if I’ll like it. Can I have just a bit?” Candy shot me a look that clearly meant ‘you sure about this?’. I nodded reassuringly at her. If it tasted as bad as wine, she could just have my glass of the stuff.
I grabbed the glass in my red aura and drank half of the alcohol in one gulp. Big mistake. My mouth and throat were set on fire, and I coughed. I almost felt like vomiting. By the stars, this beverage was vile! After a few agonizing seconds, I was finally able to partly regain my surroundings. Candy was staring at me in concern, while Airwaves was making a face like she was trying—and almost failing—to conceal a fit of laughter. I swallowed my pride—it tasted less disgusting than whiskey—and asked, “Can I get some water, please?” Water was one of the things we’d left in our wagon.
Candy immediately stood up to the bar. I needed to get rid of this aftertaste, and I doubted water would do the trick. Ugh. Fine, this was an emergency situation, and it warranted using some of my limited supply of candy. It was late enough that the sugar crash wouldn’t be an issue, anyway.
I turned to my saddlebags and levitated out my tin of mint-als, placing one underneath my tongue. It… slightly helped. Maybe the water would do better. I raised my gaze to the pegasus again, whose expression had changed to perplexed, with a hint of shock. Her mouth was open, as if wanting to say something, but as I looked into her eyes, she closed it again. Good, I didn’t really want to talk until I had some water to rinse my palate.
Candy returned, fuming, with a water bottle in her pink telekinesis. “Thirty caps for some clean water, would you believe that‽” Stars curse me. Had I just wasted thirty of our caps? Too late to complain now. I grabbed the water and took several large swigs, lodging my mint in between my teeth and cheek to avoid swallowing it. Maybe we should start considering water a valuable as well…
“That’s the price you pay for the fancy, purified water,” commented Airwaves.
“Well, it was that or dirty water,” whined Candy. She levitated her glass to her lips and took a gentle sip, and somehow didn’t almost die, unlike me.
“It’s not that dirty, it’s what everypony drinks. Clean stuff’s expensive ‘cause it costs power to produce-slash-purify, and that’s not something we have a lot of around here.”
“I’m surprised there even is any power at all,” I commented. “Judging by the state of the world.”
Airwaves giggled at my comment, and gave me an amused look. “You think hundred and eighty years would pass by, and ponies wouldn’t at least try to rebuild the world?” She took a sip from her poison.
“You… have a point. It’s just that everything seems to be in such terrible shape,” I replied, feeling silly.
“Honestly, if it weren’t for those Celestia-damned pegasi, we’d be much further along the reconstruction. Agriculture is our biggest concern.” She swooshed the liquid around in her glass before taking another sip.
Wasn’t she a pegasus? What did she mean by that? I had to find a way to ask that without sounding clueless. Well, it’s not like it would be the end of the world if I did sound clueless. Oh, the candy was starting to take effect, and I had an idea of how to ask without sounding dumb. Before I could voice it, however, Candy said, “What do you mean by that? Aren’t you a pegasus?”
“I meant the Enclave.” She giggled and stuck out her tongue.
“The what?” was Candy’s response.
“Right. Stable dwellers.” She sighed. “I’m not in the mood to give you guys a proper history lesson on the wasteland and how fucked up it is, but I’ll tell you this much. You ever wonder why the clouds never lift?”
Candy nodded. “Well, I was starting to wonder when we would see the sun.”
“Likely never. Maybe once, if you get lucky. Pegasi use the clouds to grow crops so that they can stay up there and let us rot. They’re fucking cowards, willing to put the comfort of a small population of their own over the well-being of the entirety of Equestria.” She finished her glass in one swift swig, and I cringed at the idea of doing the same.
“Growing crops on clouds? How does that work?” I asked, perplexed, while the white pegasus poured herself another glass.
“Fuck if I know, I haven’t even been up there.” I could feel my eyebrows furrowing.
“You… Can’t get up there?” I knew I was asking an obvious question, but I genuinely wanted to know, whether I look clueless or not.
“I could try, but I’d just get roasted by their magical energy weapons.” She gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah no, I can’t. Never been up there, never plan on going. Fuckers cast out my mom for saying things they didn’t like.” That’s interesting… I wonder what their internal politics look like if they’re willing to go to such lengths to censor their people. The stable never needed to go to such extents. Usually fines were enough.
“I’m… sorry to hear that, miss,” said Candy. Somehow, she’d already gotten through her glass of whiskey, and was starting to sip mine.
“Well, it’s not like I care. I’d honestly rather live here, no matter how tough it gets, at least I wouldn’t have to feel guilty for fucking over thousands of other ponies.” I was starting to get tired of her swearing. As a matter of fact, I was starting to get tired of her entire attitude.
“But there’s something bugging me,” remarked Candy. “We saw fresh produce in the main hall, how is that even possible? It should be too cold to grow anything, on top of not being sunny enough.”
“It’s part of why power is so scarce here. We have a group of five earth ponies growing crops in greenhouses, but they use up a ton of electricity to run. We’re constantly running into issues with the substations, but the main issue comes from just a supply. The little power we currently have comes from the Hoofer dam, but that thing is half broken, and tryna’ fix it will just getcha radiation poisoning. On top of that, it’s so far north that even getting there is a huge pain in the ass.” She took a large swig directly from the bottle, and I noticed her second glass was already empty. “Hic!”
“Are you sure you should be drinking this much?” hesitantly asked Candy, worry apparent in her voice. Why was she concerned for this annoying, loudmouth pegasus? Well, if anything happened to her, we would lose our source of regional news, but I doubted she would die from drinking too much. She looked much too used to this to accidentally overdo it. Was I judging her unfairly simply because she could drink so much of this gross stuff?
“I’ll be fiiiiine.” Yes, I was judging her, but I doubted it was unfairly. Now, even I was able to notice the effects of the alcohol on her. Her speech sounded slurred. If I remembered correctly, drinking large amounts of it made your brain work slower, and I just couldn’t understand why a pony would willingly subject themself to both the taste and the effect. I’d get it if it at least tasted good, but as it stood, I was utterly and completely confused by adults, once again. Candy didn’t seem to love it as much, as she only drank small sips of the stuff, but she didn’t seem to hate it as much as I did, either.
I lost track of their conversation as I was distracted by the room instead. It was full of all types of ponies, as well as a griffin, but Airwaves was the only pegasus, partially confirming what she’d mentioned earlier. There were a few large earth pony stallions that looked strong enough to give Candy a run for her bits—or caps, I suppose—but most people here were scrawny and short. In the crowd, a dim grey unicorn with a green mane caught my eye. He wasn’t nearly as thin as everypony else in the room, and while he was only as tall as the average pony in the room, he seemed to stand above the entire room. He had an aura of nobility to him, reminiscent of Mother, yet didn’t seem haughty, only slightly arrogant. I turned my attention to the rest of the ponies in the saloon.
As I looked through the small crowd, I recognised some of the merchants from earlier, and it got me thinking. What were all these ponies doing here? Not the bar specifically, but I couldn’t tell why New Detrot of all places. Was there no other option? What were their occupations?
The two at my table had momentarily stopped their chat, and I asked, “What kind of place is New Detrot? Who comes around here?” I hoped she was still functional enough to answer this. Given that I’d only zoned out for at most five minutes, I dared hope she was.
“Mostly merchants and prospectors~” she replied in a sing-song voice. What was wrong with this mare? “Ujually there’s much less ponies ‘ere, but with the cold a lot of them are staying over. S’good for business.” Oh great, now she wasn’t even trying to sound normal anymore. “Gust lets ponies trade safely here, and in exchange they pay a small tax. It’s win-win. We also make money from the local inn and the bar. Almost everypony in the region has to pass through here at shome point.” She was moving her head back and forth, seemingly amused. Was she enjoying the loss of balance? Was that even a symptom of alcohol intoxication?
Then, it was Candy’s turn to ask a question, “How do you get by, by the way?” Wasn’t her job to be the news mare? Or did she not get paid to do that?
“Oh, I work directly for Gusht~ He says it’s good for business to help ponies stay safe. I’m glad I get to do it, ‘cause I love my job, and I’d do it regardless of the capzzzzz.”
I lost myself in thoughts again, catching bits and pieces of other conversations. I felt ever so slightly lightheaded and suspected it was from the tiny amount of alcohol I’d drunk. Then, I noticed two stallions walking towards our table. The larger of the two approached Candy. “Good evening, missy. I noticed you across the room, and I gotta say, you’re lookin’ mighty fine. You wanna get outta here and have some fun?”
Candy looked surprised, and for a second even shocked, but she still replied with her usual soft and gentle voice, “No, but thank you for the offer.”
The other stallion, shorter but just as muscular as the first told him, in what appeared to be an attempt at whispering, “Try the turkey, she looks hammered enough that she’d fuck a chair.”
Airwaves, obviously, had heard that comment and decided to reply, “Don’t even fucking think about it, you walking pile of bloatsprite vomit.” How did she suddenly sound infinitely more collected? She didn’t even sound this sober when she was sober. The larger of the two hit the other in the ribs with his hoof, causing him to yelp and massage his side. I could almost feel the pain in my own rib, except mine was actually broken. The shorter stallion, once he was done complaining and whining, turned to me. “What about you, eh?”
Candy turned to him and spoke before I even had a chance to understand what he wanted. “Touch her, and I’m crushing your fucking skull.” Her voice was ice cold and sharp like a razor, sending shivers through my spine. The stallion started trembling and walking backwards, terrified. I couldn’t blame him; I was taken aback as well, and I knew she was on my side.
Suddenly, I heard a stallion clear his throat, and I noticed the bartender, Moonshine, standing next to our table. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, a hoof on the shotgun attached by a string to his neck.
My friend replied to him, her voice amicable and warm again, “No, of course not. We were simply telling these gentlecolts we weren’t interested in their generous offer.” This kindness, combined with her previous threat, and the way she’d protected me in the metro all came together in a single, cozy feeling. For the first time in years, I felt safe.
She turned back to face our pegasus acquaintance, whose expression was frozen in admirative shock. The unicorn just smiled, returning to her usual self. Candy started talking about their previous topic—mostly just complaining about the cold, really—but I could tell Airwaves was not listening. The petite mare was clearly too busy just staring at my friend. Was this what Arcane had looked like during her first day at work? Or was I misreading things?
“So, what can you tell us about the region, Miss Airwaves?” wondered my companion. I was glad the discussion returned to an interesting topic.
Her conversation partner slurred out her reply, “Weeeell… There’s not as many ponies living here as there are evewywhere else. Everywhere. ‘Cause it’s so hard and hard to survive up here.”
Candy raised an eyebrow. “Then how come ponies live here at all?”
“Shpeshifically because there’s so few ponies here.” She paused and contemplated her glass for a second, clearly considering another drink. “The pre-bomb settlementz here are so common for some reason. But that means that we get lots of very small, very isolated communities all throughout the region. New Detrot is actchually the biggest non-zombie settlement in the entirety of midnorthern Equestria.”
“That’s a lot of information to take in at once,” admitted Candy. “How common are these settlements?”
“I dunno, if you go north or west or south-east of here along the metro tracks, you’ll see small suburbs every few hours. I wonder what those damn pre-bomb ponies thought. How would it be convenient to just spread out over an entire region like this? I don’t get it. And why did they even call their train tracks metro lines? More than half of it is above ground!” ranted the pegasus.
Before I could stop myself, I started explaining, “Actually, I can answer that. You see, in the late Celestian era, the Equestrian economy boomed, and along with that, so did the manufacturing industry. Over a few years, a lot of companies started outsourcing their production needs to Detrot, which created an incredibly large amount of jobs in the industrial area, which quickly started outgrowing the residential areas.” Why couldn’t I stop myself? This was so much unlike me. Sure, I would have loved to have them recognise my knowledge, but monologuing about history was out of character for me.
I paused to take a sip of water. “Because of this, ponies started living a bit further away, since rent was much cheaper, and transport didn’t take much longer. Metro lines were established, and this trend continued. Living further away from the city was both more comfortable and cheaper for a lot of ponies. The region only really stopped growing when the coal shortages began, and then so many ponies lost their jobs that moving away was difficult. Owning property that no one wanted to buy left them stranded in the region. The region only partly recovered when armed conflict started, and manufacturing was needed as part of the war effort.” I still couldn’t comprehend why I had gone on this tangent. I likely made them mad by doing this.
No, Candy wouldn’t get mad. But she might be disappointed. I wanted to look to my left, and gauge her reaction, but couldn’t; my gaze stayed on the pegasus mare in front of me. She looked… impressed? Not angry, not even annoyed. Just… impressed. I finally managed to look at Candy, who looked proud. Had I done the right thing? I’d just been bragging, hadn’t I? I’d interrupted adults with my silly ramblings, and I should face consequences… right?
Airwaves stared awkwardly, then coughed in a half-hearted attempt at concealing her next word. “Nerd.” I was instantly furious and wanted to challenge her on those words. Instead, I just looked down at the table in shame.
Candy saved me from my misery and spoke up, making me turn towards her. “You know, I’m pretty sure I had that in school as well, but I don’t remember any of it. I’m actually impressed at how good you are at remembering stuff like that,” approved the unicorn, smiling.
“So this is normal knowledge for stable folk?” wondered Airwaves, taken aback. So now that Candy was impressed, this was suddenly impressive knowledge? Before long, their dialogue returned to things I didn’t care about.
As I once again lost track of their conversation, I started looking around the room again. I couldn’t tell what compelled me to—I’d seen everything there was to see. However, something was odd about my movements, they didn’t feel like they were truly my own. Was I imagining things? Was this related to the alcohol I’d drunk? Was it maybe the combination of alcohol and sugar rush? Were my movements influenced by the drink, or was it my perception of them that was altered? It really was hard to tell, but this almost felt like that memory talisman. Unlike that, however, those movements were still mine, just… odd.
I walked out of the bar, and into the night, following behind Candy. Feeling the sugar crash, I’d told her I was sleepy, and she decided it was time to leave. By now, my movements felt like they weren’t mine at all. My step felt much more hesitant than how I’d normally walked. I was almost hiding behind my older cousin, and seemed to be ready to jump underneath her the moment danger presented itself. Part of me doubted it was simply the alcohol, but I had no other explanation. I wanted to ask Candy or Airwaves, but didn’t manage to open my mouth.
We eventually split up with the pegasus, who took to the air. Half a minute later, I could have sworn I heard her crash into a wall, but Candy didn’t react. Wasn’t any of my business, though I suspected Candy would make it her business if she found out.
As we were slowly trotting to where we’d hidden the cart, I noticed something odd in the corner of my eye. I wanted to turn to it, take another glance. Not that I could look if I wanted to. It was probably nothing.
Moments later, a pony emerged from the shadows, running towards Candy, a large combat knife in his mouth. Immediately after him came another pony, this one coming straight for me, metal bat in his jaw. Within two seconds, I unharnessed my pistol. Within three, I slipped into SATS, queuing three bullets to his head. Within six, his head exploded in a shower of blood and brains. It was during SATS that I’d recognised him as the pony Candy had threatened, the smaller of the two stallions who’d bothered us.
I glanced over to her, and noticed she’d restrained the stallion, despite him being significantly larger than her. With a swift blow to the head she dazed him, kicked the blade away, then ran over to his buddy, presumably to loot his corpse. While the large stallion was down, I took the opportunity to line up a perfect shot through his temple. Candy turned around the second she heard the gunshot. She stared at the puddle of blood flowing from his head, gasping in shock. “Iron! You just killed somepony!” So what? Wasn’t my first kill. I was just defending myself.
“I… wasn’t supposed to?” I faltered, utterly lost.
“No! I incapacitated him, he was no longer a threat!” she scolded, anger and disappointment oozing from her voice.
“B-but he might have been,” I pleaded, at the edge of tears. For some reason, having her angry at me stung more than anything I’d ever felt. The tears started running down my face. “I j-just wanted to help,” I blubbered, no longer trying to contain my emotions.
Her expression softened, and she approached, then hugged me. I cried on her shoulder, while she gently caressed my back. Part of my mind was soothed by the embrace, while another wondered if I could use sadness as a trick to get out of situations in the future. If I pretended well enough, surely.
Then the first part was appalled by my manipulative thoughts. And it was right, if Candy knew what I had just thought, she would hate me.
Footnote:
New Perk: Telekinetic Sense I — Your telekinesis allows you to feel the finer details of the surface of the objects that you pick up in its aura. Additionally, you no longer need to see what you want to reach with your magic—your sense of touch can now work as well. In practice, this means you can spread your telekinesis inside objects.
New Perk: Teleportation ½ — You can teleport! Sort of. You’re able to teleport diagonally straight down, as long as you aren’t carrying too much weight.
Chapter 6 — Banter
Author's Notes:
As usual, I wanna thank my editor, EverfreePony, and my pre-reader/co-author/idea-bouncing-board, SnakeEye
Google Docs Link
Banter
I woke up from my short nap, and it took me a moment to remember where I was. To my left, the IV bag that had been dripping into me was now empty. Curious, I checked my PipBuck and confirmed that my radiation levels had dropped. This explained why I felt so much better now.
Candy had insisted we visit the doctor after we’d found out there was one in New Detrot. She’d been worried about my radiation ever since she’d seen what my PipBuck said about my irradiation level.
The room was incredibly clean, for wasteland standards. It even compared admirably to the average room back in the stable.
When we’d arrived at the clinic, about five minutes away from the train station, we were greeted by the unicorn ghoul doctor who worked there. We were warned about her appearance by Gust, but seeing her nearly sent me into a fit of panic regardless, even though I knew she was friendly. I was still wondering what was wrong with me.
In the adjacent room, I could hear the doctor talking to Candy in her raspy ghoul voice. “If I could afford it, I would absolutely take you in to train under me full time. As things stand, I couldn’t really compensate you for your work. Of course, if you find the time to help out, I’d more than appreciate your time.” She let out a sound I could only assume was a sigh. “I’ve been meaning to get a new trainee for a while, but it’s gonna be hard if I can’t pay you. If we had more ponies around here, I’m sure I could convince Gust to fund your training.”
“I understand.” Candy sounded dejected. “I’ll try to volunteer when I can, but I can’t guarantee anything. The past few days have been harsh for me and Iron, and making ends meet is hard when all you can really do is run errands.”
It had turned out that even dirty water was fairly expensive, and that well-paying jobs were rare. Ponies just didn’t have many errands they needed run. If you pressed them, they’d remember something that could be done, but were never willing to pay that much for it.
The jobs on the notice board were all either just as cheap, or simply too dangerous for us to attempt.
Of course, I’d suggested we could go after some bounties.
But as expected, Candy shot down that idea.
At first, I couldn’t quite understand why. She’d understood when I killed the raiders, so I didn’t understand why killing other bad ponies wasn’t a good thing in general.
She replied that at best she was still very uncomfortable taking on a job that involved another pony. She didn’t want to play executioner. That not everypony with a bounty on their head was guilty of their crime, and Gust had confirmed that. Besides, it was dangerous.
I ended up reluctantly agreeing and cursed how complicated morality was outside the stable. Back inside it was simple; if it brought prosperity or stability to the stable, it was good, if it did the opposite, it was bad.
I later asked Candy for clarification on why she’d praised me for killing the raiders, if she thought killing was bad.
She explained that she was proud that my actions helped other ponies, but that she herself preferred avoiding murder; that she never wanted to have it become a routine for her or me. I was satisfied with that explanation. I understood why getting used to killing was such a horrible thought to her; I myself had been shocked at my willingness to shoot Stockpile because he might have been an enemy.
I was snapped out of my reverie by Radheart, the doctor, walking into the room. Noticing that I was awake, she said, “Oh, looks like she’s up.”
Candy walked into the room, and the ghoul removed the needle from my foreleg, placing a bandaid where it had been. We were ready now to go on our way. I moved towards my saddlebags, but Radheart cleared her throat and rasped, “Before you two go… let me give you the piece of advice I try to give to everypony: Find your virtue and live by it.” My virtue? As in one of the six virtues attached to the Elements? I was fairly certain Magic loosely fit me, given how strong my horn was. Then again, I didn’t like magic; did that still count? I suppose I didn’t dislike it either.
“What do you mean by that?” Candy asked. “What even is a virtue in this context?” Right, the virtues attached to the Elements were considered advanced material, so it made sense Candy wouldn’t know about them.
“A virtue is what defines you at your core. In the wasteland, it’s all you can cling to when life gets tough. The one thing that lets you stick to your sense of self and, by extension, your sanity,” the ghoul explained.
“Does it have to be one of the six?” I inquired, hoping to gain some recognition for my knowledge. Candy raised an eyebrow, while Radheart looked pleasantly surprised.
“No, it can be any virtue. Mine’s Confidence,” the doctor proudly admitted.
Candy opened her mouth, then hesitated for a moment, before asking, “How do I find it? Is there some sort of trick to it?”
“That’s the hard part. You have to find it for yourself.”
I chipped in, “Isn’t your virtue Kindness, Candy?” She fit the role perfectly, did she not?
She just shook her head. “No, not everything I think is kind.”
“I don’t think that matters,” interjected Radheart, “you are not your thoughts; only your actions define you.” That was a relief.
“Hmm. I still don’t think it fits me that well.”
“I understand,” Radheart replied. I had a hard time thinking of a virtue for myself. Magic clearly wasn’t it, and I doubted confidence matched either. If only I had some sort of grand list of virtues I could read through until I found mine. “One more thing. Once you find your virtue, cling to it and cling to your friends. Your sanity depends on it.” She smiled at us, a confusingly comforting sight, given how ugly she was. “I’ll leave you be now, have a great day. If you ever need any life advice, feel free to stop by!”
I picked up my saddlebags with my teeth—my magic still wasn’t back. According to Candy, it would take a while before I could use it again. The next few weeks would not be fun.
We walked out and found where we’d hidden the wagon and started moving towards the Foal Mountain train station. Our plan was to take the electric heater we’d left behind, and start using it at night to keep ourselves warm. Slowly, this cart we’d so gladly taken from quite possibly the most evil pony I would ever meet, was turning into our new home, as we did our best to make it our own.
I was levitating my rifle in front of me, concentrating on keeping it steady as part of my daily practice, while my mind roamed freely. Occasionally, my attention would wander to my EFS, which stayed empty, save for Candy’s marker.
The past three weeks had been above average. We were two days west of New Detrot, and a day west of Marey Junction. The latter was the last named settlement along the green metro line. Everywhere else along that line, you would occasionally find a small group of ponies living on their own in the ruins.
Most were scavengers and prospectors, living off the things they found and needed and selling off everything else. They’d chosen to live this far north because raiders and bandits weren’t as common, and a peaceful, albeit harsh, life awaited most ponies here.
Some, in the few named settlements, had other jobs. Some were guards or other types of hired guns, while others ran inns or bars. Doctors were few and far between, but there were at least two that I knew of. Others still had occupations that Candy had been too flustered to describe.
Meanwhile, Candy and I had become some of the local errand girls. We accepted most types of jobs. Deliver a message or letter, pick up some ingredients for healing potions from a nearby town—mostly small gems to act as catalysts for healing magic. I didn’t understand the details of the spell, but they were apparently needed to put healing spells into a fluid form. We would also help carry some heavy things. Anything ponies were willing to pay us for, really.
However, over the course of the few weeks, I’d started noticing some odd moments. Some days, I would lose control of my body like I had at Moonshine’s bar. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for the entire day. It really was like a memory orb of my own self.
Our latest job had been delivering a package to somepony’s relative. Every once in a while, we would encounter a feral ghoul or two. They almost never posed any threat, once I got my magic back. Prior to that, there had been scares with me missing shots on the undead beasts, but luckily Candy was always able to protect me.
She and I had bought some cheap paper that I could use for target practice, and I’d spent a significant portion of my free time practicing my markspony skills. Though the limiting factor to how much I was able to train remained the cost of ammunition, despite .22LR rounds being comparatively cheap. Getting accustomed to aiming with my hooves was a doozy, and I was never able to get very tight groupings. Lying down helped, but even then, my hold on the rifle just wasn’t as precise as with my telekinesis. How on Equus did earth ponies do this? Did they even use rifles, or did they stick to muzzleguns?
Naturally, when my horn eventually—finally—recovered, I was thrilled to practice with my magic as well. My groupings were now so tight that I was genuinely surprised. Had my aim improved across the board, or had I just always been this good, just never known it? I doubted the latter, though the former didn’t explain the whole picture either. I’d certainly gotten better at understanding where my shot would land based on my iron sights’ position, but I had a hard time imagining that this alone made me so good at aiming.
As for my firearm’s condition, I’d repaired it a fortnight ago. In hindsight, I should have waited until my horn had recovered, as replacing the damaged parts had proven to be a nightmare without the fine motor skills of my magic. Luckily, I understood the weapon well enough that even though it took several hours, I had still managed to put it back together. It was now in much better overall condition than ever before—and my PipBuck agreed!
However, when I did regain my magic, I also started regularly polishing the gun. Once I was sure my horn wouldn’t give out, I tried to reach that state of telekinetic hypersensitivity again, this time in order to find the irregularities in the metal, and then polish them away on a very small scale. This turned out very effective, as the gun was starting to look close to new. Stars, I love guns and taking care of them.
I holstered my rifle and turned around to notice Candy watching me with a serene smile, which I returned. She then asked, “Are you ready? We should try to get back to ND as soon as we can.” I nodded.
We were walking towards the eastern side of New Detrot. It had been fairly big prior to the megaspells, but now only few ponies inhabited the ghost town. Throughout our errands, the two of us had proven adept enough at killing ghouls, to the point that Gust had decided to hire us specifically to get rid of a flock of ferals that had attacked travellers near the town’s outskirts.
Candy had hesitated at first, talking about the danger, but both Gust and I had managed to convince her. Still, he sent a mercenary along with us just to make sure the job would get done. Or maybe he was concerned for us, but I doubted that; he was too serious a business-bird to care.
I realised that this technically made us mercenaries as well, and that maybe this fact had caused Candy to hesitate a little as well. Though I figured that clearing a pack of ghouls was far enough removed from the idea of bounty hunting that she was alright with it.
Gale, who’d been walking next to us, stopped and spoke up, “We’re getting close to the place. I’ll fly up and scout ahead.”
Less than a minute later, she returned, and we talked through a plan. We had a tall building that would act as the perfect vantage point for Gale and I, though she would back Candy up on the ground if things got heated. Meanwhile, I had no reason to leave the safety of the mall roof.
I momentarily wondered why Gale couldn’t just shoot from an airborne vantage point, but realised how impossibly difficult it would be to aim while flapping your wings. If anything, she’d need to glide circles around the pack, and that would leave her in an optimal firing position only once per revolution. It would probably work fairly well against opponents who could shoot back—she could minimise the likelihood of getting hit thanks to flying maneuvers. As it stood, however, staying on the roof was clearly the best strategy.
I started walking towards the building’s front entrance when the griffin called out, “Don’t bother, I can just fly you up.”
I agreed and undid my saddlebags, and she grabbed my barel under my forelegs, before lifting me into the air. The short flight felt… exhilarating. I giggled gleefully as I was transported through the air. Only when my eyes wandered downward did I feel the sudden but visceral fear of plummeting to the ground. Thankfully, by that point we were already almost on the roof.
The griffin pointed down the road, and I could see a group of—I took a moment to count them—twenty or so ghouls, about seventy metres away. That was a distance I wasn’t perfectly comfortable sniping from just yet. One hundred metres practice left me with a spread that was less than ideal for live targets, especially given how much easier it was to aim at a stationary target. I was to give the first shot—likely because Gale didn’t trust me to be very useful once they started moving. And I wanted to prove her wrong.
I adjusted my iron sights to the fifty metre notch, and the griffin gave me a look that unambiguously said “take your time, kiddo”. This was one of the few good occasions where taking a mint was justified. I levitated the box out of my harness’ pocket—much better spot to keep them than my saddlebags—and placed it on my tongue.
Gale was staring at me with an expression that reminded me of Airwaves’ a few weeks back. Shocked and perplexed, but also apparently uncomfortable. However, as I challenged her judging gaze, she didn’t voice her thoughts and just looked away. This was something I would need to ask Candy about.
Growing impatient, and feeling that everyone was waiting for me, I started chewing on the piece of candy until all of it had melted in my mouth. It felt like a waste to eat it this quickly and not take the time to enjoy the taste, but I was already starting to feel the effects.
I levitated out my rifle and momentarily marvelled at how stable my telekinesis felt under the effects of the sugar rush. Then I pointed it at the mob of ghouls, aiming for the head of the closest one. Now that I was paying closer attention to the pack, I noticed the one in the middle seemed to glow a slight neon green colour. I adjusted my aim to its head instead, then channeled more power into my aura.
My experience in the metro, as well as later during practice, had taught me that controlling recoil helped reduce spread in my groupings, and holding the rifle almost perfectly still improved my accuracy further.
I pulled the trigger and watched as bright fluid erupted from the ghoul’s head. To my utter surprise, however, it kept moving. And move it did. The entire flock turned towards me and started to gallop. Next to me, Gale whispered, “Nice shot…”
I followed the glowy one with my iron sights, and when the opportunity presented itself, I shot again. This time, it fell. I immediately switched targets to another ghoul and shot, only to miss. Be more patient, idiot.
I waited until I knew it would hit, then took another shot, felling a feral. I repeated the action twice until I knew my magazine was empty. Next to me, Gale was firing her own rifle, the much larger bore making my own sound puny in comparison.
Grabbing a clip from my harness, I pushed it into the magazine through the open chamber, then adjusted my iron sights to the twenty metre notch. At this distance, the trajectory of the shots was almost a straight line anyway, so it didn’t matter much, but it did feel wrong to use the incorrect setting.
Once the group reached Candy, more than three quarters of them had been culled by our combined efforts. Shooting at the crowd, I could observe how gracefully Candy wielded her shotgun, while throwing powerful kicks at ghouls right after. Soon, the entire original group was dispatched, but a few new ghouls had been roused by the noise and were running over.
A few minutes later, that particular street of New Detrot was again free of ghouls.
I sat next to Candy in front of our campfire, empty cooking pot between us. With our proximity to the forest, red bars would continuously blink in and out of existence.
Once a week, we were able to budget for fresh produce, and the food that resulted from it was always delicious. Because neither Candy nor I had much experience cooking, it was always a similar, very basic stew. However, it was so refreshing to get to eat some real food that neither of us minded.
I gave a satisfied yawn. Our Sunday dinner was always big enough that I’d be satiated halfway through my portion, but would keep eating anyway. It was easy to eat large meals when it was this good. Or rather, when it was this much better than what I normally ate. I missed stable food.
Candy, who’d finished her bowl a few minutes ago, spoke up as I levitated mine on top of hers, “So, yesterday Gale talked to me about something.” I perked up, perplexed. Candy sounded worried and almost… careful?
“Yes?” Could it be about my mints? I would have excluded it, but both Gale and Airwaves had given me weird looks, and things were looking odd. Though I still couldn’t really understand why. I doubted it was a silly explanation like envy.
“She told me she saw you take mint-als,” she deadpanned. So it was the candy.
“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?” I wondered. Probably the best way to ask it.
“You… really don’t know?” I shook my head in reply. “Hmm…” She took a moment to think about her next words. “You know that’s a drug… right?” The hesitation in her voice was abundantly clear. Why was she so hesitant?
“It is? How is it used to cure ponies? That’s what drugs are, right? They cure ponies.”
“Well, this one can help ponies with concentration issues stay productive. A general description would include an increase in one’s ability to think logically as well as creatively. The biggest issue is that a lot of ponies who don’t need it abuse it and get addicted.” She calmly explained, her tone betraying her reluctance about the topic.
I still didn’t fully understand. “What do you mean by ‘addicted’? I don’t think I’ve encountered this word before.” I hoped phrasing it like that would hide my cluelessness, but I had my doubts. I didn’t need another ‘what’s sex’ moment, after all.
She raised an eyebrow and proceeded to give me an explanation of the physical and mental process of addiction, and as she went on, I found myself understanding those oddly strong cravings for my mints. On one hoof, it was reassuring that there was a biological explanation for how I felt. On the other, it was eerie that a chemical could produce such feelings in me. I’d always assumed it was just me longing for the taste, but thinking of it like that… revolted me. How could I let that control me?
‘Withdrawal’ also explained what I’d previously thought to be a sugar crash.
“Where did you even find this box? How many did you take?” inquired Candy.
“In the train station at the foot of the mountain. Was already mostly empty, so I only took four—” I recounted the occurrences in my head. “—no, five over the past month or so.”
“I always knew this packaging was incredibly dangerous. What were pre-bomb ponies thinking? You can’t package drugs like candy. Foals might find them and even smart ones might not realise they shouldn’t take them!” ranted the unicorn. Then, her face took on a confused expression. “But I wonder… You must have noticed the effect… Not to mention, you never took them in my presence. Were you trying to hide it from me? Are you lying to me, Iron?”
Only thing worse than being caught lying was being accused of lying when you weren’t. “I’m not, I swear. I just knew the effects as a ‘sugar rush’, instead of thinking that it was medicine. As for why I never took them in your presence… I just… didn’t want to share…” While it was true that sometimes she just happened to not be nearby, I hadn’t exactly been willing to share either.
For a moment, I thought she wasn’t going to believe me as her expression turned to consternation, but then she relaxed and giggled. “That’s such an oddly innocent reason to hide a drug addiction. Though I’m surprised you assumed this was a universal thing for sugar. Did you not have any other types of candy as a foal?” My thoughts moved to the vending machines connected to the mysterious fourth floor. Those sold other candies, didn’t they?
“Nah, this was the only one Mother let me.”
Candy’s face immediately turned stone cold again, concern and anger prevalent. “Your mother. She let you take it? Did I understand that correctly?”
Oh. I hadn’t realised this until now. I didn’t understand the implications previously. But now… “She did, yes, and I’m just now coming to understand how messed up that could be seen as.” There had to be some explanation. Maybe she didn’t know? No, unlikely, she was a smart mare. Or maybe…? I couldn’t exclude it. “Could it be that she just didn’t know it was bad?”
“I highly doubt that, but maybe you can give me more details. How did she come around to giving it to you? She already has a bad track record.” She then muttered to herself, “Fuck, I can’t believe this…”
“A few years ago she gave me one of those candies—I mean, mint-als. Ever since she’s been letting me have one a week.” That didn’t sound like behaviour from somepony unaware of the risks, did it? There had to be a reason, though.
“That’s… horrible,” she mumbled. “I can’t imagine Auntie being so awful…”
“I… I’m sure there’s got to be a reason. Mother wouldn’t just hurt me. Maybe there are long term benefits?”
Candy simply deadpanned. Yeah, she’s right. You don’t believe it either, do you? “Or maybe, she was willing to get you addicted if it helped her groom you into the perfect overmare.” Her tone was cold with fury, but I knew her anger wasn’t directed at me.
There was a pregnant pause until she spoke up again, “Iron, I understand it’s hard to believe. I understand that you see her as your one good parent, but… I don’t think she’s good. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt when you told me how she kept you in the dark about sex. I was willing to buy that her reluctance to tell you could have been accidental. But twice in a row can’t be an accident. I wonder what else she kept from you.” Continuing, “Fuck, I’m ready to bet you guys didn’t even have books on either subject matter.”
I bit my lip and held back tears. “It’s still so hard to believe…”
“I understand,” she said softly, embracing me. “But I think the sooner you accept that she’s a bad pony, the quicker you can move on and stop her influence on your life.”
I nodded, on the verge of tears, and pressed my face into her neck and shoulder, quietly sobbing for a few minutes. My mind was blank except for the hurt of betrayal.
After I calmed down, I freed myself from the hug and sniffled. I was embarrassed to have left snot and tears on her coat. I opened my saddlebags with my magic, levitating out the tin of mint-als. I took one last look at it, then threw it into the fire. I doubted the actual box would be destroyed, but it was more of a symbolic act than anything else. Selling them would have been the optimal choice, but this felt like the right one.
I sighed, and she embraced me again. We sat there for a while longer, in a sad, thoughtful silence. Ironically, I felt the best I ever had. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. Finally, I knew I had made the right choice leaving the stable. I still didn’t know why my mother would expose me to something like that, but I knew that she did. It really was time to let go, wasn’t it?
Later that night, as we went to bed, I found myself unable to fall asleep. Instead, I felt this weird trance take me over once again, like it had in Moonshine’s bar. I left my cousin’s embrace and went outside. Closing the door, I sat down on the ridge of the wagon and started reading data entries in my PipBuck. I couldn’t understand why, as I already knew everything written there. And yet, despite the emptiness of my EFS, I felt anxious. Terrified, even.
Eventually, the cold caught up to me, and I shivered. I went back inside, cuddled up with Candy, and slowly fell asleep.
Footnote:
New Perk: Repair — You are now able to significantly restore an object’s condition using this complex spell. In order to do so, however, you need to understand how the object functions. In other words, to use this spell, you need to have the knowledge of how to repair the object given the raw materials and tools.
New Quest Perk: Steady Telekinesis II — The steadying of your telekinesis is now second nature to you, allowing you exceptional stability when holding objects. Additionally, when you concentrate, you’re able to reach nigh-perfect stability with your aura.
For the first time in a few weeks, I was awake before Iron. Careful not to wake her up, I left the wagon, levitating my jumpsuit behind me. I always felt vulnerable without my armour, oh so vulnerable. But getting it out of the cart would likely be noisy, and I just wanted to go for a small run. My EFS was perfectly empty, if I didn’t count Iron’s green bar.
My mind momentarily flashed the terrifying memory of that foggy night, when I thought some animal had killed my little cousin, only to have her shoot me instead.
I immediately pushed the thought to the back of my mind. It wasn’t her fault. It was all just a misunderstanding. She didn’t mean to shoot me, and I knew it. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to relax. Blaming her for any of this would only make life harder for her, and for no good reason. Poor filly’s already been through enough. It was my job to protect her, make her life easier, not harder.
We’d stayed in the garage of the abandoned building we were always using to conceal our cart. The house itself was a fairly normal, if high class, mansion close to the outskirts of what had once been Foal Junction. The garage entrance was rather well hidden, so even though most parts of the old house were slowly falling apart, this large room was perfect to hide in.
Technically, we could have slept in the mansion’s old bedrooms, but neither of us had ever preferred that over our familiar wagon. Once we’d dissociated the idea of that pony from it, mostly out of spite for the buck, it became our new home. Leaving it for some old mansion felt wrong.
I exited the building and took a small jog, like I’d tried to every day since we’d reached New Detrot. While it was good for my body, it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Every other day, I would end up running to or away from ghouls. The rest I was pulling our home around. No, I really didn’t need additional endurance training, though I did still find moments for some strength training.
My mental health, however, benefited greatly from those jogs. It was the moment of the day where I just let loose and allowed my legs to take over.
I normally never felt worried when leaving Iron while I went for a jog, since I knew she could defend herself, though anxiety still gnawed at the back of my mind as I remembered that she was still asleep. I tried to hush it by justifying that I knew she wasn’t in any danger whatsoever, and it mostly worked, as I was finally able to enjoy my run.
After I returned, I noticed Iron had finally gotten up. She wasn’t wearing her usual cold and calculating expression. Instead, she looked curious, sad, and a little scared, all emotions that only appeared on her face when we were alone—at least that I’d noticed.
This new side of her was likely her own way of opening up to me, and it was through it that I had realised that she really was just a filly. Her usual rational and closed-off front was just a façade for the scared filly inside.
“Good morning, Iron,” I said, and she replied the same, in an unexpectedly meek voice.
We then had breakfast and made for the train station.
We entered the main hall, and I quickly noticed a new face sitting at a merchant table: a yellow earth pony buck, orange bangs covering his left cheek. When he noticed my gaze, he returned it with his deep blue eyes.
Fuck, why was such an attractive buck here? We happened to need a few things, but there was no way I could haggle with someone who could make me melt with one look!
Before I could come up with a plan, however, Iron had already walked up to his stand and was casually asking him his name. That was a pleasant surprise, as I’d never seen her approach somepony like that. Maybe it was because he was roughly my age, unlike the vast majority of the local ponies?
My mind returned to Equus just in time to hear his reply. “I’m Banter. You?” he returned the question, his voice was smooth as silk.
“Iron Sonata. And this is Candy Cane,” she replied, pointing towards me. “She’s my older sister. Anyway, you were in Marey Junction a few weeks ago, right?” Hearing her refer to me as her sibling warmed my heart and made me happy, but I had a feeling she wasn’t saying it purely out of sentimentality.
His expression turned curious, “You were there too? I don’t remember seeing you.”
Iron smirked, answering, “I caught a glimpse of your group as you were leaving, I was surprised to see other ponies our age.” I had a spike of envy of her eyesight right there, but I pushed it aside, focusing on more positive things. Iron was trying to make friends!
“You sound like you’re new around here. What’s your story?”
“The standard, pretty much. Parents died half a year ago, and we’ve been trying to get by ever since.” Wait, why was she blatantly lying? I didn’t want to interrupt her thing, but she would owe me an explanation later.
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. So you’re scavengers like us, then?”
“Not really. We mostly just run errands. Deliver letters, help kill some ghouls, rescue irresponsible and airheaded radio hosts from another pack of ferals, things like that.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that last remark.
“So, you two are basically guns for hire?”
Finding an opportunity to enter the conversation, I spoke up, “Not really. We don’t accept to kill ponies for payment. Though it would be dishonest to say we can’t be paid to kill ghouls.” Oh Luna, why did I have to word it like that? I sounded like I was showing off.
“Ah, interesting. I can understand why, to be honest.” He gave me a smile, and I cursed my weak heart. What was wrong with me? I didn’t even know him! “Would you like to buy anything?”
“Yeah, we’ve been meaning to get a bedsheet or some kind of soft cloth to put on a mattress. Figured if anypony has something like that, it would be a prospector. Of course, we have a very limited budget.” Oh, there I went trying to sound cool again. Somepony please muzzle me.
He dug around behind himself and pulled out different cloths that roughly matched the description. We picked the cheapest one, given that it was good enough. I packed the folded bedsheet into my saddlebags. When we turned around to get to another table, he asked us, “Are you two interested in a job? I could give you the details tonight at Moonshine’s. If not, do you want to just… hang out there?”
Iron and I shared looks and nodded at each other. Then, I replied, “Sure!” If today’s had us go far from town, we’d surely not be able to join him. However, the two of us hadn’t really talked to anypony outside of business in a few weeks, so I wanted to at least socialise a little when we had the chance. I’d been planning to get in touch with Airwaves sometime soon, though I would have preferred hanging out with her sober; Iron had seemed completely out of it during our last trip to the bar.
Afterwards, we went to buy some ammunition. Luckily, Iron always kept our guns in perfect condition, so we never needed to rely on others for repair or maintenance, and the only thing we needed from this pony were bullets, shells, and slugs. Then we walked over to Gust and took a glimpse at the notice board behind the griffin.
Looking through the different tasks, Iron complained how menial most of them were. A few weeks ago, we would have reluctantly accepted a job that involved cleaning an old building—we even had taken on a similar one. Now, however, we were more interested in the slightly more dangerous and well-paying tasks. Of course, we avoided real danger as much as we could, but many ponies were—understandably—scared of ghouls, and yet needed something from an infested area. Meanwhile, Iron and I understood the danger, but didn’t overestimate it, and we also knew our limits; a few ferals were definitely within our ability to handle.
Finally, my eyes settled on a familiar name. Airwaves was offering a job? I took a closer look. She apparently needed somepony to reactivate a relay north of here. It had been taken over by raiders who’d shut down the tower. That was when I lost interest in the offer. I would not murder somepony—fucked up or no—just to make money.
Another voice nagged in my head, however. Raiders were terrible ponies, weren’t they? Would it really be bad if I got rid of them? After all, Iron had helped out the region quite a bit by killing that group near Foal Mountain.
No. I mean yes. I mean, she did cause good, but I wasn’t going to become an executioner. It wasn’t up to me to decide who should live or die. Then, an obvious thought crossed my mind. The job was out of the question anyway, as it was much too dangerous to begin with. Those ponies would shoot back if we tried to get rid of them, they weren’t like dumb ghouls.
Then, another thought crossed my mind. What if we could negotiate with them? Airwaves hadn’t written anything about a peaceful negotiation, so I could only wonder. Iron must have noticed me staring, as she said, “Please tell me we’re not taking that one. The payment is Stars-awful, and it sounds incredibly risky.”
I shook my head, then turned my attention to other posters. Eventually, Iron and I settled on a simple job we could do today. We would help carry supplies from the train station to a building that was being renovated. Apparently they were planning on making it into an inn. Since we were working under Gust, the payment was at least worth our time.
As evening came by, we were walking towards Moonshine’s bar. I was physically exhausted, having carried heavy crates on my back for the better part of seven hours, and Iron told me she had a headache and overall seemed very tired. She’d helped by carrying smaller things on her, and levitating a few heavier objects. Though I suspected long-term mint-al withdrawal was also a bit of a culprit here.
She was lucky the box she’d found was almost empty, given that the only reason she hadn’t started taking them daily—or even worse, multiple a day—was out of fear of running out. If she’d done that, her addiction would have been much harder to deal with. As it stood, she would have to endure those headaches for a few more months until her brain learned to function without them entirely, but she seemed to understand perfectly that she needed to resist the urges, and I was incredibly proud of her.
As much as I regretted leaving the stable and everything bad that had come from that choice, I was glad I’d managed to save Iron from her mother. She’d gotten hurt really bad, but I genuinely believed that she would heal mentally, and I’d make it my duty to protect her physically and give her the kindness she needed to grow into a good pony.
I would make my hurt mean something. My mind flashed pictures of Silv—no! Push that thought back. I didn’t have time for this. I couldn’t afford to make Iron worry about me. It happened a month ago, could I please stop getting memories of it whenever I stopped paying attention where my mind wandered? Iron needed me. She didn’t need a broken mess that couldn’t take care of herself. I was out here because of her, and I would make sure she would be alright.
Getting nightmares about it was already bad enough, and I wished my mind would leave me be during the day. How much longer would I have to suffer from this? I needed to be strong. For Iron.
“Hey, Candy, are you alright?” she suddenly asked me. Luna fuck me aggressively, I must have been making a face. I swear, nothing gets by this filly.
“Oh yeah, I was just thinking about today’s job,” I blatantly lied.
She groaned in response. “Ugh, yeah. The money’s good, but stars, does my horn hurt. I swear I was a minute away from burnout.” Her words piqued my interest.
Curiously, I asked her, “I noticed you started swearing by the stars lately, is there any reason for that?”
“Well, you know I wasn’t brought up religious. But when I saw through that hole in the sky a few weeks ago, something odd awoke in me. I’m not exactly sure how to describe it, but I was mesmerised. I still dream of them every so often.” Interesting.
We finally arrived at Moonshine’s bar, where we met Banter. To my surprise, a young mare and a filly—about Iron’s age—sat next to him at the table. Weren’t they a bit young to have a daughter? Then again, some ponies thought I was Iron’s mother, so maybe I’d extrapolated too far. Or maybe they were just siblings, why did my mind jump to the least logical conclusion first?
“Evening. You look… tired,” said the buck.
“Good evening,” I replied, taking a seat. “You could say so. We had a long day.”
Iron then asked the two other ponies, “Hey. I remember you two, what are your names?”
The gorgeous buck encouraged them with a glance, and the dark blue filly replied shily, “My name’s Lockpick, n-nice to meet you.”
He nudged the grey-pink mare next to her, who spoke up in a flat, unenthused voice, “I’m Petal.”
Before the conversation could derail, Banter said, “Like I said earlier, I’m looking to employ you two. Would you care for a drink?” He pointed at the Sparkle-Cola bottles on the table, that I hadn’t paid attention to until now.
I could tell Iron was hesitant about accepting it, so I asked in her stead, “This is non-alcoholic, right?”
Iron sighed, and Banter raised an eyebrow. “Yes, indeed.”
Both of us then accepted a drink, and I was pleasantly surprised by the prickly feeling and the sweet and tart taste. I took a bigger swig from the bottle and sighed, content. Iron seemed to be enjoying it as well.
“So, I’m looking to hire you two as guards,” Banter told us.
“But I told you we don’t do mercenary work,” I protested.
“The point wouldn’t be to protect us from ponies, however. We’re mostly looking to scavenge in some parts of the Detrot industrial zone, and just to get there we need to walk along the eastern railroad tracks. The wildlife there can be… troublesome.” He took a sip of his own Sparkle-Cola. “Not to mention the ghouls and robots that will be awaiting us up there.”
“Interesting. What’s the pay?” inquired… my sister. It did feel nice to think of her as that. I wanted to protest her accepting without asking for my input, but she probably guessed that this had settled my qualms. Besides, she hadn’t accepted anything, she’d just asked about the payment.
“Ten caps a day, but we provide food and water. I would love to pay you more, but I’m afraid this is all we can really afford.” That explained why he wasn’t looking to hire real mercs. But it was still a pretty good rate, I had to admit.
“What about ammo?” Right, forgot about that. Thanks, Iron.
“We can’t exactly buy you tons of it, but if it’s needed to keep us safe, we can cover a few dozen rounds.”
I looked at Iron, and we seemed to agree. She spoke up, “Candy and I need to talk this through in private, we’ll be right back.”
She followed me outside, and I asked her, “Do you think we should trust them?”
“No,” she replied flatly, confirming my doubts. “However, we shouldn’t have to trust them. If we’ll be travelling with them, we can sleep away from them, and we need to negotiate our own terms for the food and water.” That made sense, given our past experiences with poisoned food. “However, at the same time, but from the way they act, I suspect they truly aren’t that great at defending themselves. I could be wrong, but they seem to be more pacifist types.” How did she figure that out? How is she this much smarter than me? And why didn’t she say anything when we were at Stockpile’s and— Stop. I wasn’t going to blame her for what happened to me.
“You mean they wouldn’t doublecross us because they need us?”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t bet my life on it, and I don’t really wanna trust them in any case.”
“I understand. As much as, what was her name…? Right, Lockpick. She seems too young to really want to hurt anypony, but I can’t really trust Petal or Banter out of nowhere, even though they might be younger than me.”
“So, let’s try to aim for thirty caps a day, but this will probably have to vary. We can’t accept anything below twenty-five, though.”
I nodded in reply, and we went back inside where we discussed the price. Banter ended up very understanding of our reservations, and we wound up agreeing on twenty-seven caps a day. We wouldn’t be making a huge profit, but it would give us an opportunity to see a different region. Not to mention, we still weren’t paying for ammunition, and Iron could maintain our weapons at no cost.
“But I wonder, why us in particular?” I asked.
“We were stuck for a few weeks in Hollow Shades, and we heard from Gust that you two cleared the raider nest that stopped us from leaving,” he explained.
“Actually, that was just me,” Iron interjected. “Candy and I were separated at the time.”
“Riiight.” His tone of voice indicated that he didn’t believe a single word of that, but he didn’t explicitly state it. Iron’s face told me she wanted to challenge him on his skepticism, but ultimately, neither of them said anything.
In the slightly awkward silence, I asked, “Has the green line always been so populated? It seems like every few stops there’s a couple or a family.”
He seemed relieved at the change of topic and happy to make small talk. “It’s just the safest one, and it’s so long that everypony can find a ‘piece of paradise’.”
“You… don’t seem convinced,” I responded, tilting my head.
“It’s not that. It’s just that our dream is to make it into Tenpony Tower, and we won’t settle for anything less. It’s gonna take a few years, but we’re well on our way. Most residents there are like us, experienced scavengers.”
“Tenpony Tower?” I asked.
“An old MAS building in Manehattan. Survived the bombs really well, and its current day inhabitants are high class ponies. Or, at least, it’s what they want us to believe; at the end of the day, they’re just scavengers.” MAS? Oh, the Ministry of Arcane Science. Right.
“I’m surprised the zebras didn’t reduce it to dust,” my sister commented. “Manehattan's MAS hub was amongst the biggest in Equestria. It had to be a target.” My head hurt at even the idea of History classes.
“I dunno, I think there was a barrier around the building. From what I’ve been told, at least.”
Our conversation moved away from History and onto more interesting topics. Eventually, we eventually left the bar and agreed to meet up at the train station at sunrise the next day, to make a contract with Gust as our witness and get moving.
“W-wait, you’re younger than m-me?” Lockpick quietly sputtered after learning Iron’s age. The latter raised an eyebrow.
“I guess so. Why is that so surprising? It’s not the first time I’ve been told I don’t look my age, but I can’t really tell why,” she replied in her usual calm tone.
“W-well…” she stammered. “For one, you’re taller than me. You also have that look on your face. That look adults have, I’m not really sure how to describe it.”
Banter was younger than me, while Petal was a bit older, effectively making me the second oldest in our ragtag group.
We were currently sitting around a campfire, surrounded by a dense conifer forest, after a long day of walking. Iron and I were leaning against each other. I hadn’t taken off my armour, and she still wore her harness. Part of why was that we still didn’t fully trust these ponies, but we were also our two best fighters. Iron had mentioned that her EFS had been swarming with red bars that were constantly blinking in and out of existence, so this was another reason to stay careful. She’d been extremely worried for a few hours, but this worry eventually turned to pure vigilance. Meanwhile, mine was still devoid of red bars. How was her PipBuck this much better than mine? Or maybe hers was just faulty, since we’d never once been attacked?
My attention was dragged back to the conversation as Banter spoke up, “By the way, how long ago did you two leave the stable?” Iron seemed taken aback by this question. Come to think of it, I’d never asked her why she’d lied about this.
“You knew? And you hired us regardless?” Iron stammered. She never expected ponies to see through her lies, did she? Makes me wonder what else she’s lied about…
“Well, you knew to hide that fact. Means that you either have a lot more common sense than the average stable dweller, or that you’ve already had your trust taken advantage of.” My thoughts darted to Silver, but I chased them to the memory of protecting Iron in the metro instead. I was her protector, and I was strong.
“I… see.” She hesitated. “If I may ask, what is it that gave it away?” Then, before Banter could reply, she added, “We’ve been out here for a bit less than five months.” Another lie, huh?
“The Stable-Tec attire in and of itself isn’t a dead giveaway—especially not around Detrot, given the griffins’ history—but combined with the way you talk, it pretty much is.” Come to think of it, my barding had drawn suspiciously little attention, hadn’t it?
“The way we talk?” I asked, confused.
I was expecting Banter to explain, but instead, Iron told me. “Our speech patterns and pronunciation are much more refined than the average wastelander’s. From what I’ve noticed, at least. Given our education, we probably stand out like sore horns out here, if we talk to someone who knows to look for it.” That did make sense… “However, that raises the question… Banter, your speech mannerisms are also fairly refined, did you also grow up in a stable?”
He shook his head, then lifted his shirt, turning to show us his cutie mark. A single speech bubble adorned his flanks on each side. “Does that answer your question?”
Iron simply chuckled in reply. “I notice you all have cutie marks closely relating to your names, were you just all lucky?”
This time, it was Lockpick, whose cutie mark I noticed to be a padlock with a bobby pin, who answered in her meek voice, “No, we changed our names to match our marks. Helps build trust if ponies remember your name, so it’s a good thing to have a simple name that matches your cutie mark. Banter helped us choose, actually.”
I raised an eyebrow and said, “And what names would you give us? If it isn’t too much effort to come up with them on the spot, that is.”
“Yours is fine. Easy to remember, and it fits with your entire look. Really, a flawless name for a pony like you.” He turned his gaze to Iron. “You… you don’t really have any particular look, so it’s hard to tell. I’d probably just call you after your cutie mark.”
Iron replied, “My cutie mark is a rifle. Similar to the one on my back, but clearly a bigger calibre.” I was surprised that she was showing this much interest in the conversation. She was always so cold and distant when talking to adults, yet clearly had a logical plan for the conversation. I’d made the mistake of assuming she just didn’t care about anyone other than me, but maybe she just needed to meet ponies of our age to start opening up. I did still wish she would be more open with me about her inner thoughts, but I was happy that she at least acted friendly towards new ponies. A step in the right direction.
“I don’t know. Maybe Bolt Action? Iron Sights? Both are alright, and the latter even resembles your given name.” Those did indeed roll off the tongue a bit better, but I still felt like they didn’t fit Iron that well. Maybe I was wrong.
The rest of the evening was spent discussing our cutie marks—a fairly mundane topic, all things considered, but it did help us get a feeling for each other. Banter was pretty open and overall friendly and always seemed to know what to say and how to say it, as illustrated by his cutie mark.
Lockpick seemed reserved, shy, and almost scared of us. She seemed like a good filly, but I suspected she’d been abused. Or maybe she was just introverted by nature. Regardless, when I heard her speak, all I wanted to do was keep her safe and show her kindness. Her cutie mark represented her ability to… pick locks. Shocker.
Petal, on the other hoof, was the opposite of kind. She was reserved, but not in a shy way. She seemed to not care about the world around her in the slightest. Her only remarks were snide and bitter. I hated that bitch. No. She was probably just having a couple of rough days, I shouldn’t be judging her. Her cutie mark was a single cherry petal, that she’d apparently gotten by taking care of the tree near her cottage as a foal.
Neither Iron nor I dared ask what happened to their parents.
Two days later, we were sitting around another campfire, holding a casual conversation. Then, Banter spoke up, “Speaking of bandages, there’s a hospital south of Detrot. From what my source told me, the loot should be pretty good. The only downside, and I presume it’s part of the reason for my source’s claim, is that it’s apparently infested with ghouls. Reason I’m bringing it up is because we’d like your help looting the place.”
“How infested?” interjected Iron. “We’ve dealt with pretty big packs before, but we’ve also had to run away from veritable mobs of those creatures.”
“They didn’t give me exact numbers, but definitely more than what the average scavenger would wanna deal with,” he replied. “Anyway, we’d split the profits with you, as part of your payment, of course.”
Iron and I leaned into each other, and she whispered, “I would be down for it. If they’re willing to risk it, it must be profitable.” I agreed with her, and she fiddled with her PipBuck, before asking Banter, “Would you mind repeating that promise? On the record, this time.”
I walked through the broken door and into the hospital. I’d acted as a decoy and led away a huge crowd of ghouls. A single shotgun shell aimed at the sky, and the entirety of the ferals in front of the building ran after me. Not only that, but a large portion of the mob had seemingly been inside at first. I’d ran for ten minutes before losing them, at which point I made my way back to the clinic.
In the lobby stood a large statue. After moving closer, I recognised one of my personal heroes—Fluttershy. I had a moment of reverence before I turned my attention to something else.
My EFS now showed four green bars, one of them occasionally flickering red—most likely Iron’s. It had a tendency to do that when she was hiding. As I turned to the receptionist’s desk, they came out from hiding, and Iron whispered, “Did you lose them?” I nodded in reply.
Banter then declared, “Good. We didn’t want to start looking through this place without our best fighter, in case there were more of them that hadn’t followed you. Now, we should split up and search the reception area.”
My EFS was empty of threats, but Iron told me there were a few red bars further inside the building. We split off to start looking through the reception. Iron stayed at the receptionist’s deck and started checking inside the drawers, while Petal and Banter each found small rooms they started searching. Petal was scouring what looked like a janitor’s closet, while Banter was in a restroom. I moved towards the waiting room, and noticed that Lockpick was also heading towards that area.
A few skeletons sat on the chairs, while many more bones were scattered on the floor. Lockpick started looking under the seats, finding ancient bags—presumably belonging to the ponies who’d died here when the bombs fell. How many ponies had come here with radiation poisoning in hopes of being saved, only to perish in the waiting room?
Something didn’t add up, however. There were much more bags than there were skeletons. So this was where the ghouls came from. Though I had to wonder—were there more? Ghouls had a tendency to blend in with their surroundings when they weren’t moving, but there were no piles of leaves in here that they could be hidden in, so I wanted to think most of them had followed me out.
I helped Lockpick go through the bags, and we found a number of valuables. Most of it was junk, but we did find a few watches that would supposedly sell well, as well as several types of chems. I didn’t like taking the mint-als, given Iron’s problems, but I couldn’t deny that they would likely sell for a pretty sum. It pained me to leave behind bits, but they were almost entirely worthless at this point. Their only point was for vending machines, and it was generally simpler to just break into those. They weighed just a little too much to be worth it, though keeping a few on oneself was generally a good idea.
Afterwards, we regrouped in the main lobby, and Banter told us, “I think we should split up; I’ll take the third storey, Petal the second, Candy the first, and finally Lockpick and Iron will look through the rest of the ground floor. I know I don’t have to say this, but be careful and stay quiet. We’re going for a superficial sweep first, to see if there are still any dangers. If you find a ghoul in a room, close the door and let Candy deal with it later; she can do it much quieter than us. Any questions?” Nopony had questions. It was only then I noticed both had some pistols attached to their saddlebags, where they could easily grab them with their muzzles.
I climbed my way up the stairs, and momentarily parted ways with the others. This floor was made up of two corridors, and I picked the left one. On both outer sides, doors led to patient chambers, while the rooms between the hallways seemed to be reserved for staff. I decided to focus on the central part, given that most medical equipment was likely stored there.
I went for an open door to my right, but as I trotted past a room, I noticed a brownish pink mass lying on the ground. A ghoul. It didn’t seem to have noticed me, so I enveloped the door with my lavender-pink aura and slowly closed it. Even if I could kill it without firing a gun, smashing a skull wasn’t exactly quiet, either. To my absolute horror, a red bar appeared as the beast woke up, having heard the motion.
A few incredibly tense seconds went by before its marker disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered the examination room, closed the door behind me, and started rummaging through the closets. I managed to find several vials of Med-X, a few bottles of antiseptic, packages of gauze, and rolls of bandage—both magical and regular. Was that a shriek I just heard? Anyway, this was a gold mine! If other exam rooms had a similar inventory—
My amazement was cut short by a gunshot, echoing through the corridors. I bolted back into the hallway, noticing too many red bars starting to pop up all around me. I couldn’t see anypony on my floor, so I simply ran towards the stairs. I couldn’t tell where the shot had come from, so I could only hope that by the time I arrived at the stairway, I’d know where I was needed.
Partway to my goal, another shot rang out. This time, I could tell it came from below me. Iron!
Shot after shot rang out as I sprinted downstairs, missing a step and nearly tripping and falling down. Finally, the lower floor came into view, and I saw a mass of brownish pink enclosing on—presumably—Iron, with Lockpick cowering behind her, backs against a wall. I cursed my eyesight as I continued my way downwards. Why were there so many ghouls all of a sudden?
Iron kept mowing down ghouls with what I assumed to be her shotgun, but the blob of ghouls barely shrank, constantly moving forward, completely surrounding them. When I was finally behind the crowd, I noticed something horrifying. More and more were streaming out from the rooms all around the floor. My terror doubled as the gunshot noises changed. Iron is out of ammo. She didn’t have time to reload the shotgun, and she knew it. The shots were starting to get less and less regular, growing increasingly panicked, until they eventually stopped.
I’d failed.
Footnote: Level up!
New Perk: Piercing Strike — Your melee and unarmed attacks ignore 15 points of DT
Skill Note: Unarmed — 100
Chapter 7 — The Scavenger Life
Author's Notes:
As usual, shoutout and thanks to my proof-reader slash co-author SnakeEye, and my editor, EverfreePony.
Here’s the gdocs link.
The Scavenger Life
The zombies were drawing closer, and I’d just emptied my shotgun. Panicked, I pulled out my 10mm pistol, undid the safety and started shooting. As expected, it wasn’t nearly as effective as the shotgun, but I just didn’t have time to reload that one. I felt myself starting to shake. W-was I going to die? I couldn’t die here. This wasn’t even my fault. I couldn’t die because of somepony else’s mistake!
After I emptied my first magazine, I immediately switched in the other. The pack was getting closer and closer, and none of what I was doing was helping. My mind was racing. My options were few. At this rate, I would have to attempt a teleport. Could I even manage a teleport? I pulled the trigger rapidly. Damn it, I wasn’t being meticulous. I only had five bullets left. No no no no. My breathing got shallow as I fell deeper and deeper into panic.
Four shots. Empty magazine. I’d miscounted! How? I was screwed! My rifle? No. Didn’t shoot fast enough. I haphazardly attempted casting the teleportation spell, only to have it fizzle midway.
I reached for my shotgun. My shotgun? No, no ammo! Think, think, think, think, think, think, think!
What would anypony else do in my situation? Probably pray, interjected the cynical part of my brain. I didn’t have time for this!
Cynical or not, it did have a point, didn’t it? I was about to die. Nothing I could do would save me. Thinking about the stars would at least provide me happiness in the last few seconds of my life. Would this count as a religious prayer? I doubted it, but it did bring me peace in my last few moments.
But then, I noticed my shaking die down and my thoughts calm down. I still had a few seconds before the ghouls would pounce, and I could still do something. I wouldn’t let this be my end.
I turned around, enveloped the pony who’d gotten us into this mess in my aura, then meticulously performed the setup for teleportation. Luckily for me, they were essentially engraved in my memory. Before it could cast, I suddenly realised that it might cancel if there wasn’t anything below us. I couldn’t risk that. But how could I fix it? I still didn’t know how to teleport in a precise direction. Besides, the spell was already created, and I just needed to release it. I wouldn’t have the time to redo all of that from scratch.
Right before the discharge, I poured my all into the channel, pushing the energy somewhere else: towards the staircase. If this didn’t work, I was screwed. But if I didn’t try, I was screwed anyway. To my pleasant surprise, the spell didn’t fizzle. Instead, it snapped back like a rubber band, sending shockwaves of pulsing agony through my horn and into my head. I saw a ghoul pounce, squeezed my eyes shut, and felt the spell activate. When I opened them again, my mind was foggy with the sharp pangs throbbing in my skull, but I noticed I was now behind Candy, a few metres in front of the stairs.
She turned around and looked at me in disbelief. She shook her head and faced the pack of ghouls, the latter seemingly unphased by my disappearance. They just looked at Candy and started running towards her. She essentially turned into a wall for the ghouls to overcome, and I ran to the stairs for high ground.
From this new perspective, I noticed how small the crowd now seemed. I’d culled a good portion of them when I was backed into that corner. Now I could finally bring out my varmint rifle and get to work. I started methodically and precisely killing them, instead of haphazardly shooting into the mob whenever it came too close. I was still angry at Lockpick’s mistake, so slaughtering some ghouls was an excellent way to let off some steam.
Unfortunately, my frustration caused me to occasionally miss a shot. That, in turn, only angered me more. Blowing up ghouls’ heads just wasn’t as cathartic as I wanted it to be. Now, pony skulls… No! Bad brain! Murder was wrong. Well, it was okay as self-defence, or to protect somepony else, I guess. Candy had killed Silver to protect me. Why was that alright? I groaned in frustration. This morality stuff was complicated. Anger was difficult to manage when I couldn’t just shoot or hurt its source. Stars did part of me want to, but somehow, another side was opposed to the idea.
Of course, I knew attacking our clients was a bad idea, but there was something more to this. As much as my ire felt like it was driving me to violence, I ultimately didn’t want to hurt her. It was also likely why I’d saved her. This emotion was similar to when I’d accidentally shot Candy.
Not even two minutes after my last second escape, the ground floor was clear of ghouls once again. Ironically, I hadn’t missed a single shot while lost in thought. I also hadn’t paid much attention to the ghouls, and was now getting frustrated that I hadn’t had enough fun.
A few red bars had popped up on my EFS, but given that I couldn’t see any of them, I suspected they were simply on other storeys and had been roused by the gunfire.
After the last ghoul fell, Candy ran over to me, hugging me and incoherently babbling about how she’d almost lost me, her tears dripping onto my back and shoulder. When she eventually let go, I turned around to look at Banter and Petal, who were both staring at me. I hadn’t paid them any mind until now. They’d been here since the teleportation, and Lockpick had run in between them, now desperately clinging to Petal.
The latter seemed slightly less bored than usual, while Banter appeared genuinely impressed. At least some good came from the situation. “Damn,” he muttered, “I’m starting to believe you might have taken on those raiders alone, with that skill with the rifle.” To be fair, I hadn’t been very good at aiming back at the train station, I’d just gotten lucky. Now I hadn’t pulled off any particularly impressive feat—sniping ghouls from less than twenty metres away was not difficult in the slightest—but if it impressed him, all the better.
The next hour was spent hunting down individual ghouls with Candy, while Banter and his friends stayed in the reception. We were now sure that a vast majority of the ferals had been taken care of. It made sense, really. The first crowd of ghouls was in the reception area and in the waiting room. A lot of ponies had died of radiation poisoning there, so it made sense that a lot of them ghoulified as well.
The rest of them were in the various rooms in the emergency wing, staying here until they had a reason to move. They probably hadn’t heard the gunshot from Candy’s weapon, given how deep in the building they were. Or maybe they just hadn’t been able to open the main entrance. In either case, stars, that was a lot of ghouls.
My mood only marginally improved; I was still in a terribly irritated state. However, I no longer felt those violent urges.
Eventually, we met up in the reception area, near the statue of the Ministry of Peace mare. We decided to explore the underground part of the hospital next. At a glance, it seemed like the only way down was through the use of the elevator, which—of course—was out of commission.
While everypony else looked for another way down, I was told to stay with Lockpick here—just in case there were still some ghouls around. I was far from thrilled at the idea of staying in the presence of the filly who’d almost gotten me killed.
As a way to pass the time, I decided to take a look at the elevator shaft. Maybe I could do something, maybe I couldn’t. I unscrewed the control panel and peeked inside.
After less than ten minutes, I figured out how it worked, what was wrong with it, and even how to repair it. I just needed something that could act as a wire. One had broken off and had probably fallen to the very bottom of the elevator shaft. It was such a simple fix that part of me wanted to believe that it would be sufficient to get the machine working again.
I walked over to a lamp that had fallen to the ground, and, pouring all my strength into my magic, ripped out the cable. My headache did not appreciate that; I felt like a red-hot metal bar had been stabbed through my skull.
A few minutes later, I’d replaced the missing part, and hopefully repaired the elevator. I doubted it, but dared dream.
As a test, I pressed the button, and to my amazement, I heard the sound of movement coming from inside the cage. After a few seconds, the doors opened, and a skeleton that had been resting against the door fell out. It would have hit me if I hadn’t jumped back. It ever so slightly startled me, but I didn’t make a noise. I certainly didn’t shriek. A certain other pony would have, had she been closer to it.
I took a look inside, and my happiness faltered as I realised that the button leading down was missing; in its place was a simple key hole. Ponyfeathers. Would it be possible to shape my magic like a key and unlock it like that? Well, I’d probably need to see the key for that. Or was there a way to figure out the key shape from the lock? Not that I knew of, so that avenue of thought seemed pointless for now.
I tried looking into the internals, to see if I could maybe circumvent the security measure, but the elevator itself, unlike the panel on the outside, was tightly locked, with no way to access the internal wiring. Of course, the one way to access maintenance… seemed to be another key. Amazing. I let out a groan of frustration. “Ugh. Who puts a lock on a maintenance hatch? What’s the point?” I understood the point very well, but given my mental state, I really needed to let off some steam.
I noticed that Lockpick had perked up at the mention of a lock, and she slowly walked over. “D-do you need my help?” she asked in that annoyingly meek voice. Despite her shiness, she sounded like she genuinely wanted to help and had an oddly optimistic tone.
That was the straw that broke the pony’s back, and I snapped, careful to keep my voice level. “Haven’t you already helped enough?” I turned to face her, enjoying the apprehension on her face. “You stupid inconsiderate spoiled brat,” I hissed as quietly as I could, ignoring the white bars on my EFS. Maybe she could help for real, but I was too angry to care.
I didn’t care if somepony overheard this. “All you had to do was shut the stars-damned door. But what did you do? You shrieked like a small child and attracted every ghoul’s attention. Your idiocy almost got us both killed.” She was on the verge of tears. Good. A trick I’d learned from my mother was to stay quiet when expressing anger. It made you much scarier—especially if you were prone to voice cracks. “Not only are you useless in a fight, you’re also—”
My berating was interrupted by Candy saying, “Iron, calm down.” I was about to snap at her as well, but as I turned to look at her, her serene smile soothed my fury. I groaned, but stopped talking. Lockpick’s gentle sobs quieted down as I moved towards the receptionist’s desk. I felt a proud satisfaction at my achievement. Yes, I was proud.
I sat down at the receptionist’s desk and crossed my forehooves. I pulled up my rifle and started polishing it, if only to have something to do while waiting. However, much to my dismay, my head hurt whenever I used magic for anything other than the most basic telekinesis. The teleportation had clearly taken a toll on my horn. I groaned. I was now also craving Mint-als. Today was not my day.
For some reason, the feeling of accomplishment had faded, and my mood was now even worse than before. I pulled out one of the novels. I needed to get my mind off of things. At first, I managed to concentrate on reading, but after just a few short pages, my mind started drifting, and I had to make an active effort to keep my attention on the text. However, no matter how much I tried to focus, my thoughts would always end up on the sad look on Lockpick’s face, as well as Candy’s disappointed expression.
I sighed and noticed that Candy was speaking with Lockpick. “It’s okay, I know she didn’t mean any of that.” But I did! I turned around to see she was pressed against Lockpick, a leg draped over her in a hug. That should be me instead of her! Why did that feel so bad? It felt like… betrayal? No, not quite. “I’ll try to get her to apologise later.” What was there to apologise for‽ If anything, she should apologise to me for almost getting me killed!
I tried very hard to get back into my book. No luck. I wasn’t just angry anymore. I was… sad? And maybe guilty—no. I was not feeling guilty.
Why was my mind under the impression that I’d done something terrible? No, I wasn’t feeling guilty. I was simply afraid of repercussions for having spoken my mind. It was as simple as that. That had to be it. Why would I feel guilty over making some stupid foal cry? She’d almost gotten me killed, so how could I possibly be in the wrong here? Brain, you aren’t making any sense. Leave me alone. She deserves to feel terrible. Not feeling guilty.
I turned away from the pair once again and decided I’d occupy myself until I was needed again. I levitated out one of my pre-war novels and started to read, only to realise that I was having an awful lot of trouble staying focused. My mind would keep wandering to different things that had happened today. Why was I so upset? It wasn’t the first time I’d almost died. Was it because I’d willingly risked my life for somepony else? No, that couldn’t be it. I hadn’t even meant to do that.
My attempt at reading was interrupted by a sudden shout. “Got it!” cried out Lockpick. She wasn’t very loud, but in the empty lobby, the cheer reverberated.
I soon found out she’d apparently picked the lock to access the clinic’s basement, and I ended up reluctantly following them into the elevator, along with Candy.
The other two joined us as well, and we spent the rest of the day scavenging the underground floor. We mostly found medical supplies, though, as expected, very little Rad-Away or Rad-X, as the ponies here had likely used up most of their stock on the day the megaspells fell. The only remaining doses were those that had been overlooked somehow: in the back of a cupboard, or behind some furniture.
As I explored on my own, I eventually found a terminal with a skeleton sitting in front of it, surrounded by empty vials and a syringe. A text document was still open—Stars, those things were resilient. I started reading.
“World-is-fucked log, part 2” What an imaginative and original choice of words.
“Fuck. I went upstairs to check on things. Part of me still hoped the world wasn’t fucked, but fuck was I wrong. Shit’s even worse than I could’ve expected. Just… death. Fucking death. Nothing except a sea of corpses. Even the ponies who weren’t outside when the spell hit have died hours ago. Fuck me, my eyes must have deceived me, as some of the corpses seemed to move.”
“Now that all hope’s lost, I’ll just take the peaceful route out. I’m just gonna have to take enough of the stuff to skip the unpleasant side effects of an overdose and go straight to unconsciousness.”
I backed into the parent directory and found the document that was presumably part one of this log—given it had an earlier date and was the only other element in the folder.
“Fuck, we’re all gonna die. Well, the ponies upstairs probably all died already anyway. I figure there’s much less radiation down here.”
“Screw my oath, I don’t wanna die of radiation poisoning. It’s not like I could help anyway. We’re out of meds. What could I even do, assure ponies they’re gonna die a painful death? Fuck that. I’ll take the cowardly approach. I’ll find a way to off myself before it gets too bad. Thankfully, I should have more time to do so down here.”
I turned off the terminal and rummaged through the desk it stood on. Inside, I found a tin of Mint-als. I could take it and sell it. Or maybe, keep it in the case of an emergency. What if I needed the sug—the high to do something I couldn’t do normally? What if we—
No. If I took this box, I would likely end up hiding it from Candy and eventually taking one in secret. I wasn’t some kind of idiot, and I wouldn’t fall for this. I threw the box behind a medical cupboard. Hopefully that would be enough to dissuade myself from taking it with me.
Searching through the other drawer, I found an odd device. It… looked like it was made to interface with my PipBuck. Though it was much larger than the device itself. If it was made for PipBucks, then it likely was designed for the older models, like Candy’s. However, I had a sneaking suspicion it was forwards compatible with mine as well. I placed it into my saddlebags, seeing it labeled as a StealthBuck. Given that I didn’t find any other interesting objects in the room, I decided to regroup with the others.
Banter’s group had retreated to sleep in their tent next to their cart—the latter being much too small for more than one pony to sleep in. They mostly kept it for merchandise and things they’d scavenged. I was to stay up for the first half of the night, while Candy would take on the later hours, up until morning. I didn’t like not getting enough sleep, but it was our duty to keep everypony safe, and this region was supposedly particularly dangerous.
We were sitting on the back of our own wagon when Candy spoke up, “You know, you really shouldn’t hate Lockpick for what happened today.”
I sighed and took a deep breath. “I… I don’t hate her,” I admitted, much to my own surprise. “It’s just… I got so angry. When she opened that door, she just froze there and screamed, instead of closing it.”
She wrapped me in a hug. “I understand.”
I shook my head as I leaned into her. “This isn’t even the worst part. When she was jumped by that ghoul, I knew the best course of action was to just run away and find a safer spot to shoot from. I knew that if I tried saving her, I’d just end up attracting possibly a lot more ghouls. I knew saving her was the wrong choice, and that it would lead to us both dying. And yet, my body acted despite me. It’s almost like I wanted to save her,” I admitted. I felt incredibly stupid. I blamed myself as much as I did her, in the end.
“Oh Iron, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a pony, it’s in our nature to want to save each other.” She squeezed me tight. “If anything, I’m extremely proud of you; you made the right choice.” I felt a few tears roll down my cheek and land on her armour.
We sat there in silence for a few long, comfortable moments before she spoke up again, “You still need to apologise to her, though.”
“I know…”
“Though there’s one more thing that I don’t understand, why didn’t you teleport sooner?”
I explained the situation to her, and she hugged me even tighter, before eventually going to sleep.
We were headed for the western side of Detrot, to a town named Scrapyard. We weren’t on the fastest route, because that would require passing through the territory controlled by Frozen Graveyard, and the ghouls there had become very hostile towards normal ponies over the past year.
I was sitting on our wagon’s roof, binoculars floating in front of me. As usual, nothing ahead, nothing behind. Ghost red bars were still floating on my EFS, but I knew the forest’s animals wouldn’t attack us; I was more worried about things that didn’t stay hidden in the woods. Things like ghouls.
Or hostile ponies, though the latter had unfortunately not appeared. ‘Unfortunately’? Calm down, brain, we don’t want to encounter any of those. I knew it would weigh heavily on Candy to have to kill another pony, and we wanted to avoid that. Besides, it would be dangerous—but fun! Part of my mind interjected. Why was I so damn bloodthirsty? Something had to be wrong with me.
I groaned. I needed a distraction. Reading on the job didn’t sound like a great idea and neither did magic training. I had to stay alert, and splitting my focus would not help. Both of those required too much of my attention. I looked behind me at the three ponies we were guarding. Petal was pulling their chariot, while Banter and Lockpick quietly walked alongside her. It couldn’t hurt to chat them up, could it?
Especially since I still needed to apologise to Lockpick for berating her.
I started walking towards the ladder leading down, but decided to practice this spell whenever I had the opportunity—climbing off a moving wagon wasn’t the easiest of tasks, either. I breathed in and channeled the spell, forcibly redirecting the flow of energy at the last moment. It felt terribly wrong—partly because the spell itself snapped back violently, but also because I knew this was an incredibly silly way of doing it. It was like rereading parts of a book to find where you’d left off, instead of simply using a bookmark.
Still, this trick got me where I meant to be, and the only way I could figure out how to do it more efficiently was through training. One downside was that it took an incredible amount of effort, and as a result I would avoid doing it more than twice a day, out of fear of burning out. The other downside was that the sheer amount of force needed to cast it this way left my horn sore and my head aching.
Once more, I experienced the feeling of a magical rubber band snapping back and painfully hitting my horn, and I materialised a good two metres away from the group. Any closer and they would have gotten startled. I stopped for a few moments to rub my temples. “Uh, hey,” I said, slightly awkwardly. My goal was to eventually lead the conversation to a point where I could just casually apologise. “So how did you three end up travelling together? I assume you’re not siblings.” They didn’t look anything alike, after all, though that didn’t completely exclude the possibility.
Unsurprisingly, it was Banter who answered my question first. “My parents were travelling merchants; did some scavenging as well, but never to a big extent. Their life came to an abrupt end when we got attacked by bandits. They didn’t wanna kill a foal, so they just took everything and left me to myself. Eventually, I met Petal, Blue, and then Lockpick, and we were like a family.”
“Blue?” I wondered out-loud. Darn it, at this rate I wouldn’t get to apologise.
“He… was an earth pony colt. Didn’t even have a cutie mark yet. Really curious about everything, but the raiders got him.” His voice sounded calm and collected, but the look on his face betrayed his sadness.
My mind scoured the memories of the gore in Foal Mountain’s train station, and I could swear I remembered a small blue corpse. Was I remembering correctly or was I just imagining things? Though I didn’t even know for sure if he was blue. “I’m… sorry to hear that,” I replied, hoping to sound as tactful as I could.
“It’s a tragedy like many in the wastes.” This time, a timbre of melancholy reached his voice, despite his best efforts. He cleared his throat. “Petal, you should tell your story.”
“Dad owned an unusually sunny plot of land. Cherry tree grew there. Raiders happened. Is that good enough?” As unsatisfactory as this reply was, I couldn’t help but feel a tad of respect for her. I was usually the quiet one, after all.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I was starting to sound like a broken record. I had a hard time feeling much empathy for her, given her tone, but it did sound like something horrible.
Banter leaned towards me and whispered, “You’ll have to pardon her, she was hit the hardest by the loss of Blue. Hasn’t been very talkative since.” That did make sense. Then, he told Lockpick, “Do you wanna tell her about your past?” The blue filly just stayed quiet. I understood; why would she want to talk to the pony who’d made her cry two days ago. “I see. Maybe you should tell us a bit about yourself, Iron. All we know is that you’re from a stable.”
“Why do you think I have an interesting story? I’m a stable filly, shouldn’t that normally make me boring?” I wasn’t dodging the question, but I did want to buy some time to think. Besides, I was curious.
“You are way too mature for your age. It’s a sign you’ve gone through shit that made you grow up faster than you should have. Usually an indicator of trauma.” Wait, really? I’d never heard of that. Then again, I hadn’t read any psychology books, and my novels had never approached such subjects either. My mother was likely to blame, come to think of it. Wouldn’t want me to realise the situation I was in was bad, now would she? She’d played me like a fiddle. Made me into what she needed.
I didn’t like talking about it, but it only made sense to reply to his question. Besides, why would I ask something I wouldn’t want to answer myself? “I… was beaten and raped by my father. Then things happened, and he ended up telling me to leave the stable with him. As naïve as I was back then, I thought I had no choice but to do as he said. I only realised he didn’t have power over me when I was holding a gun and shot him. Also happens to be how I got my cutie mark.” I didn’t want to mention my mother, since my relationship with her had been much more complicated, and I didn’t want them to believe I was any more of a nutcase than they already thought.
Everypony was staring at me in shock. Even Petal had dropped her usual stoic and annoyed façade for a concerned expression. I understood that my childhood was far from usual, but I hadn’t expected such a reaction. Right. My tone. I’d stayed monotone during that entire story, and they were probably worried because of that. Saying something messed up with a flat voice wasn’t exactly a very natural thing to do.
Surprisingly, it was Petal who broke the silence. “Shit, I’m sorry. If I’d known, I woulda been kinder to you.” What? No.
“I wouldn’t want you to treat me differently based on this. Treat me based on who I am, please.” I didn’t need her pity. I mean, if I needed anything from her, I could absolutely use this as a way to get on a pony’s soft side. Maybe I could try this with a merchant. Well… maybe I could get her to convince Banter to pay us more. Somehow, that felt wrong, so I pushed the idea aside.
“Yes, but I thought you were a spoiled stable brat who’d never known hardship in life. I based my behaviour towards you on that.” I didn’t mind, really. She hadn’t acted worse than my mother on most days.
After that, the conversation died down, with no one having anything to say, and I didn’t muster the courage to awkwardly apologise to Lockpick. I returned to Candy with the intent of just watching the road and maybe chatting her up if a topic happened to come up. I needed a new plan to say sorry. I couldn’t have imagined it would be this hard to bring myself to do this.
Before I could ask her for advice, I was surprised by Lockpick who’d walked up to us and asked to speak with me, privately. We distanced ourselves from the group, moving further ahead. I kept my eyes on our path, on the lookout for ghouls.
Now that we were alone, and apologising was no longer as awkward, I finally realised the reason I was so afraid of it. It wasn’t awkward, I just had to swallow my pride, and that was much easier said than done. I had no excuses now, though. Then why couldn’t I bring myself to just say sorry?
She interrupted my thinking. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for my fuck-up yesterday. I lost my nerve and almost got us killed.” Wait, why was she the one apologising? I know I’d thought she needed to apologise, but that was in my angry state. Now that I was calm, I realised it was irrational to be angry at—why was I thinking this? I ought to be saying it instead!
I looked her in the eyes. “Why are you apologising? I’m the one at fault here. It was completely irrational for me to be as angry as I was, considering it was an involuntary reaction. You were in just as much danger as me. I know very well what it’s like to be frozen in fear, unable to do anything, and yet I got mad at you. For that, I’m sorry, Lockpick.” Textbook apology, I mentally patted myself on the back.
While my own anger had been understandable, bringing up that fact would have deflected the blame and detracted from my apology. It’s what I would have done if I wasn’t trying to be genuine about this. It turned out that knowing how to fauxpologise—in other words, how to apologise like a politician—helped you genuinely admit guilt. Who would have thought.
“Apology accepted, though I still think your reaction wasn’t completely unfounded either.”
A few minutes went by in silence. Neither of us really knew where to continue with the conversation. We’d made peace, but we still weren’t friends. We barely knew each other. I knew she liked locks and…? Come to think of it, I didn’t have too many interests either. I liked guns and reading, though lately I hadn’t had time to do much of the latter.
“So, is there anything you like doing?” I asked, hoping the question wasn’t as silly as it felt.
She thought about it for a few seconds. “I like listening to music, if that counts.”
“Oh, then how come you’re not listening to the radio?” I’d seen one amongst their possessions in their cart.
“The stuff Airwaves plays isn’t much to my taste, truth be told. I prefer what DJ Pon3 plays on his station, though for some reason his broadcast isn’t available in Detrot. I really like Sweetie Belle’s songs.”
“Oh, we had some of her music in the stable. Wasn’t my favourite, but I could appreciate it nonetheless.”
“I just love the way she sounds. I wish I could sing like that.” She beamed.
“Do you practice?”
“What do you mean?” asked Lockpick
“Do you practice singing? You’ll never get good if you don’t practice.” Maybe I wasn’t in a good spot to give this advice, considering that I’d given up on music after a few weeks. Then again, unlike her, I didn't have any sort of interest in music past attempting to get my cutie mark.
“Well… no, I don’t. I don’t really have the time.”
“What about all this time you spend walking? I’ve known you for less than a week, and I’ve seen you looked bored the entire time we were en route.”
“I can’t. I’m too embarrassed to sing in front of Petal or Banter.” Splitting from the group alone wasn’t an option, either. I wanted to offer her to split from the group with me. I knew I wasn’t gaining anything through this, but somehow, I wanted to help this filly. I didn’t understand my feelings. It was the same thing as back in the hospital. It wasn’t the logical choice, but it was the one I wanted to make. Why were my feelings pushing me to try and be kind to her? I barely knew her!
It wouldn’t benefit me, though would it hurt me? At worst it would cost me a bit of time, and I was bored anyway. I could always retract my offer later if it became inconvenient for me. But at the same time, she was embarrassed to sing in front of her long-time friends, surely she wouldn’t dare do it in front of a nigh-stranger.
A few moments of silence dragged on.
“You know, we could always move away from the group. I can keep you safe, and you can practice in peace.”
“I’d still be embarrassed! And I don’t have recordings or anything to base my singing off of. I don’t know the songs by heart, so I would have to sing along.”
“I could record them when they come on the radio and play them back for you.”
“But I’d still be embarrassed!” she repeated, and fell into silence again.
“I understand,” I replied, giving her a smile that I hoped was as reassuring as Candy’s.
Half a minute later, she said, blushing, “Alright, if you can get a good recording and you promise not to make fun of me.” I couldn’t promise not to mentally mock her, but I could vow not to vocalise it.
“Alright, I promise.”
A few days later, we were getting ready to leave Scrapyard, packing our purchases. The town was built, well, in a scrapyard. The buildings here were all made out of pre-megaspell vehicles; broken skywagons, decommissioned train carts, or regular caravans. A notable exception was the giant welded roof over the area that acted as a marketplace.
Banter had managed to sell and trade off some of the supplies we’d scavenged from the hospital. True to his word, he split the profits with us, and we shared the rest of the loot as well. Now that we finally had some savings, we bought Candy a helmet.
A proper set of barding for somepony my size would have needed to be custom-tailored, and we just didn't have that kind of budget. And I'd grow out of it regardless.
We were tempted to get ourselves better firearms as well, but I didn’t have the need for a larger calibre rifle. Did I want one? Oh yes. Very much so. However, my saddlebags, my shotgun, and Patricide—the name I’d given to my 10mm pistol—were already heavy enough that adding another weapon to my collection would be impractical, especially one that needed such expensive ammunition. It broke my heart, but it was the rational choice.
However, I was pleasantly surprised by the discovery that my rifle was apparently a rather common model, and that this place carried many additions for it. I opted for an extended magazine as well as a suppressor. I could have bought a scope as well, but the disadvantages outweighed the benefits. At the ranges for which a scope would have been beneficial, the .22LR rounds were starting to show their weakness. On top of that, the added weight was a big detractor for me. Coupled with the price of the one long-range scope the vendor had—a measly seven-power at that—I had virtually no reason to get one. Still wanted one though.
Naturally, I also bought larger clips to reload my rifle, though I would likely always keep my five-round magazine loaded just in case.
Patricide also got an extended magazine, though I didn’t bother with a suppressor; it would have added almost thirty percent in length to the pistol.
We ended up stocking up on ammunition. .22LR rounds were light, small, and cheap, so I always tried to keep around fifty on me. Candy carried another hundred as a reserve. We also bought many 20ga shells and slugs. Candy’s shotgun was her primary weapon, and thus it was reasonable to stock up on those as well.
After the nigh-calamity at the hospital, we also decided to get me some proper crowd control shells. Explosive shells, to be exact. For safety reasons, I kept them unloaded unless they were actually needed, but they would likely help tremendously, should I find myself cornered again—provided I load the shells a priori. Fun—but wrong!—thoughts of using those on a pony’s head crossed my mind more than once.
Banter’s group and us decided to split up for the time being; they didn’t have a reason to keep us around as guards, though we could have joined them in scavenging. Given that we’d grown to like them, we’d almost accepted the offer. However, they planned to search through the north-western industrial zone, while I really wanted to visit Arcane Spark’s home in the residential area.
We would try to meet up again here in Scrapyard, two days from now, and decide what to do from there.
Next, we would pay somepony to keep an eye on our wagon while we explored the city. Apparently it was a common enough demand that one of the ponies living here offered this service. In the past twenty years, scavengers had started often coming to the region to attempt to get rich, but pulling a cart around the city’s rubble was far from convenient—we were inclined to agree.
Of course, we’d thought long and hard if trusting those ponies was worth it. Banter had deposited his cart here already, so he obviously did have confidence they wouldn’t rob him. However, Candy and I barely trusted him, so faith by proxy was out of the question.
What ended up convincing us was the fact they had no reason to steal from us, given their fairly steep daily price. If we found they stole anything, we simply wouldn’t pay them. At least in theory. I groaned internally. It was really hard to trust anypony after what Silver had done to us. My gut feeling was telling me I could trust the ponies here, but I knew better than trust a gut feeling. I just hoped we weren’t making a mistake.
The pony responsible had apparently momentarily gone away, leaving a sign that announced her intent to return within five minutes.
While we were waiting, I noticed a zebra I’d spotted earlier approach us. I hadn’t known how to react to her, so I’d simply opted to ignore her. Stars, why is she approaching us? Is she going to curse us? Am I being racist? I knew the pre-stable textbooks had heavy bias against zebras, and the few texts that had been written inside Stable 4 all called out the bias, but didn’t seem to know what exactly the bias was.
The mare was staring at us intently with her wide open, bloodshot eyes, slowly approaching. I tried looking away, pretending she didn’t exist. Hopefully she’d leave us alone. When she spoke up in her exotic accent, however, those hopes were promptly crushed.
“Greetings, young mares, fresh out of fool’s paradise, I hope you do not mind some advice. I see your light mostly undimmed, for as long as you follow your own wind. However, should the tempest you oppose, then you shall find a death most morose.” Was that a curse? What did that mean? How did she know about the stable? No, that much was pretty obvious, we’d already established. But still, what was she talking about?
“Shoo! Don’tcha bother mah customers, ya loony! Scram!” yelled a mare. The zebra immediately turned around, attempting to bolt. Her clumsy movements tripped her up and she fell on her rump, before scrambling and galloping away. Well, okay then… The owner turned to us. “Anyway, sorry ‘bout that. She’s our local druggie,” she fake-whispered. “Never try Mint-als, y’all.” I gulped. “Given yer wagon, Ah take it y’all’re here for me?”
When we first entered the city, I felt watched. I'd felt this way near the clinic as well. It was the same feeling as when somepony was behind me, except that nopony was there.
Occasionally, red bars would momentarily appear, but they were nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing consistent. My mental health was really going down the drain, wasn’t it? I would have thought it would improve after escaping the horrible hole that was Stable 4. I resorted to ignoring the feeling. Hopefully, it would go away.
After an hour of walking around Detrot’s residential area—carefully avoiding ghouls since we had no idea how likely we were to get swarmed—we finally found ourselves on the street I recognised. At the very far side, however, buildings were missing; they’d likely been the primary target of the zebra megaspell.
It took me another twenty minutes to find the exact spot where Arcane Spark had materialised. The challenge would be to figure out which building she’d lived in. I trusted the simplest solution and decided to check the closest building.
“I still don’t know why you care this much about this dead mare,” Candy said to me as we walked towards the entrance. I’d told her about the memory orb already, but I understood her hesitance.
“Curiosity, plain and simple,” I replied. “And we might find some valuables there, so it’s not a complete waste of time.”
“I see.” I thanked the stars for this mare's kindness. My mother would have told me to act my age and ignored my request.
I noticed that the mailboxes to the right of the entrance had occupant names on them. I wondered how mail delivery services had worked in a city. Their system was probably fairly well optimised and—I cut off that thought to pay closer attention to the names printed on each box.
I scanned row after row, until I arrived at the top row, where I started losing hope. However, those fears were promptly extinguished as my eyes locked onto the text. “Arcane Spark & Zephyr Aurora”. Zephyr's name was crossed out, but still legible. Underneath it, a sticker read “No Advertising Please”.
Unfortunately, that didn’t tell me which storey or flat she'd been in. Given the length of the teleport I’d ingrained in my brain, it likely wasn’t ground, first, or even second floor.
As we started climbing the stairs, we found that thankfully, there were only four apartments per floor—each of them fairly sizable, but not gigantic.
The first few floors’ entrance doors had been broken open, so I was starting to lose hope we’d actually find anything valuable in Arcane’s home. However, as we reached higher floors, some doors remained closed, while others were open but not broken. Had whoever been here before us simply decided this place wasn’t worth looting?
Luckily for us, doorbells were also labelled with the names of the ponies who’d lived there. Unluckily for us, when we finally found the entrance to Arcane’s flat, it was locked. Candy however surprised me by levitating out a bobby pin and a screwdriver. She inserted the former into the lock and applied torque with the latter.
I watched as she moved the pin back and forth. I could tell by her hesitant movements that she barely had an idea of what she was doing. “You can pick locks?” I asked. She clearly wasn’t very good at it, but she seemed to know the basics.
“Eh, sorta?” she replied without looking away from the lock. “I mostly just know the theory, and when I saw LP doing it last week, she made it look easy.” As if on cue, the bobby pin broke, and she let out a groan.
“Can I try? If you tell me how.”
She gave me her tools. “The idea is to ‘trick’ the lock into being open by pressing down the pins exactly like a key would.”
That… was incredibly vague. “Any other tips?”
“Apply torque and brush on the pins, they’ll get stuck in place.” Not a very good tip either.
I had a hard time grasping what she was telling me. Nevertheless, I wedged my screwdriver into the lock, forcing it to turn very slightly. I moved the bobby pin back and forth, like she’d implied with the word ‘brush’, and found that one of the lock’s pins clicked down. Encouraged, I kept going… to no avail.
After that first one, none of them wanted to move. Eventually, after a few minutes of heated struggle with the lock, I loosened my grip on the screwdriver, causing the pin to spring back up. I noticed I was gritting my teeth and consciously unclenched my jaws.
Again I brushed across the inside of the lock, and the same pin got stuck in its down position. I struggled a bit more, then, somehow, another pin got stuck. Once more I was filled with motivation.
After a few minutes, said motivation all but evaporated, leaving behind frustration. Why was this not working? Maybe I needed to try again. I let go of the lock and dropped the screwdriver. It was getting in the way of my bobby pin, and my magic was good enough to apply torque on its own. Come to think of it, even the bobby pin was superfluous.
I attempted to pick the lock with only my telekinesis, but quickly noticed that this required more concentration than I had the ability for right now. Maybe with a Mint-al… but those were off the table forever.
I picked up the bobby pin again and went to work. This time, I got stuck on the first pin again. Anger was starting to pour into my mind. Maybe if I pushed hard enough…
Or maybe…
No, no, no, no! This wasn’t working
I groaned. This wasn’t worth my time. I walked back from the door, loaded an explosive shell into my shotgun, and blasted the door open with a shot at the lock. Wooden shrapnel flew my way, painfully hitting my face. Candy, further down the hallway, screamed in surprise. “Fuck! At least warn me!” she exclaimed. Hadn’t she seen me load the shell?
“Sorry, sorry. I was just done with this door, and it’s not like there’s many ghouls in this building,” I said, moving towards the frame. Come to think of it, the lack of skeletons or ghouls in this place was disturbing. Could it be that they all tried running away? That would have just killed them faster… not that they would have had any chances of surviving the radiation this close to the original location.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. I could hear Candy Cane walking behind me. The inside was the familiar room with grey concrete walls, except the paint had peeled off in most places, leaving behind… more grey, just of a different shade. The windows had long shattered, and the carpets and textiles covering furniture had rotted away.
As a light gust blew in through the destroyed window, I felt a droplet of blood flow down my cheek. Raising my hoof to touch my face, I noticed a large splinter embedded in it. How had I not noticed the pain until now? It hurt. I turned to Candy, and she was as shocked as me when she saw it.
She rushed over to me, telling me in her soothing voice, “Sit down, I’ll take care of it.” I did as I was told. “Okay, I’m gonna need to pull it out. It’s pretty deep in there, you’re lucky it didn’t hit your eye. I’m gonna yank it out on three.” I closed my left eye. I didn’t want to see it come out. “One… Two…” She pulled it out on two. My vision filled with tears, and I led my thoughts to stars for comfort.
Candy pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and a piece of cloth, wiping the wound with the soaked tissue. The liquid stung, but not as badly as the original pull. With a pair of tweezers, she pulled out a few more pieces of wood that had split off from the big splinter. It hurt, but I stayed strong.
After another disinfection, she poured a bit of healing potion onto the wound, holding it closed with her hoof. The pain slowly diminished, until it became no more than a slight sore. Candy rubbed the closed wound, asking, “Does this hurt?” I shook my head. “Perfect. Now, I would lecture you about blowing up a wooden door, but you’ve probably already learned the lesson, haven’t you?” I had, and I was grateful she wasn’t berating me about it. I felt stupid enough already, and didn't need to get yelled at. I nodded reluctantly. How had it not crossed my mind that this would happen? Was a little frustration really enough to cloud my judgement?
We started searching the apartment. My gaze immediately wandered to the bookshelf in the back of the room, and I trotted over to it. The contents were very similar to the one in her hut on Foal Mountain. There were many normal novels, some textbooks, and many comic book magazines. “Hey, Candy?” I called.
“Yeah?” she answered from the kitchen.
“Would you mind carrying a few books? I can take a few, too.”
“Sure!”
That opened up my possibilities quite a bit. Still, I wouldn’t want to overload either of us with books. Out of the scholarly books, many interested me at a first glance. While the many mathematical textbooks didn’t look like anything on my level, my curiosity still wanted me to read them. I put them aside—it wouldn’t hurt taking them with us if there wasn’t anything else of value. Mathematics were fascinating, after all. I just didn’t know much past early calculus. Thankfully, I’d already finished my maths curriculum by the time I’d left the stable—just like with magic, concepts were easy for me to grasp. Unlike magic, however, it was actually interesting.
As I levitated the last two books over, I noticed the side of the pages was covered with mold. I opened the book and was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of mildew. I found that the inside had completely been eaten away by the fungus. Almost dropping it out of sheer disgust, I closed it and set it on the floor far away from myself. Gross.
A horrifying thought crossed my mind—what if every book here was unreadable. I decided to skim through the maths books. To my utter dismay, most were indecipherable. Out of four, only one seemed to be relatively legible still. And of course, its contents were so advanced that I doubted I had any of the prerequisite knowledge.
I inspected each individual book in her library, only finding four—five if I counted the advanced discrete mathematics textbook—that were still mostly readable. Groaning in frustration, I lamented the loss of knowledge, but was happy that some of them had survived. In particular, a single book on memory magic and its applications piqued my interest. It wasn’t the one I would have picked, but I did like the topic; it could prove itself useful.
I ignored the comic book magazines; given that most looked ready to fall apart, I doubted they were in any better shape than the books. Instead, I looked at the novels she owned. Not too many titles seemed particularly interesting, but I did end up picking up five of them that were in a still-readable state of decay. Hopefully they’d be more interesting than their covers.
I deposited the seven books I’d decided on on the coffee table. Just that made me want to feel the bitter liquid on my tongue again. Wait. I thought I didn’t like coffee? But the thought back to it made me realise that maybe I did. Was this what an acquired taste was all about? Could it be the same with whiskey? No. No way in Tartarus could that actually taste good to anypony.
Next, I headed towards the bedroom while Candy continued to rummage around in the kitchen. The walls in here were covered in paintings and posters. The paintings were cracked, but all represented nature in some way or another. The posters, on the other hoof, were all faded or rotten. A lone terminal stood on her desk, in the corner of the room.
A variety of old plastic bottles of lotions stood on her bedside table, as well as a framed portrait of a mare that I immediately recognised: Zephyr Aurora. A black ribbon was draped over the frame.
Next to it, I spotted another one of those memory talismans. The impatient part of my brain screamed at me to take a look at it, but the rest of my mind knew it would have been superbly idiotic to lock myself in a memory while Candy scavenged the flat. No, I’d look at it tonight. Just like the orb from the chalet, it wore a label, “Bbest night ever pt1”. I wondered where part two was.
Next, I opened the bedside table’s drawer, to find… part two, as well as medicine. I recognised some as headache medicine, but most of the pills were foreign to me. I would tell Candy to look through them later. I pocketed the “Bbest night ever pt2” orb.
I searched through her desk, only to find a diary—completely illegible. I groaned. I couldn’t help but notice how many empty plastic bottles were placed all around the room. Had she not understood the concept of garbage cans? In any case, her room mostly seemed to be paperwork and trash. How sad.
Finally, I decided to take a look at the terminal. To my surprise, it turned on. However, the first message that came up was simply “Please enter password to decrypt storage.”
I tried “Zephyr Aurora”, but it was declined. “4 attempts remaining.” Ponyfeathers. Knowing old technology, it would wipe the entire drive once those four attempts were spent. I connected my PipBuck to the terminal, and tried to initiate the transfer. However, the text “Handshake rejected,” flashed on my screen. I groaned, and went back to help out Candy.
Eventually, Candy and I had found everything worth our time—she’d managed to scrounge up a lot of preserved food—and left the small apartment. I told her about the two memory talismans that I’d watch later on.
“You still wanna check out that old office building?” she asked me. We’d talked about the possibility of scavenging in a place with actual loot. Individual apartments and houses were usually fairly safe, except for the odd ghoul out. Public buildings, on the other hoof, were a damn gold mine.
“Of course.”
As we approached the Stable-Tec building, I noticed some red bars inside. The building itself was badly damaged, like everything around it. Not even a hundred metres further, however, things were in much worse shape; we were nearby the crater. Occasionally, my PipBuck would give a quiet click. Any closer and it would likely be ticking the entire time.
Through the broken windows, I could see a few pony-shaped robots inside, walking around. Huh, I’d never fought a robot before. I briefly wondered about how fun they’d be to destroy.
Before we entered, I started taking shots at the robots—they were clearly going to attack us on sight, so we were better off attacking them first. SATS informed that they were apparently called ‘protectaponies’. Sparks flew around with each shot that landed. As fun as that was to watch, it just wasn’t very exhilarating.
After the three robots were dealt with, we stepped into the reception. Most furniture in the large lobby had either been broken or had decayed over time, with the notable exception of the receptionist’s desk. The room looked nothing like in the memory. The continuing presence of red bars worried me, but I figured they would all be as easy to dispose of as the robots we’d already scrapped.
Oh, maybe I could still find some usable parts on the robots. I doubted I would find anything useful for fixing guns, but it wasn’t like my knowledge of mechanical systems couldn’t be extrapolated to machines in general.
I managed to extract a few servo motors, as well as many gemspark batteries. They weren’t as heavy as spark batteries, but they also held a small fraction of the magical power. Meanwhile, Candy looked through the rest of the room. When she stepped in front of a door, it suddenly burst open, revealing a large robot. Unlike the previous three, it wasn’t pony-like at all.
It was bipedal, but instead of legs it had tracks. Because of that, its movements were much smoother than the protectaponies. Its left arm was a small calibre barrel. The right one was a much larger barrel. I doubted it was made to chamber bullets, but that only left the much scarier option of explosives. I hoped to whatever god there was that it wasn’t explosives.
Candy dove behind cover—a pile of rubble. I took a shot at the machine, but was sorely disappointed as my bullet simply plinked off its metal plating. Stars curse my luck. I hid behind the receptionist’s desk.
By now, the metallic construct was well inside the room. Suddenly, Candy’s bar moved, and the robot started shooting. Occasionally, I heard her shotgun roar. I hoped she’d loaded slugs. As she passed by my location, bullets whizzed past me. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder, and blood squirted out. Fuck! I bit my lip in an attempt to prevent my inner swear from being voiced.
I blinked the tears out of my eyes. As she left my immediate vicinity, I loaded my own shotgun with a few explosive shells. If there was something likely to break through that plating, it was those. I ended up fully loading the weapon before standing up.
It was still shooting at Candy while she was running a circle around it, blasting it with a slug every time she could. How was she moving faster than it could turn? This mare never ceased to impress me.
I took aim and hit it square in the side of its torso. It stopped following Candy and instead started turning towards me. Oh ponyfeathers. I ran, ignoring the searing agony in my shoulder. I didn’t know how long I could keep it up, but if I stayed in place, I would end up a sieve. I still wasn’t a fast runner, but fear for my life acted like a wonderful stimulant.
While I ran, I took the opportunity to shoot its torso with my gun floating besides me. Being a unicorn sure had its perks. Shots rang out against its armour from the other side.
My heart was pounding and my lungs were ablaze. I was about to slow down. I was about to die. No, I still had my teleportation trump card up my sleeve. I didn’t like using it, since I still didn’t trust it to do what I needed it to do. Given that my vision was starting to blur, I clearly didn’t have a choice. I mentally ran through the maze, then forcefully redirected the energy. There had to be a better way!
I rematerialised behind a pillar, panting heavily, horn throbbing painfully. At first, I didn’t dare peek out from behind the pillar, but as I heard its machine gun rev up again, I knew it was going after Candy once more. I took a look and noticed Candy was zig-zagging straight towards my position. Good, if we both found cover, we might be able to find a way out. Maybe I could teleport again? That would help us out. Things would work out! I still needed a bit more time to catch my breath, though.
I blinked in surprise as suddenly its right arm fired. In the few fractions of a second the projectile flew through the air, I was able to notice it was not a bullet. It impacted the ground behind Candy, several metres in front of me, and the explosion thundered throughout the atrium. Dazed for a short instant, I didn’t see when the mare had been thrown forward by the explosion, only realising what happened when she crashed against the wall next to me with a cracking sound that instilled fear into my mind.
A leg was not supposed to bend like that.
She was not getting up.
I needed to act now, or we would both die here.
A risky plan formed in my mind, and I started channeling power through my horn once again, bracing for the whiplash.
I released the spell and accidentally closed my left eye as a headache pierced my entire skull. I reappeared behind the robot, closer than I’d meant to be, raised my left hoof in front of my face, and immediately entered SATS.
Wait, I haven’t even pressed the button yet. The same link that allowed me to interact with the user interface could most likely be used to launch the spell to begin with. I wish I’d have known about this sooner. I chastised myself for those irrelevant thoughts. Slowed or no, I had no time to waste!
I queued three shots at the robot—as much as the spell allowed me with the pump action shotgun. Then took a few seconds to brace myself for the impact. I was very close to the sentry bot—the name SATS had given it—and I was about to fire at it at point blank range. This would not be pleasant, but I knew very well I wouldn’t survive moving away first.
I let go of the spell and felt my aura pull the trigger. My world became heat, pain, noise, and more pain. Sharp twangs of agony echoed throughout my body as shrapnel pierced my skin. I could feel the metal embed itself into my chest, left foreleg, and right shoulder. My leg and lower face throbbed with the pain of a burn, as my magic, guided by the spell, pumped the shotgun. I was not ready for another shot, and yet it came.
More heat and pain, but this time, all I could hear was ringing.
The third shell left my gun, and the world resumed. Because the universe really wanted to punish me for my stupidity, the last two explosive shells exploded, still inside the shotgun. If it did anything to me, I couldn’t feel it anymore.
My EFS reassured me that the threat had been defeated. In fact, the entire interface was free of red bars, now. How? The pain of the burn in my left leg was also gone, probably overshadowed by the shrapnel.
I walked three steps towards Candy, then lost consciousness.
I awoke in a dark room to Candy bandaging my leg. I noticed the familiar lack of feeling that came with her anaesthetic spell and was oh so grateful for it. At least four bottles of healing potion and a single Med-X vial lay strewn about in the closet.
Her right front leg was resting in a cloth attached to her neck. “Is your leg broken?” I attempted to ask, but couldn’t hear myself over the ringing in my ears. I felt my vocal cords vibrate, but no sound came.
Still, she turned to me. Her mouth was moving but no sound was coming out, at least none that could overpower the ringing. Oh. Of course I was still deafened by the blast.
“I can’t hear you, Candy. I think my ears are messed up.” I tried speaking a bit louder and still could barely hear myself. Her lips puckered as if she was trying to shush me. An idea came to me.
I levitated my PipBuck hoof to have the device face me, then opened the text editor on a new file. “Type on this,” I said, attempting to stay quiet.
She furrowed her eyebrows, mouthed “Later”, and finished bandaging my leg. When she was done, she turned her attention to my PipBuck and started to type using the tiny keyboard. Unlike a terminal keyboard, this one only consisted of a five-by-four grid, and one had to press each key multiple times to cycle through the multiple letters assigned to each button. I wondered how earth ponies could press the tiny keys. Once again, glad to be a unicorn.
While my mind wandered around irrelevant topics, Candy finished typing her message. “Removed most shrapnel. Not all. Healed your face burns. We need to wait until the numbing spell wears off. Also, dont be loud.” I’d figured the last part.
“What about your leg?” I asked, at the lowest volume I could.
“Broken,” she clicked.
“Isn’t there anything you can do? This… looks painful.”
She started typing again. I could tell she was getting the hang of this, slowly but surely. “Wud need to set it. Cant do that with my hooves, magic too weak.”
“Do you think I could do it with my magic?” I offered, then added, “With your guidance, of course.”
Keyboard clicking. “Wud be hard if u cant hear me.”
“I don’t need to hear you, I can just help you add power. You can make the motions, pull and push where it’s needed, and I’ll provide the strength.”
“U think u can follow my movements precisely?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t like it was particularly difficult. I’d been asked several times to help funnel power into a spell that I didn’t fully or even partially understand, so that was magic I was very familiar with.
“Fine then. I trust you.”
She undid the loop and wrapped her aura around her leg, not letting it droop. I focused on the currents of magic flowing into the telekinesis, strengthening the spell. It was easy to push along a river, as long as it didn’t make any sharp turns. Candy’s eyes widened, and her expression changed to… admiration?
She bit her lip, anticipating pain, and swiftly set the bone. I didn’t exactly understand what was going on, but I could grasp the general idea. Tearing up, she finished the healing potion next to her, then proceeded to bandage the leg. She broke a broom with a swift buck, then wrapped the bandage tightly around her leg, using the pieces of wood to immobilise her limb.
In the end, her leg was back in the cloth loop hanging from her neck. However, it was no longer painfully contorted.
When the anaesthetic spell gradually wore off, I started regretting every single action that had led me to here and now. My leg’s burns pulsated painfully underneath the magical bandages, and the shrapnel that Candy hadn’t removed grated agonisingly against my muscles and bones, trapped beneath the flesh that had regrown through the potion’s influence.
As I tried standing up, I felt extremely disoriented. The world spun, and I fell back down on my rump. I was fairly certain I let out a yelp at the strain. I officially hated robots. Not fun to kill, very deadly, and hard to destroy.
Candy motioned to my PipBuck. I lifted it and let her type. “We shud get going. You need medx?” I nodded at her, and she dug through her saddlebags, then inserted the needle into my right foreleg. A thought hit me. Wasn’t Med-X also a drug? Didn’t I risk getting addicted if I kept having to use it? Hopefully I would remember to ask Candy about it when I got my hearing back.
As the pain melted away to a more manageable level, I slowly stood up, trying to get used to the unexpected motion sickness. Then, as she put the empty syringe back into her saddlebags, I spotted something shocking. She had a tin of Mint-als.
I wanted to ask her about it, but I feared that opening my mouth would lead me to lose my lunch. How could she do this? Why would she do this? Was she planning to sell it? If so, that would explain why she hid it from me. Still, it… hurt that she would keep a secret from me. Maybe I shouldn’t keep secrets from her either?
That didn’t matter right now, however. We needed to get to a safe place to let ourselves rest, as this building was still crawling with red bars; some of those would likely be exactly like the sentry bot that had put us in this predicament. I suggested Arcane’s apartment complex, since we knew it was ghoul-free.
On the way there, I lost my lunch, and then spent a sizable portion of my concentration to stop myself from dry heaving. Again, I felt observed, but I ignored the hallucination. We needed to get to safety as soon as possible, and I couldn’t waste any time thinking about my sanity.
Footnote:
New Perk: Teleportation I — You’ve learned to move your body and everything you’re carrying instantaneously from one spot to another. You can also teleport small objects away from you, but anything larger than a soda bottle must travel alongside you. Your range is limited to your INT score, in metres. Additionally, due to your inefficient way of executing it, this spell can only be cast up to your END score times a day.
New “Perk”: Hearing loss — Your inner ear was permanently damaged. As a result, you effectively lose 5 points off your PER score in scenarios involving listening. Your overall PER score is unaffected, due to your other senses sharpening to compensate. Your sense of balance is also affected; you chronically experience extreme disorientation.
Chapter 8 — Heroes
Heroes
Arcane was sitting at a small dinner table in a crowded and dimly lit restaurant. The waiter had just brought them wine and had left to talk to another pair of ponies. A band of three ponies played classical music; Horseshoepin, if I remembered correctly.
The first time I’d seen this place, I’d assumed it was an atrium. Then, I remembered pre-war ponies had establishments where they would dine. Well, on special occasions only, since it was fairly expensive to do so on a regular basis.
A single candelabra with three lit candles stood in the middle of their table. Zephyr spoke up, “You know, you didn’t have to take me to such a fancy place. Really, a chill evening with you woulda been fine.”
“I know, I know,” my host replied. “It’s just that this place has good food. Besides, it wouldn’t have sat right with me if I took you out for hayburgers.”
“You kidding? Hayburgers are fucking delicious!”
Arcane fought hard to hold back a laugh, instead managing to just slightly giggle. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind, then.”
“To be honest, as nice as this place is, it’s a bit too high class for my taste, anyway. I’m a simple mare with simple desires,” admitted Zephyr.
“I’m mostly the same, though I guess I do care about first impressions, so I wouldn’t ask someone out on a date somewhere that might be below them.” They both chuckled, but then fell into a silence that quickly grew awkward.
“You mind if I bring up a work-related subject?” asked Zephyr after maybe a minute. “It’s not that I wanna talk about it, it’s just that we might as well go for a topic we both have stuff to say about.”
“I mean, if you’re fine with it, I’m fine with it. I never really got the whole don’t-talk-about-work-outside-of-work thing, anyway. It’s not like the shit we can say becomes any less interesting just because we ain’t at work,” the blue unicorn answered.
“Well, you got a point there. I never really understood it either, truth be told. Anyway, did you hear of the plans for Stable 4?”
“You mean that it’s gonna be on Foal Mountain? Honestly, I don’t really get why they would make it so far removed from everything,” my host replied. She lifted her glass of wine to her lips. The first time I’d experienced this memory, I’d been disgusted by the taste. Now, I’d grown used to it, and even partly enjoyed it. Candy told me no when I wanted to find a bottle in the wasteland. She was probably right to do so; even if we did find one, selling it would be a much better idea than consuming it.
“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that Mr. Pegas kinda just wanted a private bunker, with all of Stable-Tec’s technology. The higher-ups didn’t have any of that, though.” She leaned in, and my host did the same. “I overheard Sweetie Belle and the other two talking about this,” she whispered. “Apparently they reached some kind of weird compromise with him. He gets to choose how the stable is run, but Stable-Tec gets to choose the ponies who get a spot in it.”
“I mean, he would technically be entitled to a private stable, given that he’s their biggest investor and all. Oh, and he donated a fucking mountain,” Arcane responded.
“Well, yeah, but I guess even he would feel bad about it, I guess. They probably gave him the whole ‘we save ponies’ spiel and all. Since the stable is so far away from everything, it will open for habitation whenever it’s finished. It’s an interesting approach, and I wonder if they’ll do it for any other stable, rather than go with emergency evacuations,” explained the white pegasus.
She leaned back to take a sip of wine, then continued, “I’m a bit concerned about what he wants to do with the stable. Apparently he wants it to be some kind of odd social hierarchy, where the richer ponies get the positions of power. Kinda messed up, if you ask me. The execs only accepted it as an experiment, as far as I know,” Zephyr stated.
“Yeah, if this stable would end up being used, it would be Appleloosa levels of incest, probably even worse. It’s already a huge problem with stables in general, but if you add incentive for inbreeding, then you’re bound to end up with a really bad place. I would give them… two generations before they allow cousins to get married.” I was still impressed by the accuracy of that prediction.
Fifty years after the megaspells fell, the overmare at the time had decided that only immediate relatives counted as family in the eyes of the law. It just didn’t make sense to keep pre-war laws and morals, when eventually everypony in the stable would be kin. Though it was also clear that the rich and wealthy wanted a way to stay in power.
Still, from my perspective, it was hard to believe there was a time when you couldn’t marry your cousin. It was just that common in Stable 4. Then again, that only proved Arcane’s point, did it not?
“Yeah, I hope it never gets used either, but I’m starting to think it might be inevitable,” she whispered the last part even more quietly than before. I knew the reason. Well, I’d speculated one up. During the war, the Ministry of Morale was responsible for keeping the public’s mood and general attitude positive. I’d never learned of their methods, but given the context, I suspected they weren’t very pleasant.
“I’m pretty convinced none of the stables will ever see any use. Call me crazy, but I think we’re approaching the peak of the conflict. Doesn’t seem like the end is that far off. Like, how bad could it get?”
Zephyr looked at her in shock. “You really believe that?”
“Mhm!” responded Arcane. “I mean, given how much the conflict has been escalating recently, it’s only a matter of time before one of the parties tries to reach an armistice. Or just ends up winning.”
“Wait, then why did you join Stable-Tec? Just because it’s a good, well-paying job?”
My host leaned back into her chair and raised her tone to normal speaking levels again. “Basically, yeah. Was the best job in arcano-tech that wasn’t directly related to… things I didn’t wanna be a part of.” I suspected she meant the war effort.
“That’s what your cutie mark is about, right?”
“Yup! Well, to be exact, it’s about fine manipulation of magic.” I regretted not being able to see her mark. “It’s related to this special quirk I have. I’m much better at sensing magic than the average unicorn. Usually, you can only really feel it as it leaves your horn. Meanwhile, I can perceive it all around me.” Prior to viewing this orb, I’d thought this was a perfectly normal thing that we could all do. Turns out I was fairly special, somehow.
Zephyr was staring at Arcane, softly smiling while the unicorn continued her tangent. “It usually goes unnoticed, since only ponies with a high talent for magic tend to realise it. Although… the unicorns with this gift do tend to be better than average. Well anyway, I’m magically talented and happen to have this ability. So here I am.” She took a small break to breathe and have a sip of wine. “It’s extremely useful for understanding what happens inside a talisman.”
The next half dozen minutes were taken up by my host talking about talismans, spell matrices, and how to “debug” them. Zephyr seemed to understand even less from her speech than I did, but she kept smiling happily at the unicorn. Eventually, her speech was interrupted by a waitress, carrying their food.
As my host started eating, her date told her, “You know, you’re extremely cute when you nerd out like that.” In response, Arcane swallowed her food wrong and started coughing. Eventually, she hacked up the culprit noodle. I could feel her cheeks growing hot while Zephyr simply giggled gleefully. “You should see your face right now.” She chuckled. Arcane’s cheeks just grew hotter.
The next half hour was spent eating and chatting about unimportant matters. I always lost track of their conversation, given how boring it was. I didn’t care for either of their families or friends that much. Or even at all. Personal drama was simply outside my area of interest. Back in the stable it would have been my duty to keep tabs on things like that. Thankfully, I’d abandoned that obligation a few months ago.
However, what I enjoyed with this orb was the atmosphere. Even during the war, this place felt so much more alive than the wasteland or even Four. It was a memento of a time long gone. The music playing in the background, the idle chatter, the cleanliness, the size of the room. All of that came together to create such a delightful experience and change of pace from the wasteland. It was my escape.
Not to mention, the food was delicious. It was a seemingly simple dish. Tomato sauce and pasta. And yet it tasted so much better than anything I’d ever eaten before. The food back in the stable was so much blander, and I didn’t even dare compare what we could scrounge up in the wasteland to this. There simply wasn’t a comparison.
Yes, I had old world blues whenever I visited this orb, but it was very much understandable, given how much better everything here was.
I eventually exited the memory talisman to find that Candy had woken up and left the wagon. I enjoyed watching this memory of Arcane while I had to wait for whatever reason. Even though it did feel like I was intruding on a private memory, I knew that this sentiment was irrational, as I wasn’t hurting her or anypony else. Besides, what if it was? Do I really need to care?
The “pt2” orb, however? I felt extremely indiscreet while viewing it. The memory felt so much more private, so much more intimate. Experiencing it, I learned that, through the use of… tools, two mares could have sexual intercourse. However, I didn’t exactly understand how fertilisation was possible in that case, given what Candy had told me about reproduction.
However, I’d also learned that it wasn’t always painful. In fact, it had been the opposite of that. Maybe that was the explanation for their actions? Was it possible that recreational sex had been an activity that pre-war ponies engaged in? More disturbing still, could it be that even afterwards, ponies had continued to do so? I couldn’t exclude the possibility, and that unsettled me even more. My thoughts drifted to my father, and I almost retched.
Why did I have to keep thinking about this stupid orb‽ I wished I could just forget what happened in it. Forget about it entirely. Maybe once I figured out some of the spells from my most recent magic book.
In hindsight, there had been some references to recreational sex in the pre-war novels I’d read. Oddly enough, there hadn’t been any such references in the books I’d read back in the stable. Though maybe there was confirmation bias at play. Oh well, it wasn't like I could just go back and check. Wait, why am I still thinking about this. Go away, bad thoughts! I shook my head, attempting to force my mind into different avenues.
I decided to get up, but stumbled a little as I lost my balance. Not fun. I found myself staring into the mirror in the back of our caravan. Originally, I’d wanted to get rid of the object, because it kept reminding me of my scars, but I’d realised that recalling my screw-ups would probably help me avoid them.
The lower part of my face was slightly warped as part of the burn scar, though my fur had grown back over it. Overall, it wasn’t as prominent as the chemical burn from the toad abomination, where my fur was still patchy at best. A few smaller scars littered my face, but those were the least of my worries. No, what saddened me the most was my tattered left ear. It reminded me that my hearing would never go back to what it had once been. My eyesight had luckily recovered, despite the bright flashes, and I could even swear it was better than ever.
The last aspect of my physical appearance that had radically changed since the encounter with the sentry bot was my hair style. After a good chunk of my mane had burned away, Candy had suggested we equalise its length, so I’d opted for a buzz cut. It had slightly grown back, since, and I now sported a short mohawk—was that the correct word? I’d never been very good with names like that. At first, I’d hated it but as I got used to it, I was almost starting to like it. And it was much more convenient. No more would the wind brush a loose strand of hair into my eyes or mouth.
In just a few months, I’d gone from looking like a stable dweller to resembling the average raider; not even the average wastelander. I sighed. It wouldn’t help to dwell on my scars.
I turned around and opened the door, letting the stale air from the cart flow out and the daft smell of mildew from the garage in. Despite the odour, the freshness felt heavenly. We’d anticipated lower temperatures during the night and cranked the heater up. Unfortunately, we’d over-estimated the cold and ended up with an uncomfortably warm interior. The good news was that it would likely be warmer today. The bad news was that I’d gotten at least a few days closer to my next due bath.
I shuddered. Bathing in a cold region was not fun. Even with a barrel of hot water, drying off was far from pleasant in most cases. And barrels of hot water were hard to come by. The best way was usually to place it above a fire, but that required being outdoors to avoid suffocation due to the smoke. Electric heaters were suboptimal, as power was expensive. Warming the inside of a wagon to habitable levels was much easier than heating several hundreds of litres of water to comfortable levels.
Ugh, why was I daydreaming about bathing?
I picked up a novel and started reading until Candy would come back from her daily jog. Then, we would travel to the train station to see if anypony needed our services. It was an average day at best, but with Candy by my side, I was content dealing with the drabness of the wasteland.
Hopefully I would not get any of the trance-like feeling that had made itself common over the past few months. I was starting to suspect a reason for it, but I wasn’t sure. It almost felt like a different pony was taking over my body for a few hours at a time, but this idea seemed absurd. It was the only explanation I’d come up with, though.
"If it isn't our two wonderful mercenaries," greeted us Gust as we approached his desk.
"Please don't refer to us as that. We're caravan guards," replied my companion. Truth be told, we were closer to guides. We rarely got to kill anything other than a couple feral ghouls, but traders appreciated having somepony familiar with the region travel with them. We charged low enough that to a vast majority of caravans, it was well worth investing in our services.
"I know, I know. I just enjoy calling you that," admitted the griffin. He was in an unusually good mood today, wasn't he? It wasn’t common to see him crack jokes, dry as they might be. I wondered what happened.
"Anyway," continued Candy, "since there aren't many caravans around, we were meaning to ask you if you needed us for anything."
"Hmm… I don't think I have anything specific for you two. There hasn't been much happening lately—well, not much you would help with, anyway—and the important pathways are mostly ghoul-free. The latter is mostly thanks to you and your frequent travels." He stopped to think for a moment, then resumed, "There is something Gale would need the extra firepower for, but I don't think you'd be interested. I won't bother you two with the details, don’t worry."
By his tone, it probably involved attacking other ponies, and Candy wouldn't like that. Stars, even I disliked the idea. If I could avoid killing for long enough, maybe my mind would stop giving me those bloodthirsty fantasies. Just like my cravings for Mint-als had slowly dwindled, my desire for violence seemed to cool down as well. Maybe it was just like an addiction.
“How do you know we won’t be interested?” Learn to read implications, Candy.
“It’s about dealing with a group of bandits on the blue line. They’ve been messing with ponies in the region, though it was pretty mild until now. Well, if you can call armed robberies mild. Still, nothing murderous.” He shook his head in dismay. “But a few days ago they took some ponies hostage and demanded payment. All I could do was refuse, since agreeing to their terms would only empower them.”
Offended, Candy gasped. “You’d let those ponies die‽”
“Don’t have a choice. Like I said, if I accept to pay them, they’ll be able to buy better equipment and get allies. So far, they’re a weak group of slightly armed idiots. If we accept their terms, we’d be letting them become actual foes,” Gust stated, his tone much colder than previously. Bringing this up had clearly soured his mood.
“Oh…” muttered Candy. I knew what she was thinking. She realised how difficult of a position he was in. He couldn’t help out whoever had been captured. If he paid the bounty, he would only make the situation worse. If he attacked, the hostages would die if the assault was executed poorly. Even if they didn’t, Candy definitely didn’t like the idea of slaughtering ponies; bandits or no. “So, what do you plan to do?”
“Waiting to get more firepower. If I had more mercs under me, I would have already sent Gale to exterminate those pests, before they even got the chance to kidnap some innocent wastelanders. Trust me, I’m not happy about this.”
“Didn’t you say they’re weaklings? Why do you need reinforcements?” Candy asked. We didn’t really have a large fighting force, so Gust likely wanted to minimise casualties on our end. Wait, ‘we’? Candy and I aren’t involved in this.
“They are, but I can’t afford to lose any mercenaries. Just you two would considerably improve our odds, though I know I wouldn’t be able to convince you.” He stayed quiet for a few seconds, before adding, “You know what? It’s worth a shot. Please help us. You would increase our numbers by fifty percent. You’d be heroes for the ponies you’d save and for us.” So, he only had four mercenaries?
“Wait, only four? Last time I checked, there were six griffins living in New Detrot,” I interjected.
“I sent Blackbeak to Fillydelphia a few days ago to deliver a message, and you know I can’t fight,” explained the griffin.
“Because of your wing and leg? You can still hold a rifle, can’t you?” I asked.
“Yes, but I’m a sitting duck if I join battle. I can’t dodge shots, and I can’t move to a better vantage point, I’m just stuck.”
“This doesn’t sound too different from Iron’s situation. So you want others to risk their lives, but aren’t willing to risk yours?” challenged Candy, voice growing disdainful. She wasn’t fully correct, because I did have my teleportation. In theory.
“No, that’s not it, it’s just that—” He went quiet. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll join the attack, though only if you two join as well. Otherwise I’ll just wait for reinforcements. I just really don’t want to lose any of my Talons.”
“You think we would make that much of a difference?” inquired Candy.
“Oh yes. Just the extra firepower should make the attack a lot safer for us. You’re fairly competent, and having you would help us out a lot. Not to mention, the EFS spell you two have access to would make this even safer.”
“Hmm… Would you mind giving us a moment?” asked Candy, and Gust nodded in response. Candy leaned towards me and whispered, “I’m not very convinced. I like the idea of putting you in danger even less than hurting another pony. If these bandits weren’t such terrible individuals, I would flat out refuse, but given that we can actually help out good ponies by getting rid of the raiders, the decision becomes much tougher.”
“I don’t like the idea.” Not only did I not want to endanger Candy or myself, I also didn’t like the prospect of killing more ponies. Though mostly because I believed it would fix my addiction to violent murder. Did I really just think that? Besides, murder was wrong, was it not? “If we were short on caps, I’d consider it. As it is, it’s just not worth risking our lives over.” If the region ended up suffering from that group, we could always find a new home. As much as I enjoyed knowing my surroundings, I knew I could make any place my home as long as Candy was with me.
My left ear started ringing very loudly. Ah, I was wondering when you’d act up again. Wonderful.
She turned to face Gust. “I’m sorry, but we just aren’t heroes, or whatever you’re trying to paint us as. And since we don’t need the money right now, we will have to decline the offer.” I could tell she didn’t like saying this. She was a hero. Or rather, she had the potential to be one.
I didn’t, and I was preventing her from becoming one. And yet, I couldn’t imagine pushing her or myself towards heroism. We would be much happier if we lived a normal wastelander life, rather than trying to fix this mess that somepony else had created.
No, we weren’t heroes, and I wouldn’t let us become them. “In the end, we don’t really have a reason to help,” I added.
I started moving towards the notice board, Candy in tow, when the griffin spoke up once more, “Is that so? Then I think you might change your mind if you learn who the abducted ponies are.” His voice had a much darker tone to it than previously. A horrible chill ran down my spine. It couldn’t be. No. Please don’t. I shuddered.
“You can’t mean…?” mumbled my companion, disbelief and denial painted on her face.
Gust sighed deeply. “Yes. Banter and his friends. I’m… sorry.” My mind raced for reasons why he would have kept that from us. Had he wanted to keep us calm? Why?
Candy decided to voice my questions, “Why didn’t you tell us that sooner‽” She couldn’t keep her anger out of her voice, and stars, was she furious.
“Didn’t want to admit I was considering letting your friends die. Plain and simple, I did not want to tell two of the most promising ponies in the entire region that I would be complicit in their friends’ deaths.” He tried to remain stoic, but his tone subtly betrayed his emotions.
Candy and I looked at each other, and through eye contact, we could tell we were on the same page.
“You disgust me,” spat Candy. “We’re in, but you owe us ten days’ work worth of caps, understood?” He could only nod.
The radio tower was on top of a large hill. I’d seen it over the treetops while travelling along the tracks west of it. We were waiting in a small pre-war village at its foot for the scout to return.
The towns along the blue line were even smaller than the other villages scattered throughout the region. A single row of buildings on each side separated the tracks and road from the dense conifer forest. In the dark of the night, this area struck me as incredibly unsettling. On top of that, the feeling of being watched was stronger tonight than usual.
I still didn’t understand why it bothered me so much. I had no interest in saving these ponies prior to finding out who they were, and was perfectly content letting them get murdered by bandits. The only explanation I could think of was that I’d grown to care about them in a similar way to how I cherished Candy, though I barely knew them. Had I really gotten attached to them so quickly?
Well, it may be unfair to put it like that. While we’d only known them for two and a half months, we had spent many evenings around a campfire, talking about anything and everything. Since my injury, Lockpick and I hadn’t gotten around to her practice, and I was starting to worry she would think I hadn’t meant my offer. This settled it, after we’ll have saved them, I would actively put time aside to help Lockpick learn to sing. Maybe I could even learn that instrument spell that I’d seen ponies use in Mom’s Kitchen—New Detrot’s only bar—to accompany her. It didn’t seem too complex, after all. Certainly nothing somepony of my talent would struggle with. While I wouldn’t enjoy playing, helping my friend was definitely a good goal.
I shook my thoughts back to the here and now. This raised the question—how would we save Banter and his group? The issue was that they’d likely get killed once we started the frontal assault. I wanted to ask Gale to adapt our plan accordingly. My idea was to try and get them to safety by infiltrating the facility with my StealthBuck.
Apparently, those devices cast a camouflage spell on the user, so potent that one would appear invisible. If I could get them to safety first, that would be ideal. If not, I could always try to take out a few ponies from within their own lines, which could lead to a massive advantage for us. I would need a sharp knife to kill quietly.
Our scout finally returned, explaining that she hadn’t seen any hostiles along the road, only near the bunker at the bottom of the radio tower. The fact that it only had one entrance complicated my original idea, which I brought up as we were discussing a plan. Candy protested, and wanted to be the one to infiltrate their base with the StealthBuck, but a quick mention of my height and weight compared to hers convinced her otherwise.
A plan was devised. Our group would advance up the hill, our explosives expert checking for traps. Candy and I were to walk in the middle, and report if anything showed up on our EFSs. Of course, I would be ignoring the ghost bars that would appear whenever we were near a forest, but if any bar persisted, I would immediately tell everybody.
I was almost surprised that we didn’t encounter any bars hidden in the woods. I hadn’t expected any. Then again, it made perfect sense—why would they hide inside the forest full of deadly animals? Especially given that there were only half a dozen raiders at most—according to Gust. As we advanced, our lead spotted mines and disarmed them.
It was odd, though. All this talk of deadly animals, and we’d never gotten attacked by them. Still, we had no reason to risk going in there. It was just… The theory that animals didn’t attack ponies that stayed out of the forest seemed too convenient. And yet, it appeared true. What if there just weren’t any animals, and it was all just rumours?
Our scout informed us that the crossroads ahead was close to their bunker. Sure enough, red bars started appearing as we approached, and I informed the others.
Setting our plan in motion, I took off my saddlebags and accepted Candy’s shotgun, giving her my pistol in exchange. It wasn’t an equal trade, but it was better than nothing. I’d be the one amongst all the bandits, after all, so I needed it more than her. I also borrowed Gale’s combat knife. I plugged the StealthBuck into my PipBuck.
Immediately, my hooves turned transparent, including the device on them. Even the firearm in my telekinetic grip was almost invisible. I knew it was there, and I could tell the slight deformations around it. However, anyone a metre away from me would have a hard time noticing my presence, especially in the dark.
For the first time in months, I didn’t feel like I was being watched. Even the shred of doubt I experienced during normal times was entirely gone. It was absolutely liberating. Maybe I would get to sleep properly for once if I lay down with one of those active. I told the others I was going.
As I turned the corner, I realised that a spotlight was aimed at the road, and that I would have to go around it.
I advanced, carefully observing the ground for mines. I knew what they looked like, so I knew what to expect. In the dark, I was slightly nervous I couldn’t see them, and that I could stumble upon one at any moment. As I finally spotted one, my worries were slightly quenched, as it had been very noticeable. Still, I didn’t let my guard down.
I neared the illuminated ground and noticed that my eyes got used to the bright light, meaning I barely saw anything around the edges. This excluded the possibility of going around the lit area. I knew for sure they would have mines there, and I was almost blind. Going through the forest seemed like a bad idea, as branches would likely crack under my step. On top of that, traps would be even less noticeable. I would just have to trust my StealthBuck to do its job.
I slowly trotted through the bright road. The good news was that I could clearly see the ground, and mines would be more than visible on the grey concrete. However, the guards—which I couldn’t see due to them standing in the shade—concerned me. All I could do was count on my EFS, which claimed they were currently both stationary.
Eventually, I made it through the bright hellscape. Crossing back into the darkness proved to be nerve-wracking, as I had issues seeing the ground. Carefully, I stepped back into serene blackness. Once my eyes properly adjusted to the new lighting conditions, I spotted the guards. Both were sitting on chairs in front of the bunker’s entrance, each facing a different direction. An improvised metal roof extended over them. Presumably to defend them from airborne attackers. Makes sense, given they live near griffins. Or maybe I’m giving them too much credit and they just wanted shelter from the weather.
Those two would make escaping the bunker with the hostages much harder than expected.
Moving closer, I switched to plan B. It involved finding a way to make sure Lockpick and the others survived the encounter, and taking out some bandits if I could. Well, the first part implied finding them first. It would be difficult to locate them, considering that there were white bars everywhere inside.
My left ear started ringing, because of course it did.
Luckily for me, neither of the guards noticed as I snuck in-between them, too busy watching the road. One of them did seem to react to me passing by, but as he turned his head and saw only air, he shrugged and went back to looking at the road.
The heavy concrete door leading inside the bunker was open, likely because closing it was a chore. The interior was a single dimly lit corridor, with flimsy-looking doors on either side of it. Moving towards the back revealed that there was a single white bar in each of the rooms, except for the last one, which hosted three. Bingo.
I made my way towards it and hoped my prediction was correct. As I opened the door, I was relieved to find the three ponies lying on the ground, tied up and gagged. Well, I was relieved to recognise those three ponies. Out of them, only Petal seemed to be conscious.
She looked confused as I closed the door behind me. I whispered, “It’s me. Iron. I have an invisibility spell. I’m going to cut you loose, but we’re going to have to stay quiet until the griffins attack. Okay?”
I turned off my StealthBuck—so that the two others could wake up to a familiar face—and did as I’d promised, freeing all three from their ropes. They’d been here a few days, as was obvious by the red marks on their hooves. As Banter and Lockpick woke up, I undid their gags as well.
“Iron? What are you doing here?” asked the yellow buck.
“Helping save you. In…” I checked the time on my PipBuick. “Seventeen minutes, Gale and her Talons will launch a surprise attack on this place. Amidst the chaos, it’s likely that one of the bandits will try to leverage you as hostages. This is where I’m supposed to come in. I was supposed to get you to somewhere safe, but since this bunker is smaller than we’d imagined, I think I’ll just get you across the hall and hide there.” They quietly nodded. I was glad they understood the severity of the situation.
I led them across to the other room, to find that it was a bathroom. Smell of dried urine and feces assaulted my nostrils, and I grimaced despite myself. This raised the risk that somepony would accidentally stumble upon us.
However, I thought up a plan. I told the three to hide in the shower stall. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it would prevent them from being immediately spotted. I would stay behind the door, ready to stab whoever entered the room. I didn’t know if I would be able to kill a pony with this before they made a sound, but it was better than using a firearm to start.
The next quarter hour passed extremely slowly. I didn’t dare chat with my friends, and was bored out of my mind. Given that none of the white bars seemed to move, however, allowed me to relax a little. I ended up focusing on the knife floating in front of me. I channelled a larger than usual quantity of magic into it, keeping it perfectly still. As the sink kept leaking, I realised something. In the perfect quiet, each droplet sent vibrations through my knife. It made sense, given that sound was nothing more than pressure waves travelling through the air. Still, it fascinated me that I was able to feel that. This kept me relatively occupied until the first gunshots echoed outside.
Immediately, all the white bars—save for my friends’—turned red. I heard shouts ring out throughout the bunker. “We’re under attack! It’s griffins!” yelled a pony, presumably a guard.
Another voice shouted, “Rusty! Get the filly! We might be able to negotiate out of this if we remind them we have a foal hostage!” called out a female voice. Just like Gale predicted. I heard hoofsteps in the hallway.
A moment later, Rusty called out, “Boss! They’re gone!”
“Keep looking, you retard,” came the boss’ rushed reply, and I could hear Rusty rummaging in the other room. What an idiot.
A few seconds later, the gunshots died down. Wait what? “What are you doing?” asked Rusty.
“There’s no way we’re winning this. Our best bet is to hole up and hope the griffins are content with killing most of us. If our bargaining chip is gone, all we can do is hope we can survive,” replied a female voice I hadn’t heard yet. So even they knew they couldn’t win an all-out confrontation with Gale’s Talons? Interesting.
“Uh, okay,” came Rusty’s dimwitted reply. “In that case, I’m gonna go take a leak.” Stars fuck me hard.
I needed to kill him. The question was whether to use the shotgun or the knife. If he was unarmed, I could afford to stab through his neck and hope the others wouldn’t notice. If not, I would need the quick reactions with my shotgun. I decided to focus on my firearm first. Most hostiles wouldn’t hear it through the heavy door anyway.
The door opened, and in stepped a rust-coated earth pony, gun in his muzzle. Given that he had a gun, I couldn’t risk it. Before he could react, I painted the floor with his brains. I giggled slightly. No, not now. Now was not the moment. Still, I couldn’t help but be invigorated by the sight.
The loud noise set off another bout of ringing in my ears, and Lockpick shrieked, then a pony started retching. Hoofsteps rang out. I needed to take the initiative. They knew I was here, and I wouldn’t manage to surprise anypony again like this. Worse, by staying here I was endangering the others. I stepped out from behind the door. As I emerged into the corridor, my head spun violently.
The pony that had been running towards the bathroom, a charcoal grey unicorn stopped dead in her tracks. Before I could react and pull the trigger, her horn glowed, yanking my shotgun from me. I’m going to murder you. Images of ripping her head off filled my mind, and I smiled despite the situation.
She pulled the trigger on her pistol, and a sharp pain pierced my chest. I would have screamed, but I didn’t have the time. I was going to kill her for taking my gun from me. Slipping into SATS, I queued a teleport behind her and activated the spell.
As she pulled the trigger again, I materialised behind her, picking up my dropped firearm. She tried to turn around, but it was too late. My off-center shot shredded her torso, and she screamed in pain, dropping her weapon. I chuckled and pumped my shotgun. Her magic activated in a last-ditch effort to save herself, but I finished her off with a shell to her ugly face.
I started laughing even harder, but immediately stopped when I realised that a white bar behind me had moved. Another one? I thought in delight.
I faced the pony, and the green bitch bolted into a room to my right. Oh no, you aren’t getting away. I ran after her, to find her… cowering in a corner.
“N-no! P-p-p-p-lease don’t kill me!” begged the raider, hiding her face behind her hooves. I shoved them aside telekinetically, and made her look at me. The terror on her face was absolutely delightful. “I-I swear! I w-won’t-t do b-bad things anymore,” she pleaded.
I couldn’t contain my grin anymore, and her face grew even more horrified. I almost blasted her skull, but changed my mind at the last second. I let go of her, aimed the shotgun at her torso, and pulled the trigger, giggling happily as her front hooves exploded in a shower of lead, gore, and bone. A chunk of meat bounced off the wall, landing on my face. By then, I was cackling maniacally, as she was howling in pain, which only redoubled my laughter. If murder was wrong, then why was it so fun?
Stars, had I missed this! Why had I ever decided that I shouldn’t kill? This was so much fun. Maybe I’d regret it later, but right now? I was feeling ecstatic. There was nothing better than being me right now. There was nothing stopping me anymore! A fit of coughing interrupted my guffaw, and I felt the familiar taste of blood in my mouth.
It was then I noticed the white bar approaching from behind. Another target?
I was snapped back to reality as Lockpick poked her head around the corner, levitating a pistol in her orange aura. I couldn’t shoot her. She was my friend. I felt my weapon fall out of my grasp and my vision grow dim. Seeing me, she dropped the pistol and ran over. My head hit the ground before she even made it to me.
I was walking next to Candy, behind the group of Talons and ahead of Banter and his group. My chest was sore from where I’d been shot. Luckily for me, Lockpick had saved my life by using the healing potion that I’d kept in my harness. I’d neglected telling Candy about it, to avoid worrying her needlessly, and she hadn’t commented about the bloodstain on my jumpsuit.
I still couldn’t believe I’d ignored a bullet wound this severe. Tunnel vision had gotten the better of me, and it scared me. How much closer would I keep getting to death until I stopped making stupid mistakes? I sighed, thinking back to the times I’d gotten hurt over the past three months.
Encountered raiders before knowing how to wield a weapon. My mistake was to assume I could sneak up on them without getting noticed. My curiosity was also to blame.
Next time was when I’d gotten attacked by a ghoul. There, the error had been that I hadn’t been careful enough of something I didn’t know, and also that I hadn’t trusted Candy properly. Had she been in front of me, neither of us would have gotten hurt.
After that… the toads. I shuddered. My mistake had been… what? It wasn’t so obvious. I’d already thought about it. On the surface, the answer was simply that I’d practiced magic when I shouldn’t have, but there had to be an underlying, more profound reason. I let my mind roam freely. The only deeper cause I could think of was curiosity. Maybe I did have a problem with that…
Then, the sentry bot. That one was my biggest screw-up to date. Curiosity had played a big role in that one, but it wasn’t the only reason things turned out so badly. Overconfidence and ruthlessness certainly didn’t help. Had I not decided that I absolutely needed to know what was in the old Stable-Tec building, I would have been fine. If I had been more careful when walking around, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If I hadn’t assumed I could easily take out any of the hostiles on my EFS. Or even if I’d just thought my attack through properly, instead of blindly blasting the robot with explosives. There were several ways I could have coordinated my movement with Candy. I could hav—
My train of thought was interrupted as the mare in question spoke up, “You know, I’ve been thinking… I… I’d like to keep doing this. Being a positive influence on a region. We’re already murderers. What difference would it make if we kill three or three dozen, if the latter would improve the world?”
She took a short break to breathe, during which I interrupted her, “Candy, I don’t want to play heroes.”
“No, no. I’m not exactly sure what that would entail, but it’s not my intention either. The wasteland doesn’t need well-meaning freelancers. The wasteland needs order. It’s what I realised when working with Gale. Ponies will stop doing terrible things to each other when there’s no more reason to do so. I want to join a group of mercenaries and help the world in a lasting way.”
I was fine with that. If we were compensated for our efforts, we could eventually retire with all the caps we’d made. “That’s more reasonable.” I telekinetically touched the sore spot on my chest and added, “I’d like to get some proper barding, though. At least something that would protect my vital points from shots.”
We later asked Gust if he wanted to hire us long term. As suspected, he didn’t really have any open spots. He said he could employ us two days a week at most.
When asked about what we could do instead, he gave us a contact. A griffin female by the name of Stern, who operated in the East. She worked with an earth pony stallion who was aiming to “build a new Equestria”. This was enough to convince Candy, and, by extension, myself.
Many weeks later, Candy and I were sitting on the edge of the roof of a ruined building at the outskirts of Manehattan. We’d hidden our caravan in the building’s garage, as we’d grown used to doing. We were watching over the dimly lit ruins of the city. In the distance, a single building stood over everything else—Tenpony Tower.
Despite the late hour and the slight breeze, the temperature was still bearable. Of course, my patched up Stable-Tec jumpsuit helped. I’d taken off saddlebags and barding—light pieces of kevlar that only covered the most important parts of my body—and was enjoying how liberating it felt. I didn’t understand how Candy could wear hers almost all the time.
The air smelled of dust, an odour I’d gotten used to once we left the region of Detrot, which was mostly made up of mud, dead grass and snow.
With my damaged hearing, all I could hear was the wind, though that was still more quiet than I was used to.
With how understimulated my senses were, it was no surprise that the feeling of being observed was overbearing. I tried hard to ignore it, but the sensation kept floating up to the top of my sea of thoughts.
As we were drawing closer and closer to Fillydelphia, I was having more and more doubts about this choice of career. Gust had sent a message, and we were expected. Of course, we’d be treated like the rookies we were, but that bothered neither Candy nor I.
No, what really messed with my confidence was my mental health. I sighed, taking a deep breath. “Hey, Candy?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m… having second thoughts about this whole thing. Us being actual mercenaries and all,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry, we’ll do fine. I’ve seen you shoot. We’re more than capable.” Even if that was true, that wasn’t why I was so scared.
“No, Candy. I… I’ve been keeping secrets from you. Bad secrets.”
She took her eyes from the nighttime landscape to look me in the eyes, shocked concern spread all over her face. “Have you been taking Mint-als again?” she asked.
I shook my head. I could feel tears welling up. I didn’t want to admit this. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to ask for help. I didn’t want to admit I was weak. I didn’t want to admit I was messed up. I— “Then what is it?” Her voice was now full of the same serene, caring worry that I loved so damn much. The tears started flowing.
“I’m not fine, Candy,” I declared, sniffling, still holding up sobs. “I’m a bloodthirsty murderer who’s slowly losing every shred of her sanity!” I blurted out.
Candy tilted her head to the side, and her ear flopped. Confused, she raised an eyebrow. “Say that again?”
I thought through what I had to tell her. There were three things I needed to bring up. I breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm myself enough to confess this.
There was a lot to unpack, so I started with the least bad, but also the one that was most likely to make her despise me. “I… I… I enjoy killing. I see a pony’s skull blow up in a shower of gore and blood, and I’m happy. I don’t understand why. I like watching the fear in my enemies’ eyes when they know they’re about to die. I know it’s not normal. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. I know I’m a bad pony.” Tears were streaming down my face while I cried. I whimpered pathetically, “Please don’t hate me…”
To my surprise, all she did was hug me. How was this mare so perfect? I knew she hated cruelty, so how could she accept me despite mine? “Shh, it’s okay, Iron.” She caressed my back, holding me close. “A wise mare once told me; you aren’t your thoughts. The only thing that matters are your actions. Enjoying killing is not healthy, but if you haven’t killed for the fun of it, then things should be fine.” Uh oh.
“That’s the thing… I think I have. Back when we were taking care of those raiders. One of them… I think she had a change of heart. But… in the heat of the moment… I didn’t hesitate a second before slaughtering her.” No, that was terrible wording. That made it seem like I didn’t know exactly that she wasn’t hostile. I was making it sound like I hadn’t shot her in the chest to hear her screams of agony. And yet… I didn’t dare correct myself. I was on thin ice. She still loved me. I had to keep it that way, no matter how terrible a pony I was in reality.
“She was a raider. Pony rules don’t apply to them. She accepted her fate the moment she turned towards that life.” I kept forgetting she had this cold, hateful side that she only showed when she truly believed someone was beyond saving. I shuddered. I would try hard to never give her a reason to hate me.
We stayed like this for a few more minutes, her gently brushing my back with her hooves while I worked up the courage to drop a bomb on her.
Eventually, I backed away from the hug. I’d told her what was most likely to upset her, now it was time to tell her what fucking terrified me. I would start with the most immediately distressing one. “There’s… other things I wanted to tell you. The scary part of all of this is that my bloodlust is the least of my mental problems.”
For a split second, her serene smile vanished, but she quickly corrected it. “What do you mean?” she calmly inquired.
“I always feel watched. At first, it was just occasionally. I would feel like somepony was somewhere, observing me. With time, even when I wasn’t feeling observed, I still had the sneaking impression somepony might be stalking me. Now I can’t tell the two impressions apart. It’s eating me up on the inside.” I was shaking. I was sobbing. I wanted this to stop. I wanted another StealthBuck.
“When did you first feel this way?” asked Candy, voice full to the brim with concern. At least I wasn’t the only one who was put-off by my paranoia.
“Around the time we came close to Old Detrot. I was certain somepony was following us, but my PipBuck wasn’t confirming it. I figured I was hallucinating or imagining things,” I stated, trying hard to stop my shaking and calm down even a little.
“How bad is it right now?”
“Extremely bad. It’s like somepony is standing on the roof with us. It’s what set off this entire conversation. If I didn’t know any better, I would think there’s somepony behind me.”
Suddenly, a dark chuckle rang out in the cold night air, chilling me to the bone. “So you are able to sense Us through an invisibility spell. Most impressive.”
“Who are you? Show yourself!” shouted Candy. I was paralysed with fear. How. What. I…
“Our name is of no importance to you.” Suddenly, a huge blue figure appeared out of thin air. An alicorn. Princess Luna? No, the monarch had died close to two centuries ago, and those colours did not match the nightly regent’s. However, her usage of the royal We threw me off.
The figure continued. “Come with Us, little one," she demanded.
"Why would I want to do that?" I asked defiantly, desperately trying to sound collected and unbothered.
"The Goddess accepts all who are gifted with magic as strong as yours. Our original plan was to take you in once you achieved finer control over your magic. However, your extraordinary sense rekindled Our interest in you," explained the alicorn.
That was creepy. So she had been the one watching me, and I'd just felt her presence? I wasn't crazy? No. I doubted all of this paranoia I'd experienced had been caused by just her proximity. Sometime along the way, I'd started hallucinating the feeling. I knew this because the sensation was less concrete sometimes than others, I just hadn't realised it until now. I'd been too convinced I was wrong to notice the threat.
Wait, was she a threat? The alicorn was shady, that much was certain, but she didn't seem to want to hurt me. If anything, this sounded like an offer. What would happen if I refused it, though?
"You still haven't told me why I should care," I deadpanned.
"Because you do not really have a choice, little one," she answered, aggression latent in her tone. So my original impression had been correct.
"I… see…"
I pretended to check something on my PipBuck. Then, when it faced the right way, I blinded her using the flashlight. I unharnessed my shotgun, pouring ample magic into my grip, to prevent her from ripping the firearm out of it. Alicorn or no, I wouldn't let her get away with threatening me.
Right as I was ready to fire, though, my telekinesis was utterly and violently overwhelmed, sending a wave of hurt through my horn. My weapon plummeted twenty storeys. Next, my harness was also stripped from me, following the same path as the gun.
Unarmed, I cowered before the giant mare. I was no match.
Candy ran at the alicorn in an attempt to incapacitate her. The latter effortlessly threw her aside, and the lavender pink unicorn hit the ground head-first. As expected, she got up, blood spilling down her face from her forehead. Despite her injury, she stared down the taller mare.
She stood in front of me, in an act of defiance. Her telekinesis reached for her shotgun. No, please don't. You're no match. I wanted to say it outloud, but I was frozen. I needed to go with the alicorn. "I…" I started, but it was too late. The blue glow overpowered the pink one, and the combat shotgun pointed at Candy.
"Stop!" I cried out, but my shout was drowned out by the roar of the firearm. Candy stumbled backwards, but didn't fall on me. Instead, she stood over me. Blood dripped from her wounds onto me. She leaned on her left leg.
"I won't let you have my sister!" screamed Candy.
"Please, stop," I begged pathetically, my voice weak. Neither of them heard me, or neither cared, and the alicorn shot again. Candy was pushed backwards once again, and her hind half went over the edge.
Before she fell, I caught her right front leg in my aura. She was heavy. Her armour and equipment added a lot of unnecessary weight as well. No, I couldn't lose her! I poured my soul's worth into my telekinesis, and she stopped falling. I started pulling her up, sparks flying from my horn. Pressing my eyes shut, I redoubled my efforts.
Suddenly, her weight dropped drastically. My stomach churned at the implications. Had I been holding only her PipBuck, only for it to come loose? Had she grabbed the ledge? Was she safe? I doubted it, but I wanted to believe it.
I opened my eyes, and saw that I was holding Candy Cane's detached leg in my telekinesis.
I screamed.
A flash of purple light lit up the rooftop, and I felt the familiar currents of an arriving teleportation spell. Next thing I knew, I was enveloped by the same violet aura. I tried fighting it, but it proved to be a fruitless endeavour. Opposing the currents directly was utterly impossible.
Then, the mysterious figure started channeling a teleportation spell. Again, I tried to cancel out the spell, but I was overpowered. I had to save Candy. I knew she was still alive. If I gave her a healing potion or two, her wounds wound close. We wound set her broken bones, and she would be fine. I just needed to get out of this grasp.
As the purple mare's cast came closer and closer to its end, I had a brilliant idea. When the energy started travelling, I made my last-ditch effort. I pushed hard against the flow, redirecting it towards the tower's base. Unfortunately, my opponent noticed this and pushed back. I poured my all into my horn, and it started sparking so much I was worried I would damage it. That didn't matter, though. Then, the spell popped, and everything went dark.
I couldn't see anything around me, and my EFS was devoid of all activity. I stood there for stars only knew how long, trying to grasp the situation. Tears were freely flowing down my cheeks.
I wailed.
Footnote:
New Perk: Teleportation Redirection — Your flawed way of teleporting has taught you how to forcibly redirect a teleportation spell to another location within the original range.
Author's Notes:
Author’s note: Ooops, dropped some angst.
Not gonna lie, I loved writing this chapter. Between both action scenes and Iron’s meltdown, it was simply a delight.As usual, huge thanks to my editor, EverfreePony, and my basically-co-author, SnakeEye.
(As an aside, it’ll be a while until I start publishing chapters of this fic again; I wanna get a few chapters written before I publish them, so that I can freely change details to avoid retcons. If you don’t mind retcons, feel free to shoot me a dm if you want in on the pre-reader squad)
Chapter 9 — Memories
Memories
My head was pounding, and my mouth was dry. The ground underneath my muzzle smelled of mildew. That was all I knew as I opened and rubbed my eyes, finding myself in a large messy room, lit through the outside windows. I turned onto my back and massaged my temples. Where was I? Why did my head hurt so much?
As I got up, momentarily dizzy from the fast motion, I felt a jolt of pain in my right back ankle. Lifting my head, I hit it on the staircase I’d apparently slept under, and got a bout of vertigo while my left ear rang. I groaned loudly. Stretching like a cat to relieve some of the soreness from sleeping on the carpeted concrete floor, I cursed my past self for putting me in this predicament. My back satisfyingly popped in several places, but the ache remained. My stomach grumbled.
This episodic amnesia was getting ridiculous. Not only did I not remember how I’d gotten here, I’d also seemingly not eaten in a while. When Candy came back, I would ask her to give me some of our food. Unless we were out? That would certainly explain why I hadn't eaten. Somehow, that didn’t seem like the right answer.
“Ugh…” I grunted. I really should tell her about this, shouldn’t I? When I see her again, because this can’t continue. I was scared. Not only because I kept forgetting days at a time, but I was also afraid of being a liability. She had been taking care of me ever since we’d left the stable, and I couldn’t bear making her worry for me even more. Or was I making it worse on her by keeping my condition secret? I couldn’t tell.
A shocking thought crossed my mind—what if I’d already told her? What if she was just used to me forgetting everything? In hindsight, that was very likely. Talking about it with her might just annoy her. But maybe it was necessary.
Actually… where is Candy? Normally, I'd assume she went for her usual morning jog, but something was amiss. She would have definitely carried me somewhere more appropriate to sleep. Or perhaps not. Maybe she had a reason not to? She was a grown-up, after all. Not all their decisions made sense at first glance.
The way I'd slept suggested I'd lost consciousness, or else I would have spent the night somewhere more comfortable. While I doubted the torn couch would have been very cozy, it was definitely more pleasant than the rotten carpet. Besides, there was likely a bed or mattress in another room, somewhere in the house.
While I was lost in thoughts, my stomach grumbled once again, pulling me out of my reflection. This is a problem, and I definitely need to tell her. How long has it been since I last ate? Now that I was fully waking up, I started feeling just how hungry I truly was. It wouldn’t have been exaggerated to claim this was the hungriest I’d ever been. Well, if I didn’t just forget the other times, I guess…
I took another look around the living room. All around me, many things lay strewn about; ruined books, several broken vases, a glass bottle. Tipped over, damaged furniture also littered the room; not just bookshelves and cupboards, but also half a dozen chairs. The shattered remains of a glass table lay in front of the couch. I'd seen quite a few old world living spaces that scavengers had treated poorly, but this had to take the cake in terms of destruction and chaos. It seemed like a battle had taken place here.
Whatever the reason for this chaos was, it didn't matter now. I desperately craved some water. Peeking through every doorway attached to the living room, I eventually found a bathroom. Stepping up to the sink, I stood on my hindlegs, placing my forehooves on it. In this position, my jumpsuit dug into my thighs and shoulders. Had it always been this small? Wait no, I've probably just grown. I turned the handle on the faucet and placed my muzzle into the stream and drank for a good minute. As unappetising the water looked, I couldn't care less. Even my PipBuck's ominous clicking did not prevent me from enjoying every single swig. Even the dirty aftertaste was no deterrent. Only once my thirst was quenched did I shudder at how utterly disgusting this water was. Gross!
I would have to kill some time before Candy came back. I would need to find my saddlebags if I wanted to do some reading. What time was it, anyway? I'd assumed early morning, but the light pouring in was a bit too bright for that. Turning my attention to my PipBuck, I realised that my Eyes Forward Sparkle was inactive. The clock revealed that it was early B-shift. That meant the day was more than half over already. What. I tried to reactivate my EFS with the flick of a switch, but my horn ignored my attempt. Another burn-out? How in Equestria had that happened? I switched it on using my right forehoof instead.
The interface blinked into existence, and, to my relief, I noticed I was entirely alone. However, a location marker appeared in front of me.
My thoughts returned to my predicament. Something was definitely wrong. Too much was out of the ordinary. A bad thought crossed my mind. What if I'd gotten separated from Candy? The state of this place certainly seemed to indicate she wasn't around. What if something had happened to her? No, that’s extremely unlikely, I reassured myself.
An idea popped into my head. What if the marker on my PipBuck was where I was supposed to meet up with Candy? That would certainly help explain her absence, wouldn't it? Wouldn't explain why I didn't have my saddlebags. Though maybe I had just left them in another room? Why I’d do that was beyond me, but it wouldn’t be the first of my past self’s actions that I had trouble understanding.
Before I started to search for them, I took a look at my PipBuck's map, curious about the location of that marker. Manehattan, about fifty kilometres south of here. I was surprisingly close to Fillydelphia, where Candy and I had been heading previously.
This effectively left me with two options. Either find the marker in Manehattan, or head to Fillydelphia. I'd overheard that the latter was a dangerous place that most ponies avoided. I didn't know what made it bad, but I knew I didn't want to find out without Candy. However, since Fillydelphia was so much closer to my current location, I was tempted to drop by, just to check if she was there. No, if she really was there, I wouldn't have placed a marker somewhere else. I need to trust past me, no matter how inconvenient her choices seem to be sometimes.
I decided to spend an hour looking for valuables in the house, both as a way to kill time while waiting for Candy's potential return, but also because I would need everything I could find if I wanted to survive the trip to Manehattan. After that, I would get going. I just hope this dizziness goes away soon, I thought, rubbing my ear.
I ended up finding some Fancy Buck Cakes, but my saddlebags were nowhere to be seen. I hadn't really expected to discover them, but was still disappointed by their absence. Ponyfeathers. I rummaged around the building a bit more, on the lookout for anything that could help me. I picked up an old pair of dusty and hole-ridden saddlebags, as well as two plastic bottles that I filled up with water from the old sink. Still and in a clear container, this liquid looked even less appetising than before. Regardless, gross water was better than no water. I’d replace it with clean water as soon as I got the opportunity.
I ate the entire package of snack cakes, but deemed the portion unsatisfactory. I was grateful to have found it, but still wished for more. The sweet taste had aged surprisingly well—or maybe it hadn’t; all I knew was that I liked it. On top of that, the feeling of vertigo had faded away, and those two details lifted my mood considerably.
Soon enough, an entire hour had passed, and I needed to stay true to my decision. I left the house through the front door, and found myself in the middle of a large plain of dry grass and the occasional dead tree. The road leading away from the house was paved with coloured blocks—a classic for richer neighbourhoods in pre-war Equestria. I glanced at my PipBuck’s map again and noticed the location tag “Stronghoof manor”. The realisation that somepony had owned this place made me idly note the lack of skeletons inside the manor. Maybe they’d all made it to a stable before the radioactive fallout arrived this far?
After following the path for a few minutes, it ended up joining up with another, bigger one. The marker on my EFS suggested I needed to turn left, and a quick check of my PipBuck’s map confirmed that idea. I started walking, thoughts wandering while I observed the wasteland scenery. It was ugly and dead, but there was a certain melancholic beauty to this drabness.
I slowly trotted, trying to make myself as small as possible. My EFS was crawling with red bars behind the trees, and all I could do was hope that they wouldn’t notice me. During the day, there hadn’t been that many of them, just the occasional marker that appeared as quickly as it disappeared. Since the sun had set, however, they started blinking into existence and staying around.
I’d started second-guessing my choice of pathing a few hours in, but now I downright regretted it. The way through forest was a massive shortcut compared to going around it, but even with daylight it was unfathomably creepy. Now that it was dark, it was terrifying.
Occasionally, I’d had the weird feeling of being watched, even with nothing on my EFS. By far the worst scare—prior to right now—had been the vines whose loops I always seemed to step into. Even if I paid attention to where I was going, I still almost ended up tripping over the strange plant with orange petals every other step. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed it was trying to trip me up.
Come to think of it, I didn’t know any better. Given how much weirdness the wasteland seemed to be able to make up, it really wouldn’t have surprised me to find a plant that moved to catch its prey. Wait, prey? What would have even happened if it caught me? I shuddered despite myself.
A branch cracked to my right, brutally snapping me back to reality. I almost jumped. Come on, Iron, calm down. You’re not far from the other side. If those things wanted to attack you, they already would have, and long ago at that, I mentally reassured myself, to little avail. I could hear my heart beating like a drum. No, like the entirety of an orchestra’s percussions. Thump, tha-thump. Thump, tha-thump. I tried my hardest to keep my breathing even, but I could barely contain my fear.
Occasionally, I would get lightheaded, and my senses would dull, my vision turning to black. Those flashes of dizziness were different than how my head would spin when my ear was acting up and lasted only a few moments. If I focused enough, I managed to stay conscious through them.
I wished I had Candy by my side. Just her presence would have already soothed my anxiety, but I also knew she was able to defend me. Even the guns I’d carried around but had never ended up using would have been a great way to reduce my worries. As it was, however, I was practically naked and had nothing to fight off those creatures with.
Lyrics formed in my mind, and I desperately wanted to sing them. I knew it might cause the red bars to finally go over to attacking, and that would be the opposite of what I would want to achieve. I’d never had such an impulse before, but I’d also never felt emotions this strong. Not even when I’d broken our family’s vase and feared Mother and Father’s reaction. Come to think of it, I’d forgotten what had happened afterward, but it probably didn’t matter.
It definitely didn’t matter right now. I couldn’t let my thoughts stray. I needed to stay alert. This adrenaline-induced heightened state of my senses was most definitely a boon, but I didn’t know how much longer my heart could take it. The way it pounded made me worry it might just give out at any moment.
As I moved forward, time seemed to stretch out further and further. Each minute of walking felt like an eternity, as I was all too aware of my progress. Slowly, ever so slowly, I made my way forward. Thankfully, at least I’d left the creepy plants behind.
I didn’t know how much time had passed, or how close I was to exiting this dreadful forest, when a shape suddenly jumped out onto the dirt path. It was that of a quadruped that appeared in front of me, snarling. A dog? No, looking closer, I noticed it seemed to be made out of twigs and bark. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by its brethren, the circle slowly tightening around me.
Instinctively, I tried to teleport out of the circle—Wait, how do I know how to teleport?—but my horn refused to cooperate. Darn burnout! Cursing my past self, I bolted forward, and the wolves lunged. With my small frame, dodging their teeth was fairly easy.
Or so I thought, until I felt the clothes on my right hindleg rip, along with my skin. Luckily, the fangs didn’t dig in, and I was able to keep running, gritting my teeth through the pain, tears in my eyes. Why me? Why was my luck always this terrible?
Galloping as fast as I could, my heart was ready to burst and my lungs to catch fire. I was just about ready to fall, when I noticed the trees ahead were thinning. Was I out? The extra bit of hope rekindled my motivation, and I ignored the searing agony in my chest.
Storming out of the forest, I noticed to my utter dismay that the timber creatures were still after me. It made sense; why would they stop following me just because I left the forest for a few moments? I needed to get further away! My vision was slowly turning to black as my heart and lungs struggled to supply my head with enough oxygen. Somehow, my gaze got caught on something.
Turning my head, I noticed the familiar orange light and shadows of flames, flickering in the nightly wind. A campfire? I changed my course, running towards the source. If I was lucky, those things would hate fire! Well, more than other living creatures, at the very least.
Unfortunately for me, my limbs couldn’t take it anymore, and I started slowing down despite my best efforts. Come on, legs! Move! Move! But my body was at its limit. I could hear a beast close behind me. Then, it pounced, its teeth dug deeply into my right hindleg’s thigh, much higher up than my previous wound. I collapsed, face slamming into the dirt. As I was losing consciousness, I heard a pony run over. The pain in my leg lessened, then faded with the rest of my senses.
I woke up to a sharp sting in my leg. I groaned. I was… alive? Had whoever lit the campfire saved me? I opened my eyes, shifting to take stress off my wound. Two pieces of my jumpsuit were tied around my thigh, where the fangs had ripped flesh.
Standing next to me was a small grey unicorn mare, straight blue hair hiding her face, with lighter blue strands intermittent. Having noticed my awakening, she turned to me. With the tone of somepony who wanted to scream, but also had to keep quiet, she berated me, “What were you thinking? Bringing those timberwolves to my camp! What were you even doing in the forest, especially at night? What’s wrong with you?” By her voice, I could tell she was young. And she was livid.
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was from her harsh words or from the wound on my leg—which I now noticed had been bandaged with some kind of cloth.
“Oh, come on! Are you seriously gonna cry from getting called out on your stupidity? Everypony knows to not venture into the forest!”
“W-well, I didn’t… know…” I stammered quietly. I’d meant to sound louder, but with the sobs that I was trying hard to suppress, it came out barely stronger than a whimper.
“You know what? Whatever. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with you. Just leave me alone,” she said.
Complying, I slowly stood up and started limping back towards the road. Looking back, I noticed a small hut she was likely staying in, its walls lit up by the fire. I needed to find some place to spend the night—and soon, if I wanted to get any rest. Normally, this little cabin would have worked perfectly, but I didn’t want to bother this stranger who’d just saved me.
“Where are you going?” asked the mare. Didn’t you want me to leave? “I didn’t save you just so that you could get yourself killed right away. Stay here, but don’t bother me. I don’t need a helpless child to look over.” I’m not helpless! Well, maybe I was, but that was due to circumstances. “Good night,” she added before disappearing in the shack.
Confused, I sat back down, and my mind started wandering. The wound on my leg was throbbing painfully. I wondered if it was at risk of getting infected. This didn’t seem like a proper bandage. I wished I’d found some medical supplies in the houses I’d stayed in over the nights, but unfortunately they’d all been picked clean, with the only exception being the occasional food.
At that thought, my stomach rumbled. I reached into my saddlebags and pulled out the half-eaten pack of chips I’d started yesterday. I’d hoped to find some more today, but there hadn’t been any mansions on my path today.
Even with frequent scavenging breaks, walking several hours a day was extremely exhausting. I was just not a pony made for constant physical effort. I was fast, yes, but that hardly mattered for walking long distances. Every day, I’d get tired quicker, though that was likely because of how little I was eating. A horrifying thought crossed my mind—what if I ended up too exhausted to move? Would I just… die?
My worry grew even bigger as I realised that walking would get a lot harder with my injury. I was doomed, wasn’t I? Unless I found some proper amount of food, as well as medical supplies, my chances of survival were slim. This seemed unlikely, given how empty all the houses in the region had been so far. In Detrot, this type of food had been much more common. I missed it. I even missed the cold. Or maybe I just missed Candy.
I still didn’t understand why she was suddenly gone. When would she be back? I couldn’t imagine why she would just leave me out of nowhere. I could feel my pulse rising. It was getting harder and harder to believe that she was fine, and that we had just split up temporarily. And even then! Why would she leave me in such a difficult situation? It doesn’t make sense! Why! Why! Why! Why! It was so hard to reason my mind into optimism. Maybe this was a sign that things really were grim? No!
The words that had come to me previously when walking through the forest crossed my mind again, and I sang them, improvising the melody.
"Though I'm worried, I know we'll be alright.
Though I'm worried, I know we'll be just fine.
Even through all this suffering and blight,
Till the very end hope will never die.
I'm not worried, I know we'll be alright.
I'm not worried, I know we'll be just fine."
It wasn’t good, but it did help me feel better. I would find Candy, and I would fix this situation. There was no point giving up hope. Tomorrow would be a new day and a fresh start. I felt myself starting to get tired, growing sleepier by the minute, basking in the warm glow of the fire. Before I knew it, my eyes were closing on their own.
To my surprise, I woke up inside the shack, alone. The simple cabin only had a bed on the other side of the room, a kettle, and an electric stove. Outside, a single bar stood still on my EFS. As I got my bearings and stood up, I remembered my injury as pain shot up through my leg. I gritted my teeth and ignored how much it hurt. Incredibly hungry and weak, I stepped outside, careful to avoid putting pressure on that leg.
In front of the burnt out campfire sat the young mare that had saved my life yesterday. With the daylight, I could clearly tell she was even younger than I’d expected. Then I noticed her flank was blank. She wasn’t just a young mare, she was a filly!
She turned to look at me, then went back to staring blankly ahead. I hesitated for a moment to wish her a good morning, or to thank her for moving me inside. She didn’t seem in a chatty mood, though. Best if I left her alone.
First and foremost, I needed to find more food. According to my PipBuck, there was a small town several hours away, maybe I’d have more luck there. In three days, I’d not even crossed a third of the distance to the marker on my PipBuck, and each day I managed to cover a shorter distance before growing too exhausted to move forward. Today, though, I would push through, and manage to get to the pre-war town of Marely. I’d previously briefly wondered when my PipBuck had picked up on the location tag.
As I hobbled past the extinguished campfire, the grey filly spoke to me, “Hey, uh, that song yesterday… Was it from your stable or something? I’ve never heard it on the radio.” The frequent pauses in her speech made her sound awkward and uncertain. Was this really the same pony who’d berated me last night?
“N-no,” I replied, stumbling on my own words, “just… just something I came up with on the spot.” I hope she doesn’t think I’m lying. How would I convince her? I wouldn’t lie about this though…
“Really? That’s super impressive!” Now she sounded excited. She paused for a second, then the hesitant tone returned to her voice. “I’m… I’m sorry for last night. I’ve… had a rough few days,” she admitted.
Not knowing what to say, I just nodded. Did she want something from me? Hesitant, I started trotting away once again.
"Say, what's your name?" asked the grey filly. I turned to her, confused. What did she want? Yesterday she'd told me to buzz off, and now she was making smalltalk? Before I got to formulate a response, she added, "I'm Cascade, by the way."
"Iron Sonata," I replied as stoically as I could manage, still confused.
We stared at each other in silence for a few more minutes, then I turned around once again.
After only a few seconds, she commented, “Is your cutie mark related to singing?”
I wished she would just tell me what she needed. Would it be rude to just leave? Yes, but I had to get going. I wanted to ask her directly, but I couldn't figure out how to do so in a polite manner. "What do you need from me?" was much too direct for my liking. Maybe I could ask around the topic? Try to lead her into it? First I needed to answer her own question, anyway.
"No, I don’t have a cutie mark," I replied after an uncomfortably long silence. I’d already tried singing back in the stable, so there was no way my little song had gotten me my mark.
“Oh, I don’t have one either,” she said, then sheepishly added, “as… you’ve probably noticed.”
I held back a sigh. Instead, I softly told her, “Look, I would love to stay and chat, but I really need to find some food soon, and ideally some healing potion.” Maybe this would finally get her to tell me what she needed from me. If not, I would just go away without asking for her approval; I really had no obligations to her, after all.
“Well, I wanted to ask you… Would you like to tag along with me?” Now that was a weird request.
I stared at her, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted me to stay out of your mane.” Why did she suddenly want to travel with me? “Didn’t you call me a helpless foal just yesterday?” I added in a sardonic tone. Was I being too rude? I regretted that last comment. Although, she was a jerk to me yesterday, so it’s not like I’m the only rude one. Wait, what am I doing? She might think I don’t want to. “Uh, I mean, of course I would want to, I just don’t understand why you changed your mind.”
“Well… you see… I’m very lonely. And I’d feel bad leaving behind somepony inexperienced and vulnerable,” she admitted.
“Uh, okay.” My pride was a little hurt at her comment, but I had to admit I wasn’t the best equipped, mentally and physically, to handle the wasteland without Candy by my side. “Like I said, I’m fine with it, but I really need to find food today. So, if we could start moving soon…”
Before I knew it, she was digging through her saddlebags and offering me a pack of instamash. “You can have this.”
“Don’t I need to boil water for that?” I puzzled, accepting the plastic-wrapped food in my hooves.
“Nah, you can just levitate chunks into your mouth. Ain’t nearly as good, but it does feed you, and I don’t want to waste time getting more firewood right now,” Cascade clarified.
Shaking my head, I explained, “I’m burnt out though. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been caught by those wolves yesterday.”
“You know a fire spell as well? Mine isn’t enough to use against them, but it works for lighting a campfire.”
“No, why?” I wondered.
“Well, it’s the only thing that works against them. I don’t think whatever you’re thinking of could have damaged them; the only thing they fear is open flames.”
“Oh. Well I wasn’t planning on attacking them. I don’t think I know any offensive magic. I just wanted to teleport away from the pack.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You know how to teleport? That’s pretty advanced magic, surprised someone your age would know it.”
I shrugged. “Apparently. I don’t remember learning it, but my horn does.” Still had trouble understanding how that worked.
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she deadpanned. I couldn’t blame her; even I had a hard time believing it. Maybe I was misremembering things?
“Anyway, in that case, you can just do it the earth pony way and shake it directly into your mouth.” After a brief pause, she shook her head. “Nevermind, you look too skinny, and I shouldn’t be giving you the worst stuff I have.” Digging through her saddlebags, she produced a can of Corn ‘N’ Beans, and pulled the tab off the tin.
After she levitated it to me, I swiftly devoured it. Even though my stomach was full, I wanted more, but now wasn’t the time.
“You heading anywhere in particular?” Cascade inquired.
I nodded in reply. “I got separated from my sister. Well, she’s not really my sister, but she’s all I have. My only hint is that I’m supposed to go to Manehattan.”
“I was planning on getting there eventually, so that works for me.” I still didn’t fully understand why she suddenly wanted to travel with me, but asking again would be rude.
Later that day, I was waiting in a ruined house at the outskirts of a settlement. To my surprise, it appeared as if ponies actually lived here. Maybe they—or their ancestors—were the ones who emptied all the houses in the region? I levitated another slice of canned apple into my mouth, and my PipBuck complained about the radiation by passive-aggressively clicking at me. I quickly marvelled at how crunchy the fruit was, even after eighteen decades.
Cascade had left to get more supplies two and a half hours ago, and the afternoon was slowly making way for the evening. I was starting to worry something had happened to her. I knew I should have gone with her instead of jumping on the first proper opportunity to rest. A part of me screamed that I shouldn’t be worried about a filly I had barely just met, but I ignored it. I liked her, and I certainly wouldn’t wish for anything bad to happen to her. Plus she’d been so kind to me, why would I not be worried about her?
My mind wandered to earlier that day when we’d first entered town early in the afternoon. Before we walked up to a merchant, Cascade had told me, “I’m going to beg each of the merchants to give us some food. I’d tell you to look pitiful, but you do that well enough without trying, so just follow me.” I’d been hurt by that comment, but in hindsight I had to admit she was right. I had a curious but sad look in my eyes. Coupled with my numerous scars, as well as my general “innocent filly” aura, it was no surprise that adults would pity me. In the end, we’d managed to scrounge up a bit of food—including the apples I was eating right now—but nopony had given us any of the medical supplies we needed.
After I finished my can, I nervously kept watch over my PipBuck’s clock. I desperately wanted to do something while waiting for her return, but the only activity I could think of was scavenging, and I couldn’t go anywhere in case she came back. I’d already combed this place, finding a few spare bullets and some BronCo Mac & Cheese. So, all I could do was watch the minutes slowly tick away. Stars, was I bored.
Eventually, after another fifty minutes of excruciating boredom, I heard steps outside the small building I was hiding in. I cautiously peeked through the window, finding Cascade trotting towards the door.
Stepping in, she smiled at me. “Guess who got healing supplies, as well as food to last us half a week?”
“Woah! That’s great!” I exclaimed. “How did you find so much in so little time? In four days I didn’t even stumble upon a single medical item!”
“You just gotta know where to look,” she said in a silly voice, then giggled. “Just kidding. I finessed it from one of the merchants in town. I think they were suspicious of me though, so we should leave as soon as possible.”
“Fee messed?” I raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean? Is that like a bartering term for getting a good deal on something?”
She stuck her tongue out. “I stole this. Wasn’t caught red-horned, but when they realise some of their stock is missing, they’ll probably blame it on the only stranger in town.”
“Wait, you stole from somepony? After they were so nice to us? How could you?” I asked, shocked and disappointed, as well as sad for the poor pony who’d lost his or her merchandise.
Cascade’s smile immediately died on her lips, and she stammered, “I… How are… You really… I don’t get you.” Anger churned within me. How was I in the wrong here?
“What? Because I don’t like the idea of stealing from some poor wastelander just trying to get by? What exactly is hard to understand about that?” I retorted, somehow managing to keep my voice level.
“Look at yourself first!” Clearly, my semi-calm accusations had gotten to her. “You’re so concerned about the quote-unquote poor wastelander, but have you seen yourself? Sonata, you’re so thin a strong breeze will knock you over, can barely walk three hours without collapsing, and have a festering wound on your back leg! You’re not a damn hero, you’re a wasteland orphan; the very bottom of the food chain.”
Anger turned to fury. She’d just stolen from an innocent pony, and now I was the villain? Venomous words started forming on my tongue, before I realised that it wasn’t what she was saying or even implying at all. I calmed down slightly. “Are you saying it’s alright to steal from somepony just because I’m worse off than them?” By that logic, it would have been perfectly acceptable to steal from the overmare, and yet everypony understood that stealing was messed up! Except we had security systems to prevent that from happening.
“No, but I am saying that you should value your life more! You will not last long if you simply agree to taking the hand fate’s dealt you and rolling with it! You’re weak and pathetic, and I don’t plan on letting your foolish and naïve stable dweller morals kill you.” When she finished her sentence, I was tearing up, my temper having cooled down. To my surprise, she hugged me. Her embrace wasn’t as warm or tight as Candy’s; instead it was awkward, and felt as if she was holding me simply to make me feel better. Thankfully it did, and I managed to avoid bursting into sobs.
Before I could reply anything, she added, “It’s why I said I don’t understand you. Your scars tell me you’re a survivor; that you always get back up from being knocked down—no matter how much it hurts. You seem like you should at least understand some of the basics of life in the wasteland, despite your stupid stable jumpsuit.” Come to think of it, I had no memories of the wounds that had caused my scars. Seeing my missing ear in particular had shocked me, but I hadn’t dared ask Candy about its cause.
The grey filly continued, “But the way I’ve seen you act paints a completely different picture. You take a shortcut through a dangerous forest. Then, when saved by a stranger, you seem more concerned with not bothering her than your continued survival, despite your rather serious wounds. And now you place morality over your own life. You just don’t make sense, Sonata.” I could tell she was on the verge of tears as well, ready to wash out her ire.
I had no idea what to reply, so I simply went quiet. My mind’s chaotic maze of thoughts was impossible to make sense of. Finally, after both of us stayed quiet for at least a whole minute, she asked me, in a lighter tone that still carried the situation’s seriousness, “So, Sonata, what’s your deal? You some kind of naïve stable filly stuck in a scarred and experienced wastelander’s body?”
“I… don’t know.” She deadpanned me. “No, really. I have a bad case of amnesia, and I don’t even remember how I got those scars.” An interesting idea suddenly crossed my mind. “Come to think of it, my memory issues might be related to how I got them.” As she raised an eyebrow in curiosity, I explained my theory, “I probably keep getting into trouble and hurt, then forgetting about it, and making the same mistakes over and over again. Until now, my sister was taking care of me, but without her, I’m probably very much in danger out here.” This idea wasn’t perfect, but it was something.
"Oh, sweet Celestia, what have I gotten myself into?" she muttered to herself. Then, to me, she said, "How confident are you sure we can find your sister in Manehattan?"
"Not very. It's just that I marked the location, so it must mean something. Even if she's not there, there will most likely be some kind of clue." At least I hoped so. What would I do if not? I didn't want to think about it.
"I see… In any case, let's bandage your leg, eat, then get moving. I'm afraid they might figure me out and come get us if we stick around."
She undid the knot around my leg, tossing the scrap of jumpsuit and revealing a gruesome wound. I felt myself grow nauseous and looked away before I lost my feeble lunch. The pain got worse when she removed the makeshift bandage. The magical compress touched my thigh, and a cool sensation spread throughout my limb, washing away some of the hurt. Healing magic was the best.
“By the way, why have you never asked your sister to keep closer tabs on you? It seems like she could have prevented a great deal of it, if she’s as strong as you’ve told me.”
This was the major flaw of my theory. “I don’t know. I thought about it, and with what I currently know, it doesn’t make sense. Even without asking her, she would have been able to protect me from most things. Though there’s also the issue that she doesn’t know about my amnesia. Well, maybe she does, I don’t know. I think I might need to tell her, but I really don’t want to worry her.” Cascade glared at me. “Right. I’ll tell her next time I see her. If I remember, that is. To be honest, I don’t even know if I told her already.”
“I’ll try to remind you about it when we get there. And maybe you should start a journal—you know how to write, right?” I nodded. “Cool, I’ll tell her to find you a notebook or something.”
I shook my PipBuck. “No need, I can keep a journal on here!”
When we finally left the old building, we headed down the road we'd come from—it was apparently the only way around the settlement, and we were best off not going through it. I limped behind Cascade, and she eventually turned around to look at me. "I wish we could stay here and let your leg heal a bit longer, but we really can't risk getting found. I don't think they would dare hurt somepony as young as me—well, at least not in a serious way, at least—but I don't want to take any risks." She resumed watching her step.
"What… would they do to us if we were older?" I asked, worried about the answer.
"Most ponies wouldn't hesitate to gang up on a thief and beat them senseless. Some might even kill you. Meanwhile, grown-ups always have a soft spot for foals, as you’ve noticed in our first trip to town.” She briefly paused to step over a large rock. “Even the grumpy ones will say that killing a kid is killing hope itself; it's killing the future. If word gets out that you've killed a child, your life span tends to significantly shrink." She looked at me once again. "I've met foals who will take advantage of that, mess with adults knowing they won't shoot. I… I'm too cautious. There's always going to be somepony crazy enough to murder young ones; mostly raiders, but even relatively sane ponies have breaking points." She walked over next to me and slowed her pace to adapt to mine.
I gulped. "When you talk about it like that, I get reminded of my own mortality, and it scares me," I replied. "I know it sounds strange, coming from somepony as… physically damaged as me, but I mean it. Perhaps because of my amnesia, I've never thought about somepony intentionally trying to end my life, let alone experienced it. With the timberwolves it was just their instinct, so I didn't even consider it an attempt on my life, just like I wouldn't consider that time a bookshelf almost fell on me one either."
She nodded calmly. "Uh-huh. Just a question. How long have you been out of the stable?" I couldn’t help but interpret this as an attack on my person, but swallowed my pride.
"According to my PipBuck, less than four months, but it feels like just over a week. The times I remember are all very foggy, and only a few hours at a time. Meanwhile, the past four days are the clearest memories I've had in what seems like years," I answered, oddly melancholic.
Over the next few days, my leg mostly healed up, though the skin remained sensitive in that spot. Cascade and I slowly got to know each other better as we made our way to Manehattan. She was an orphan who'd recently had to bury her mother. Eventually, she admitted that the biggest reason she wanted to travel with me was not that she needed the company, but because she thought I would get myself killed, and that she'd feel guilty about that. While it did sting a little, I perfectly understood why she'd think that—I was a danger to myself, after all.
As we were drawing closer to Manehattan, our supplies were starting to run out. The surroundings of the Town of Marely had been scavenged clean, and its inhabitants were now relying solely on trading with travellers—at least that was my speculation for what had happened to the region. How else would it have become so devoid of salvageable food? What they used in those trades remained a mystery to me, given that I hadn't talked to the ponies there. However, given the meagerness of their supplies, I doubted it was anything too valuable.
As I explained my little theory to Cascade, she simply shook her head. "No, this is normal in terms of food. You won't find much unless you're somewhere really dangerous, or you comb every building you come across." She continued trotting forward, then added, “They probably trade meat and crops, if you ask me.” I wondered how crops could grow without sunlight, but I pushed that thought aside. Wait, meat? I fail to see how that’s a lucrative business, ponies don’t eat meat. I focused my mind in one direction at a time.
Detrot hadn't struck me as particularly dangerous. Dangerously cold, maybe, but not if you knew to take the proper precautions. "What about regions where there just aren't many ponies?"
"I mean, if there aren't many ponies somewhere, it's probably for a good reason. You mentioned you've been to Detrot, right? There's… scary rumours about that region."
“Really? From what I remember, there’s just ghouls and cold weather,” I told her, curious to hear what she had to say about it.
“You’ve never heard of it? Something that comes up a lot is the idea of windigos, though I think it’s very imaginative ponies being at the wrong place at the wrong time. With how cold it is, it makes sense that ponies would end up believing in old mare’s tales.” She shrugged. “There’s also stories of a giant mare made of solid black, roaming the plains at night, and that sounds too original to be made up. Though, again, legends are legends, and I wouldn’t ever take them at face value, but there’s probably something to those.”
A shiver ran down my spine, my mind flashing images of a huge figure destroying everything in its path, ruined buildings, skeletons, and live ponies alike. A particularly gruesome thought crossed my mind; a foal squashed underneath a table-sized hoof, bones crushed flat and blood splattered evenly in the print. I got queasy, but somewhere, deep in my consciousness, part of me laughed. I bolted to the side of the road and lost my lunch. Potatoes did not taste as good on their way out, and my PipBuck reminded me that they had been slightly irradiated. Thanks.
“You okay? What’s wrong?” called out Cascade, levitating me a canteen of water.
“I had a very gross and vivid thought cross my head. I feel bad for wasting food like that, and I feel stupid,” I admitted shamefully.
“It’s okay, I think they were bad anyway. We should probably stop to scavenge soon regardless, so it’s not a huge loss.” She took a moment to gaze up. “This is starting to look more promising.” Indeed, as we were approaching the large city, more and more buildings had started popping up. “If I remember correctly, there’s a good neighbourhood with many multi-storey buildings, where not everything has been completely picked clean.”
“Didn’t you say we won’t find much anyway?” I asked. What was the point of scavenging if we wouldn’t find anything?
“Well, yeah, per apartment, but in a large enough settlement you’ll always find gems in the rough. Especially since bigger settlements tend to attract raiders and bandits, which in turn discourage scavengers.”
“Doesn’t that mean we should avoid those as well?”
“No, that just means we should be sneaky about it. As much as I’d love to be able to afford avoiding danger at all costs, that’s just not on the table for a filly like me.” I nodded in reply, and we continued trotting forward.
Digging up my previous thought, I said, “So, you mentioned meat, but… I thought ponies didn’t eat meat?”
Shrugging, she replied, “I mean, most don’t, but some do. I dunno how they do it; when I got my hooves on some, I got so sick I thought I was gonna die.”
Our conversation continued along those lighter themes; speculating about Marely’s trade, talking about food preferences, and other such things.
In the evening, we finally arrived at Buckville, the northernmost district of Manehattan. Cascade told me to stay close to buildings and out of sight, and I decided to keep her updated on hostiles—and neutrals—in the area with my EFS. We’d looked through a few buildings and found quite a few objects of interest; mostly food and the occasional baubles that might sell well, like intact cups, a well-preserved music sheet, and several boxes and cartons of cigarettes. Apparently ponies paid pretty bits for the latters. We also found some bottles of alcohol, which—according to Cascade—also sold fairly well, though we didn’t have a proper way to transport more than a few of them.
We were sneaking close to a building when we heard gunshots. Immediately, my companion dove for a narrow alleyway, and I followed suit. Red bars started appearing on both sides. Cascade tried to open a door leading inside one of the buildings, then shook her head, whispering, “Fuck. Blocked from the inside.” Hearing somepony my age swear kept shocking me, even though I’d heard her do it before.
An idea crossed my mind; how long had it been since my burnout? Focusing on a pebble, I felt my magic sense come back, momentarily overwhelming me. It reminded me of that time when I got sick as a young filly, and my ears would constantly pop. Often when it happened, the sudden increase in volume would startle me.
This confirmed any suspicions that my magic had returned; probably had been for a day or two. As a test, I levitated the rock in front of me, then picked out the first object that I found in my saddlebags—a bottle of Wild Pegasus whiskey. Cascade raised an eyebrow. “You sure this is the right moment to drink? Unless you plan on getting drunk and fighting everyone off like some kind of alcoholic hero,” she snarked.
“N-no,” I stammered in response. “I was just checking if my magic was back,” I defensively whined.
“Not that I’m unhappy to finally see your magic—interesting to see such an aggressive colour for somepony as gentle as you, by the way—but how’s that going to help us?” she wondered.
I looked up and found many balconies sticking out onto the narrow street. Somepony hadn’t planned very well when constructing this apartment complex; those should have been looking over a main street. “Let me try something.” Enveloping Cascade with my aura, I focused my magic and let my horn guide me through the motions of a teleportation spell. Something was off, however. The spell wasn’t aiming at the right place at all; if this kept on, I would end up underground. I attempted to correct the spell, but I didn’t understand what it was doing well enough, and it fizzled.
I didn’t have time to experiment! We needed to get to safety. I attempted the spell again, following my instinct. Right as it was finished, I shoved the entire… blob of magic onto the balcony, my horn illuminating the entire street a bright crimson. Immediately after we reappeared on a terrace, several metres above where we’d just been, I was hit with the backlash of moving such an enormous amount of energy. There had to be a better way to do this. I rubbed my temples in an attempt to soothe the pulsating agony throbbing in my head.
“Wow, you actually did it! Are you a magical prodigy or something? Or is this normal for stable dwellers?” Cascade asked excitedly, then placed a hoof over her muzzle and whispered, “Oops, didn’t mean to be so loud.”
“I don’t think I’m that special. I have pretty strong magic, but it’s nothing too out of the ordinary, at least according to Auntie Iodine.”
While I was explaining my magical aptitude, an idea flashed into my head. This spell was very similar to my tool conjuring spell, just more advanced. Maybe I could use this to lift the limitations on that? Maybe I would be able to figure out how to teleport complex items…
“Hmm… anyway, we should get inside,” she told me, snapping me out of my theorising, while climbing through the balcony window.
The living room we found ourselves in was barely bigger than my old quarters in the stable, barely illuminated by the evening daylight. To my left were two half-open doors, as well as a kitchen. The broken remains of a rotten table lay in front of what had once been a couch. The rest of the furniture in the room fared much better, but I still wouldn't have trusted any of it with my body weight.
Cascade immediately began rummaging through the different drawers, completely disregarding the situation we'd been in not even a whole two minutes ago. After all, we weren't really in danger anymore, unless the ponies participating in the shootout decided to investigate some arbitrary building all of a sudden. Thus, I joined her efforts, searching through a different commode.
Inside I found some odd instruments. One of them was a stick with a frazzled ball of cloth attached via a short string. Curious, I placed it into my saddlebags and watched as my PipBuck labelled it as 'cat toy'. I put it back in the drawer. All of these seemed to be made with a similar goal in mind: to attract attention to an object and away from the handle. I suspected only earth ponies would use those, as a unicorn could simply levitate the object at the end, instead of needing a handle. Why were there so many of them? Did cats really need so many toys? We hadn’t had any in the stable.
As I looked through the rest of the drawers, I found more pointless objects. Moldy paper, moldy novels, tattered clothing. One of the jackets seemed in particularly good condition, and after Cascade told me it might hold some value, I added it to my saddlebags. Overall, the living room did not hold anything useful. Even the bottles of liquor had already been opened, and thus had lost their taste over the decades, and were now worthless, clear liquid.
The first room in the short corridor was a bedroom. On the ruined mattress lay a pair of pony skeletons wrapped in an embrace. Those poor ponies had at least been able to spend the last few hours of their lives together, and I felt tears welling in my eyes at the thought. It was only when I looked closer that I noticed that in-between them lay one more skeleton, belonging to a comparatively tiny creature. As my mind caught up with the ramifications, a few tears flowed down my face, and I cried for the little family who had died here, hundred and eighty years ago.
Cascade spoke up from behind me, snapping me out of my sad reverie, "Could you move? You're blocking the doorway." I complied and started looking through their things. With the sight of the skeletons, I suddenly felt bad for rummaging through their belongings and taking whatever I wanted. The rational part of me protested—it wasn't like those ponies needed it anymore. Of course, that part of me was correct, but it still didn’t sit right with me.
Eventually, we picked out everything we could from the bedroom and moved onto the kitchen, where we found several cans of beans in a closet—it still amazed me that food could stay edible this long. Nothing else had survived all these years. Given that the entrance door was still locked, I doubted anypony else had scavenged this particular flat.
We opened the door from the inside, finding our way to other apartments. Unfortunately, we found that most of them were locked, and Cascade's lockpicking skills weren't up to the task. We ended up looking through many of the unlocked homes, which had clearly already been looted, and only the occasional can or bag of food remained.
Eventually, my eyes started closing on their own, and we decided it was best to stop for the night. We locked ourselves up in an apartment with a decent lock.
When I woke up, I noticed that Cascade had already left. I could hear arguing in the distance, echoing in the stairwell. As I checked my PipBuck, I noticed that I'd slept eleven whole hours! Why didn’t she wake me up?
I then noticed there were two white bars on my EFS. Likely the ponies arguing. Slowly coming to my senses, I started understanding what they were saying.
"I don't care! This is my territory, and you need to get the fuck out," a stallion's voice boomed. By his tone, he seemed deranged.
"How would I know that‽" yelled Cascade. "And even then, who decided it was yours? No one owns these ruins!"
I started creeping towards the direction of the voices, careful to not make a sound. In the next flat over, a dirty earth pony stallion loomed over the grey filly. He wore saddlebags, as well as some sort of bag around his neck. Distracted by the sight, I accidentally kicked a bit of rubble, drawing his attention, making his ears perk and twitch.
As he turned around, I noticed the bag around his neck was more like a basket, holding a pistol at his muzzle’s reach. “Another one? Fuck outta here!” While he was distracted, the gun glowed green and floated away from him.
“Leave us be, now. We’ll be out of your mane soon enough,” stated Cascade, shakily pointing the firearm at the scavenger. He seemed surprised and started moving out of her way, letting her walk towards me. Cascade slowly made her way over to me, still keeping the large stranger at bay with her newly acquired gun. She looked over at me, checking if I was alright.
The moment she took his eyes off of him, the stallion charged her, slamming her into the wall. He picked up his gun and started screaming, “That’s what you get for being on my turf!” He turned to me, pointing it at me. “You’ll need to give me everything you stole from me. I know you stole stuff, I can see it in your eyes!”
Behind him, I could see Cascade clinging to consciousness, just like me. I meekly replied to him, “O-okay. Just p-please don’t hurt m-me.” I hated how weak I sounded; how weak I was; unable to defend myself or my friend from a crazy scavenger. My heart was pounding in my chest and my vision was fading to black.
What‽ I couldn’t black out here! If I did, he would kill Cascade and I. This added stress only made my heart beat faster, and my senses grow number. “Come on! Move it, you little twat!” he yelled, towering over me. The world turned to black, and my final thoughts went to regretting having caused Cascade’s death.
The fact that he was speaking meant his tongue wasn’t on the trigger. Snapping fully back to reality, I used this opportunity to rip the Ironshod Firearms N99 straight out of his muzzle with a sharp telekinetic pull. Several broken brownish teeth followed the gun, scattering on the floor, trails of saliva following them.
I turned the pistol around and shoved it in his maw, aiming to the top left to avoid splattering Cascade with gore—or worse, accidentally shooting her through him. I almost pulled the trigger, but in that last fraction of a second, activated SATS instead. I queued a bullet to the back of his throat, and watched in utter delight as the back of his head exploded in a spray of brains, enjoying every moment of the scene in front of me.
In the slowed time, one thought crossed my mind, Did I seriously use SATS just to get a slow motion view of a head exploding? There is no way that’s normal. I just hope this won’t come back to bite me in the rear.
As the spell ended, I almost worried that somepony as stupid as him might survive having his brain blown out, given that he clearly had not been using it until now. Then, I noticed my friend staring in horror as I’d ended his miserable life right in front of her. At first she stared at him for a few moments, aghast. Then, her gaze finally turned to me. “W-wha-what?” she stammered, before the pain overtook her and she finally lost consciousness.
I sighed, removed her saddlebags—I couldn’t levitate them and her at the same time—and lifted her off the ground. Even though she was quite a bit heavier than me, I could carry her with a few layers of overglow. I was near my limit, but I knew not to overexert myself anymore. Ten days ago will be the last time I burn out. In theory, I could have even lifted only her front hooves and dragged her over to the mattress we’d slept on, but I didn’t want to risk hurting her more than she was already. As I placed her on the mattress, I checked for broken bones, but didn’t find any obvious ones. Though with the force of that impact, I doubt she’s completely unscathed. I made sure to lay her on her side, with her head lifted away from the rest of her body, just like Candy had taught me.
After picking up her saddlebags along with the lunatic stranger’s, disposing of his body, and finally locking us in the apartment we’d slept in, I spent several hours pacing the living room and thinking. Why had I lost my memory, only to get it back when it was convenient? Why had I acted the way I had? Some of the things I’d said and done were very much out of character… weren’t they? Could it really all be explained by amnesia? Maybe. In a way, without my memories, I was a different pony, so that probably explained why I had felt guilty over things that normally I wouldn’t have noticed.
On top of that, it surprised me how little sadness or anger I felt, unlike… that night. I was just… numb and melancholic, as if the time without my memories had mellowed me out. It seemed wrong to be this calm after somepony had just murdered my best friend. Then again, an entire week had passed…
I spent some time thinking about it, but once my mind started running in circles, frustrating me beyond belief, I decided I badly needed a distraction. Instead, I wanted to focus on something else entirely; magic. But what can I do? I shouldn’t be straining my horn, so practice is out of the question. Who knows when I’ll need to teleport again? Mentally shuffling through my catalogue of spells, my thoughts stopped on the tool conjuring spell. Specifically, how similar it was to teleportation. I shouldn’t practice it, but I could always theorise about it. Running through the motions of both spells in my head, I compared them as well as I could. I see…
Eventually, Cascade came to. “Hey,” I said.
She groaned in response, then sat up slowly, rubbing her right temple. “Hey. My head hurts like crazy. How long was I out?”
“Couple of hours,” I told her. “There’s still a few hours of daylight we can use, if you’re alright. Wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not, though; you took a pretty brutal hit, and I know how that feels like.” My first encounter with a ghoul came to mind, and I shuddered. “I could let you rest here while I explore the rest of the complex.”
She nodded, then asked, “I think you would need to find a way to pick the locks, since I’m pretty sure everything else was picked clean by that junkie.” I had recovered a few chems from his saddlebags; they were the only valuable objects in them.
“I don’t think I can. I was planning on teleporting onto a balcony or two. I can only use the spell a few times a day before I risk burning out.” I looked at her and inquired, “So, do you wanna come with me, or would you rather stay here for a bit?”
She hesitated briefly, then answered, “I think I’ll be fine, just gimme five minutes to properly wake up.” An awkward silence covered the room like a thick blanket. Eventually, she spoke up again, “You’re odd, you know that? One day you show extreme remorse over stealing from somepony, the next you execute some stallion in cold blood. I don’t get it.” Calling it in cold blood was a bit misleading, given that I’d felt immense joy, though that definitely only proved her point further.
“I don’t know how or why, but I got my memories back, and I’m very different from the pony you met six days ago. Unlike her, I’ve earned my scars. It would be a lie to claim I’m suddenly a wasteland veteran, but the memories I lost weren’t just of the wasteland, but also of my time inside of the stable.” I’d completely forgotten how my father had beaten me black and blue after I’d smashed that vase. I sighed. “Point is, I’m nowhere near as naïve as her.”
“That’s a relief. If I’m honest, I only joined you because my conscience wouldn’t let me just leave you behind. I felt like, if I let you leave without me, you would die within a week.” She smiled at me. “I’ve grown fond of you, so I wouldn’t mind continuing to travel together. At least until we meet up with your friend Candy.”
“Well, that’s the issue. Candy won’t be here,” I stated, averting my gaze.
"What? I thought she was waiting for you in Manehattan?" By the tone of her voice I could tell she knew what I was implying. She just wanted to make sure she wasn't jumping to conclusions.
"No, she was killed in front of my eyes, in western Manehattan. I think the amnesia might have been my body’s way of surviving, since, after she died, I was just ready to let myself die in that mansion.” I didn’t know if that was something the pony body was able to do, but it was my best assumption.
“I see… I’m sorry for your loss.” She stayed silent for a moment, either letting her words sink in, or trying to think of what to say. After a while, she asked me, “But why did you place that marker there? As a grave?”
I shook my head. “It's there so that I can find my belongings and caravan."
Tilting her head, she queried, "You own a caravan? Why did you leave it there?"
"Didn't have much of a choice when I was teleported away."
"Would you mind giving me the full story? I'm a bit lost here, if I'm honest."
"Sure, but I'd rather we work on getting supplies while I tell you." She nodded, and I got us onto the balcony of the flat above us, which we knew was locked. While we looked through drawers and cupboards, I told her everything. From my feelings of paranoia, that turned out to be an alicorn’s invisibility spell, to Candy's gruesome demise.
“I’m… sorry to hear that,” repeated Cascade, shocked and saddened. A part of my brain wondered why she cared so much, but the rest shushed it, as I just wanted to appreciate her compassion. Then, she added, “Do you… want to stick together after we get your stuff back? If we get it back.”
I wanted to hesitate, but I didn’t have a reason to turn her down. “I think I wouldn’t mind your company,” I replied with a small, sad smile. “Though I still have a very slim hope that Candy somehow survived the fall. In the off-chance that she’s alive, would you want to travel with us?” I doubted the ex-security mare would still want to start our mercenary career, given her wounds. At best she would be missing a leg, but she probably suffered more injuries due to the impact.
She thought about it for a moment, before answering, “I think so, if you’ll have me.” I briefly wondered what her reasons for hesitation were, but didn’t press the issue.
We continued ransacking the small apartment for a while, until Cascade asked me, “You mentioned you were going to get a job around here, and I was curious… were you gonna work for Tenpony Tower as guards? It’s far from the only job in the region that could work for former caravan guards, but I feel like it’s the most likely to currently be hiring.”
“Nope, we were actually just passing through Manehattan. We were going to work in Fillydelphia,” I stated flatly. It had seemed like a promising avenue of work, but pursuing it without Candy was simply pointless. We worked well as a duo—much better than the sum of our pieces—and I even doubted they wanted to train somepony my age, despite my skill with rifles.
She raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’d work for the slavers?” The ponies in Fillydelphia owned slaves? Well, given that they’re trying to rebuild some order, it makes sense they would use unpaid labour.
“Yeah, I think so, why?” was my simple reply.
Her expression turned to a scowl, and she kept quiet at first. Then, after a few moments, she rasped bitterly, “Nevermind. Forget I asked.” I was still curious, but I didn’t feel like risking souring her mood further. She most likely had a rationally sound reason for her behaviour.
We stayed quiet for the rest of the day, and I started worrying I'd said something bad.
Eventually, afternoon turned to evening, evening to night, and we found a mattress to sleep on.
The next day, we were walking towards the west side of Manehattan. Cascade had overall avoided talking since our conversation yesterday, but she no longer seemed as angry with me, and wasn’t giving me the quiet treatment anymore. Thus, I took my chance and asked her, "You seemed upset by my reply yesterday, how come? I didn't dare to ask about it in the moment.”
For a while, she stared at me in shock, anger occasionally flashing. However, confusion was the overwhelming emotion on her face. "You really don't know?" she finally asked. I shook my head, and she continued, "I don't like the fact that you were considering working with slavers. I understand it's a harsh world, and that a lot of ponies would do a lot of things to ensure their survival, but slavery just doesn't sit right with me."
She sounded like Candy when she would speak about killing another pony. Did that mean that slavery was also wrong? "I don't like asking this, since you might get angry at me, but… is slavery wrong?" Sheepishly, I added, "I'm really bad at that stuff."
She blinked. "Of course it is! How would you feel if someone took away your freedom and forced you to work until exhaustion?"
"I guess I wouldn't like it…" I quietly admitted. She did have a point, but at the same time, it wasn't happening to me, so why did I need to care? Maybe I should just trust her on this… "I guess you're right. I just didn't think of it this way."
"I don't get it, when you'd lost your memory, you were so much more… compassionate. Now you say something like this. What happened to you to make you so cold? Did life in the wasteland really treat you this harshly?"
"Like I said, my life in the wasteland wasn't the only part of my memory I'd lost. I seemed to have completely forgotten certain aspects of my life in the stable as well. I won't bore you with the details, since ponies seem to pity me when they hear them." And I hated being pitied. It made me feel weak.
She looked like she wanted to ask about it, but decided against it. Instead, we fell into silence again.
Eventually, we reached the building marked on my PipBuck. Walking around it, I was unable to find either my saddlebags, harness with all my weapons, or even Candy's body. I did find a blood stain on the ground, about where I would have expected her corpse to be. Maybe I would find her PipBuck on top of the tower, but what would that bring me? My model was more advanced, anyway.
This slightly raised my hopes. There was the chance she'd survived, swallowed a healing potion, and walked away. It was incredibly unlikely, but the fact that this option existed gave me hope. Maybe I should check on top anyway. She’ll want her PipBuck back when I see her again. If she’s alive, that is. If she’s not—I made myself stop thinking about it.
Cascade's voice rang out behind me, "Should she be here?" I nodded, oddly calm.
"I want to ask the locals if they've seen her." On my EFS, a few white bars flickered in the distance. "Hopefully none of them are as crazy as that stallion yesterday." Cascade reluctantly agreed. “First, I’d like to get up that building.”
Unfortunately, the wagon was already gone. After we retrieved her PipBuck, we went from pony to pony, finding scavengers with very different reactions upon seeing us. None of them had seen Candy, though. But neither had they seen her body being eaten by ghouls or anything like that. There was still hope.
Eventually, after a couple of hours, we seemed to have found and talked to everypony around here. One of them did suggest we talk to the owner of the general store nearby, who apparently “saw everything”. We needed to sell off our loot, as well as buy food and hopefully ammunition or another gun, so we decided it was best to do it now.
As Cascade bartered to sell individual scavenged objects, my eyes got caught on the assortment of weaponry he had lying on the table behind him. Leaning on the counter, I took a closer look at them. Several muzzleguns were strewn out. Another N99 10mm pistol as well as two revolvers. Curiosity flooded my mind, and I desperately wanted to take one of them apart. I’d seen illustrations in The Mechanical Marvels of Firearms, but I craved the feeling of dismantling the gun in my telekinetic grip, and inspecting each and every piece individually.
Unfortunately, they were probably much out of our price range. So far, Cascade had haggled out less than hundred and fifty caps, and this most likely cost much more. However, as my disappointment slowly grew, I spotted a familiar sight. The Wild Weaponry Mark II Varmint rifle. The exact same model—with a slightly different finish—that I’d previously owned. Due to my experience with the rifle I knew that this model had been so common prior to the megaspells that even now it could be found for cheap.
Interjecting in Cascade and the vendor’s bartering, I asked, “How much for the rifle? Do I get to look at it closer before we buy it?” I tried my best to not sound condescending, despite his uneducated accent.
“Wait, don’t we already have a pistol? Should we really be wasting caps on another firearm?” challenged the grey unicorn.
“Well, if you insist, we can sell him that, since I vastly prefer rifles over any pistol.” Though I had to admit, those revolvers seemed extremely enticing right now. “But I’d prefer if we each had a gun.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you know I have no idea how to use a pistol, right?”
“It’s not that hard, you just point and pull the trigger,” I rebutted. She deadpanned. “Alright, if you don’t want it, that’s fine, but in that case I’d rather keep it as a secondary firearm just for last-ditch situations.”
“Guns are expensive, though. We really don’t have that much,” she argued.
“This is a particularly cheap type of rifle. He’d be crazy to sell it over seventy caps.” I was fully aware that even eighty caps would have been reasonable for this rifle, but I was also fully aware that despite our semi-hushed tones, he could hear us perfectly. Hopefully he wouldn’t see through my trick.
With a sigh she finally gave in. “Fine, if you think it’s necessary. You helped me earn those caps anyway, so you get to decide how we spend part of them.”
“Ninety caps,” the salespony stated flatly. Cascade had a mixture of annoyance and smugness on her face as my bluff failed.
“Can I have a look at it first?” The exterior didn’t look impeccable, so I had reason to suspect the interior wasn’t in perfect condition either. If I could point out some flaws, I could maybe knock the price down a little.
“Sure, but don’t be expectin’ me to give it up for free just because there’s a scratch or two on the finish.” Turning around, he grabbed the rifle in his muzzle and placed it in front of me.
Immediately, it glowed red, and within two dozen seconds it was fully disassembled. Some of the screws were a little rusty and ended up taking a bit more effort to remove. I put them on the side, as they weren’t nearly damaged enough to warrant a large reduction in price. Looking down the barrel, I noticed it was full of carbon residue; hadn’t been cleaned in a while, despite having seen use. Everywhere on the rifle I looked, I spotted signs of heavy usage with little to no maintenance. Of course, nothing that I couldn’t fix if I worked my magic—literal and metaphorical. For obvious reasons, I would keep this information from the earth pony trying to charge ninety caps for it.
As I listed every single flaw with the weapon, I watched his smirk slowly fade, until his smug expression had completely been wiped from his face. I finished my tirade with a flat “Forty caps.” Those were all nitpicks, but there were so many that I was able to spot that they ended up seeming like overwhelming flaws.
He reluctantly agreed, then went back to trading with Cascade while I moved out of sight and polished each piece individually, casting the more complex repair spell on each part, my horn slowly getting tired as I put the rifle back in shape. I doubted the vendor would change his mind on the transaction if he found out I had restored it with such ease, but I was afraid he might get his mood soured and give Cascade worse deals on each future item.
Eventually, their conversation drew to a halt as she ran out of objects to sell, and ended up buying a large stock of preserved food and almost-safe-to-drink water. The only things she hadn’t sold were a few bottles of liquor, of which she claimed they were worth much more than the few caps he was offering. I wasn’t done with fixing the gun, but it would have to wait until later today when we settled down for the night. Swiftly putting the weapon back together—the previously-rusty screws now slid in seamlessly—I came back to the front of his shop.
“Before we leave… did you by chance see a lavender-pink mare around these parts? Her pink mane looks like a candy cane with a white stripe in it. She looks a bit like the Ministry of Morale mare on those old posters, just with a different shade of pink.” I paused for a second, and before he had the chance to answer, I added, “This may sound weird, but in case you haven’t seen her alive, have you seen her corpse getting dragged by, I dunno, a ghoul?” I didn’t like how I phrased that. Emotions were definitely getting to me.
"Ah don't think so," he replied with no hesitation at first. Then, realisation spread on his face right as he uttered that last word. "Well… Ah did see Airdrop carryin’ somethin' pink the other day. Dunno if it was your mare or somethin' else entirely; mah eyesight ain’t what it used to be. In either case, you should go ask him, he pretty much knows about everything happenin’ in town."
"Where can we find him?" inquired Cascade.
"South o’ here, in front o’ Angel's Park. He renovated an old buildin’ with defences and everythin’. It's hard to miss, really."
We thanked him and went on our way. After we were out of earshot, Cascade sputtered, "I didn't know you were this good with guns! I didn't even know that some of these parts had names!"
I felt a cocky grin spread on my face. "Well yeah, my cutie mark is a rifle, I'd expect to know a thing or two about them," I boastfully replied.
"Wait, huh? Didn’t you say—Oh, did you forget about your cutie mark, too?"
"Apparently so. It's weird thinking back; how could I forget about the thing I like the most?" Thinking back, coming up with that little song reminded me a little bit of how handling a firearm felt. In a way, it had felt right, much more so than when I’d experimented with music back in the stable. I’d just never been the creative type; maybe my father’s treatment had crushed the flame of imagination in me?
"I wonder what my cutie mark will be," Cascade pondered, drawing me out of my thoughts. I wanted to give her a few suggestions, but I had no idea where to start, especially for a wasteland orphan. What was it with orphans in the wasteland anyway? Stupid question. She shook her head and continued, dismissing her previous statement, "I probably shouldn't worry about that. I'll get it eventually, and it's not worth doing anything that could endanger my life just to find out."
We fell quiet, both engrossed in our own thoughts, as I led us towards Airdrop's home. My PipBuck had analysed the instructions and automatically placed a marker where his building was. Or should it be 'automagically', since PipBuck's use spell matrices? I shook that silly thought out of my head as we trotted onwards.
Eventually, we reached the park. True to the vendor’s word, a building immediately stood out, surrounded by barbed wire on the front side. I suspected the back of the building was similarly protected, though the fence didn’t extend to the space between buildings. Wouldn’t have been much use anyway.
As we approached it, I was able to recognise some turrets—similar to Stockpile’s, just in larger quantities—appearing on my EFS as white bars. All of the lower windows were boarded up, even the few whose glass hadn’t shattered in all these years. Near the top of the tower, though, most were clear. Likely he uses those as vantage points. The only exceptions being the few windows blocked by metal plates, with only a circular hole in the middle. Cover, with a gap to shoot through, I guessed.
In front of the gate—covered with razor wire at the top—was a bell, underneath a sign that read. “Airdrop’s home and postal office. Deposit packages along with payment in the mailbox. Ring if I’m needed. No solicitors.” Underneath it, a smaller sign read, “The courier is in.” The mailbox in question was a tube leading through the fence and into a metal footlocker.
Hesitant, I wrapped the bell’s handle in my telekinesis and rang it twice. After a few moments, a male voice called out from the upper windows. “Gimme a bit, I’ll be there in a second.” About a minute later, he emerged from the seventh storey’s, circling down until he landed on the other side of the gate. “What can I do for you? I’m still taking a break from deliveries for a few days, but as usual caps might convince me to get back to work sooner.” His accent and manner of speech sounded familiar, but in the moment I couldn’t place where from.
“We’re not here for a delivery.” He raised an eyebrow, then seemed to have a small realisation but kept quiet. A part of me was convinced he was trying to hide that feeling, but that didn’t make any sense. “About eight days ago, I was separated from my friend. I think she’s dead, but can’t be sure. When I asked one of the locals, he told me he’d seen you carrying something that could have been her corpse, a few days ago.”
“Was your friend pink?” I had a horrible, gut wrenching feeling of wrongness overtake me. Like somepony had grabbed my innards in their telekinesis and squeezed. It took all my mental strength to not vomit right then.
“Yes?” I replied, voice much meeker than I’d intended.
“Then yes. I threw her corpse into a river.” He what?
“You did what? She deserved a proper burial!” My voice cracked as my tone rose, anger flaring.
“Yeah? Well you shoulda given her one.” I wanted to rebut, but what would it bring? I ought to shoot him instead. No, that was a bad idea, too. The turrets would rip me—and probably Cascade as well—to shreds the moment I opened fire. Possibly even before, if their algorithms were anything like my PipBuck’s. While I was stuck in thought, he continued, “A lot of ponies die around these parts. It’s a side gig for me to get rid of the corpses before they attract undesirable creatures.”
Besides, what would killing him even bring? It would vent my anger right now, but afterwards Candy would still be… gone. With that thought, my anger was swept away by sadness. She really was dead. I felt my eyes fill with tears as my mind struggled to accept this new reality. I’d give anything to have her back. To have her hug me and tell me everything would be alright.
But no, she wouldn’t be able to do that. Not now, or ever again. Everything wasn’t going to be alright. Breaking into sobs, I started running. I didn’t care where. If I stayed here, I might just get myself ripped apart.
Footnote:
New Perk: Intense Training — Having failed to kill you, your time in the Equestrian wasteland has made you stronger. You permanently gain one point in your END score.
Perk refreshed: Teleportation I — You’ve figured out how to teleport small objects to and away from yourself. Unlike a normal teleportation, you are not limited by your END score. Instead the normal magic limits apply.
Author's Notes:
Phewee was this chapter hard to write. The base idea was “Iron is hit with amnesia, meets Cascade, then they find out Candy is dead 4realzies”, but I was suuuuuuper hesitant on the execution. I had no idea where to go with it. In the end, I ended up splitting this chapter in two for impact. The next chapter should be way shorter, I might even possibly pull a sub-5k chapter. (future sapphie here; the chapter isn’t even complete or edited and it’s already 7.5k words)
As usual: huge thanks to my pre-reader/co-author, SnakeEye, and my editor, EverfreePony
Chapter 10 — Wrong
Wrong
Taking another sip of wine, I turned back towards Cascade. "You sure you don't want some?"
She shook her head. "I don't get how you can even stomach this stuff. And I'd still rather sell it than have you drink it." I shrugged. More for me.
"I dunno, I used to hate it too when I was a foal, now I'm used to it, and it's pretty good. Though it doesn't taste nearly as good as what I—or rather my host, I should say—drank in that memory orb," I replied, finally starting to feel less gloomy.
Raising an eyebrow, she questioned, "The memory… orb?"
"Yeah, some pre-war spell talisman thingy. You focus your magic on it and poof, you're somewhere else. I'd show you one as an example, but they were in my old saddlebags." I made an exaggerated frown, then took another sip from the bottle.
As Cascade didn’t say anything back, I continued, "You know what we should try to find? A proper wine glass. I saw a few when we were rummaging around, but you told me they weren't worth anything, so I didn't bother taking them, and now I'm thinking that we shoulda taken them because drinking straight out of the bottle isn't as refined." Before she had the chance to reply, I added, "Come to think of it, I smashed a few glasses the night Candy died."
Her voice hesitant, Cascade asked, "But… why?" She needed to relax!
"Because I got drunk and started breaking everything!" I laughed heartily. "Was the most fun I've ever had. I thrashed that entire fucking mansion! Threw chairs against a glass table, flipped every piece of furniture, et cetera! But I fucked up my leg when I bucked a door too hard." Lifting the wine to my lips, I said, "Sucks that this place doesn't have anything." In fact, the room was mostly empty save for a few mattresses. Before drinking, I'd figured it would be a nice place to spend the night, but now I regretted the lack of destructible things.
"We should find somewhere cooler to sleep, somewhere I can break something."
"I would prefer to stay here," rebutted Cascade. "And I'd also prefer it if you kept your tone down." She was starting to sound… annoyed? Uptight idiot.
"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine," I whined—quietly, of course. "But why though?"
"Because somepony—or worse, something—could find us if you keep half-shouting," she hissed.
"Somepony? I can't think of anyone I can't take! I can just shoot them if they come." An amazing idea crossed my mind. "Wooaaaaah!" I shouted. "You know what we should do? Find some raiders or bandits, then use them for target practice!"
"No!" she half-whispered, half-yelled. "What could possibly make you think that's a good idea!?"
"Weeeeeeeeell," I began, unbothered by her outburst, "I'm thinkin'... If simple destruction is so much fun already, then violent murder must be soooo much cooler!"
Cascade stared at me in shock, and I returned her gaze, grinning. Eventually, she seemed to calm down enough to say something. "You really shouldn't drink this much. Joking about killing somepony isn't funny."
Right. Murder wasn't supposed to be fun. In fact, it was very much looked down on. Why did I think saying that was a good idea? She must have noticed my expression, as her gaze softened, and she told me, "Sorry, didn't mean to be so harsh, but maybe it's best if you put the bottle away."
"Uuuugh, I guess you're right. Last time I drank the full bottle, I ended up losing my memory for like a week. But it's so much fuuuun."
"Well, it's also… It's weird to see. Not even an hour ago you were still sobbing, and now you're laughing like you don't have a worry in the world."
"Well, duh, why do you think I drink?"
She blinked. "Huh?"
"I dunno, when I'm drunk, I just forget about the sad stuff. Well, I guess I don't forget-forget about it, but it just doesn't make me as sad. The fun stuff is even more fun, too. I learned that much when I got drunk by accident the first time. Too bad my sense of balance goes to shit, or I'd love to be drunk all the time!"
"That… sounds like an addiction waiting to happen."
"Don't be silly, alcohol isn't medicine, you can't get addicted to it," I confidently stated. "Many adults in the stable drank tons of the stuff and were fiiiiiiine." I was about to take another sip, but I caught myself, instead just trying to put the cork back in the bottle. "Makes me wonder how this stuff was made. Or I guess 'is made' in general, because it's probably still possible to produce."
Cascade rolled her eyes and gave me a half-smile. "You talk a lot when you drink, and it’s harder to understand you with how much you slur your words," she said.
"Well, yeah! It's so much more fun. It's like the mental filter is completely gone, and I just say what I think, instead of ruminating on whether or not it's worth mentioning. I never thought talking to somepony could be entertaining!" A few moments later, what she said struck me. Offended, I gasped. “I’m not slurring my words! I’m enunciating them perfectly.”
“You just said ‘pewfectwy’,” she stated flatly. Whatever!
The evening went by with me rambling on about various topics, while she occasionally replied, usually to tell me to keep quiet, though sometimes she humoured my antics.
I eventually grew tired and lay down to call it a night. As my eyes grew heavy, my thoughts returned to Candy, and I cried myself to sleep. She’d never hug me again…
Sitting on the side of our shared mattress, I clicked away on my PipBuck. A few weeks ago, when leaving Manehattan, I'd decided to keep a journal in case I ever lose my memory again. The large shack we had spent the night in was illuminated by early morning daylight. I'd been so tired the night prior that I'd gone to bed without writing that day's entry first. Then again, it hadn’t been interesting in the slightest. There really weren't many things to do while walking through the desert-like wasteland west of Manehattan, and thus there wasn't much to write about either.
My first entry in the journal had been a vague plan for revenge. I'd formulated it while on the road, the day after speaking with Airdrop. I would spend a few weeks, months or perhaps longer finding a way to kill the alicorn that had taken the most important thing from me.
So far, the plan was simply to find ways to ‘get stronger at magic’, then ‘track her down’. As a first step, I'd decided to strengthen my telekinesis by lifting weights every day. Another measure was to stay away from Manehattan as well as the rest of northern Equestria. I needed to avoid this alicorn until I could kill her.
Thinking about what more I could write, I spotted Cascade's slumbering shape in the corner of my eye. Her side rose with each breath. When she wasn't awake, she was almost cute. I doubted I'd get romantic feelings for her even if she wasn't a frigid jerk to me half the time—why did she even stick around me if she disliked me this much? Truth be told, I didn't even know if I liked fillies that way. Did I even like colts? What did it even matter? Well, it wasn't like I had anything more interesting to think about at the moment.
In the stable, I'd known of and understood the idea of romantic relationships, but my mother had made it very clear from a young age that this was for common ponies only. Us elites had no business falling in love with somepony we weren't meant to marry.
Naturally, becoming a commoner had opened up this avenue of thought to me, though only through viewing all three of Arcane's memory orbs had my mind been encouraged to explore those ideas a bit more.
Romance books always seemed to imply that there was one perfect stallion or mare for everyone. Would there be one for me as well? As if to torture me, Candy's name immediately popped into my mind, and I was overcome with confusion, shame, and, most of all, sadness. While my feelings for her had clearly not been romantic in nature, she had been somepony whose side I never wanted to leave.
Thinking back, I'd clearly made her uncomfortable all these months ago with my one comment—when I told her I wouldn’t mind marrying her—and I now understood why. I wanted to sink into the ground, but that feeling was promptly swept away by the painful reminder that it didn't matter; I wouldn't ever see her again. She wouldn’t care about it, either. Forcing my thoughts away from this depressing subject matter, I decided to write a summary of my mental trip just now. It was hard remembering exactly where my mind had roamed, but I was making considerable progress.
Progress which was interrupted by five red bars blinking into existence on my EFS. Immediately, I lay down and quietly shook Cascade awake, placing a hoof on her muzzle. "Nyuh?" was all she mustered at first, but as she noticed my serious expression, she quickly sobered up when I shushed her. Packing my food back into my saddlebags and readying my rifle, I silently thanked her for her idea of picking a sleeping spot near the wall. We started moving towards the shack’s other door.
All too fast, they were already close enough for me to overhear their conversation. "The tracks are here since early this morning. Two ponies, small, presumably young," a female voice said. There was a break with only the sound of movement. "You go around; it's likely they're still here, but they could have left through the back door." Ponyfeathers. Or was it a male voice? I couldn’t tell. Not the moment, brain!
I tried coming up with an alternative plan. I could always stay close to the wall, wait for them to enter, then get a surprise SATS kill or two, then teleport us out, and while they would give chase, I’d get rid of the other two. I didn’t like this idea; it would lead us to being flanked from both sides, which wasn’t a great trade-off for a surprise attack or two. However, as two of the ponies outside ran around the cabin, I realised it was in my best interest to kill as many as I could before starting to run.
What shocked me was the stallion calling out through the window with a strangely soothing voice. “It’s okay, we’re here to save you, little ones.” Did he seriously think anypony would fall for that? Though, to my surprise, his bar switched to white for a few seconds as he spoke, before going back to red.
I was about to ignore him when I came up with a better idea. Moving away from Cascade, I motioned for her to stay still, then replied to the raider. “We’re scared, mister, there’s mean creatures out at night,” I said, taking a page out of Cascade’s book and sounding as pitiful and infantile as I could. On her face, I saw extreme confusion, though also the slightest smidge of pride for having taught me something.
I could hear him whispering to somepony next to him, “Told you they’re foals.” Then he raised his voice again, “I’m coming in, and we’ll get you to safety.” The fact that his marker turned white again almost made me want to trust him, but I knew better. Maybe the spell was detecting a change in his demeanor when he was pretending to be nice? Besides, all his buddies were red, and that meant killing them wasn’t wrong. Killing him would also not be wrong.
The door opened, and a silver earth pony buck stepped in. A moment later, I had already added another orifice to this head, shaped exactly like a twenty-two calibre bullet. Immediately after, a huge figure lunged over his corpse. Without hesitation, I slowed time to a crawl with the help of SATS. The large stallion was wearing a metal helmet that covered his entire head, as well as kevlar-reinforced leather barding. I knew that my rounds would not be enough to pierce through thick metal, so I queued two shots to his chest.
Wait, there’s probably a better way to do this. I cancelled both of them and aimed them at his right foreleg instead. He was moving awfully fast, even in slowed time, and I didn’t need to kill him to survive. Though of course I wanted to because I was a bloodthirsty maniac. Shut up, brain, not now. I released the spell, and two bullets hit his leg in slow motion.
Now, the unfortunate part was that this did not stop him in his tracks. As a matter of fact, it only made him slightly stumble. By the time the second shot had fired and the spell ended, he was much too close to me, and I was out of options. Shit.
The next thing I knew, I was slammed to the ground, a hoof the size of half my chest pinning me down. “Gotcha, bitch,” he—correction, she—said. I was tempted to try and grab my rifle again, but what good would it do? She would crush me. Wait, why hasn’t she killed me yet? Not that I was complaining; I enjoyed living. Shut it, brain. Why was I having those silly thoughts now of all times? I couldn’t even try to teleport away—the spell would try to teleport me and her, and she was definitely heavier than I could manage to bring along. It would simply fizzle.
Wait, if she hadn’t killed me, did that mean she wanted to hurt me instead? My mind started racing at all the different ways she could torture me. Cut my legs off. Break my horn. Skin me alive.
My panicking was suddenly interrupted by a gunshot. BLAM! The raider on top of me twitched. BLAM! She turned her head to the left. BLAM! Suddenly, she picked me up, and next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, before landing on a certain grey unicorn. My body erupted in pain, and I tried scrambling to my hooves, but by the time I’d gotten off Cascade, the raider mare had pinned us both to the ground. Then, the back door opened, and came in two more ponies. I noticed another one standing idly in the main door frame.
The mare on top of me growled at them, “Don’t just stand there, dumbfucks, get the chains and collar. And pick up the guns and hide them, you know that horners are a bitch to deal with.” The light blue unicorn walked across the room and disappeared from my field of view.
The olive green earth pony replied, “But she just killed Snowy!”
“So? I don’t give a fuck about your buckfriend. Pick up their shit already, we don’t have all day. We’ll talk about it later,” barked my captor.
Olive—I decided I would refer to her that way until I knew her name—groaned, but started walking around the room. Then, the unicorn came back, his green telekinesis levitating a chain and shackles which he quickly put on both my right legs. He then did the same for Cascade, who was mortified. “Boss? What do we do about her PipBuck?”
“It’ll sell quite well, but we need specialised tools to get it off, you idiot. Leave it be,” replied Boss, her voice still confusing me. Was she a mare or a stallion? Not. Important. Stop the useless thoughts, brain. Get me a plan out of here.
Meanwhile, the other pony walked around the room, presumably picking up our equipment, then she took our saddlebags from us. To my dismay, red liquid was seeping out of mine, though given the severity of our situation, I couldn’t muster much emotion at the loss of my wine. I hadn’t been very sad the past few days, so intoxication hadn’t been necessary anyway. And it’s not like I need to be drunk to have useless thoughts plague my brain at critical moments.
Afterwards, the unicorn came back, levitating a metallic… collar? “Uh, Bricks—I mean, Boss—which do I put it on?”
Bricks—fitting name—replied, “Do I really need to explain everything to you Luna-damn morons? Brown one, obviously. She seems more feisty and is probably worth less caps with all those scars anyway, so blowing her up won’t be as big a loss.” But I’m pink! Though of course, my fur was in fact brown from the dust and dirt. Didn’t mean I had to like it. Why am I thinking about this? This is the least of my worries at the moment!
The unicorn clicked the collar around my neck, and Bricks turned to Cascade and I. “In case you don’t know, that thing’s an explosive collar. You piss me off, your head takes a trip away from your body. So of course, when you get up, you’ll be nice and obedient, and walk out of this shack. Preferably without chatter or any other horseshit.” That could be a bluff, but given that I was already in chains, I doubted I would get far even if it was. Getting up, she attached the frontmost hoofcuff in the chain to her own right hind leg. Great, now escaping got even harder.
Unfortunately for me, the chains were so tightly clamped around my hooves that the teleportation spell would definitely pick them up as part of me. There had to be a way around this flaw, but I couldn’t exactly experiment while being watched closely by these raiders. I wanted to ask what they were going to do with us, but I didn’t want to risk their ire.
As we were getting ready to leave, I was ordered to take off my jumpsuit. I really didn't like leaving it behind, given that it was the last thing I still had that Candy had given me. If I survived this, I would come back for it, then get it repaired and fitted for my growing body. I didn’t dare ask why, but I suspected they didn’t want me to hide anything underneath it.
A few minutes of trotting on the dry dirt later, Olive said to Bricks, “By the way, Snowy was not my buckfriend, but I’m still pissed I lost him.”
“Yeah, so?” deadpanned Bricks.
“Well, I want to rough her up. Bitch has it coming.”
“Fuck, you’re such a retard.” Bricks sighed. “Look, I get it you’re new to the business, but you need to use your head sometimes. A half-dead slave sells for less than a healthy one, and especially when you’re starting out, you can’t just damage goods. Even more so when you’re sharing profits with others.” Come to think of it, she was extremely well-spoken for a raider, even with her constant swearing and anger issues.
“But there’s no way she’s worth a lot! She’s weak, old, and doesn’t even look good. There’s no way anypony would pay a lot for her. Her friend, on the other hoof, is young enough to be groomed into a perfect slave and seems healthy enough.” I looked at Cascade, whose horrified expression sent a chill down my spine. These ponies weren’t just raiders, they were slavers. I felt stupid for having needed so much time to come to that realisation.
“I said no, dipshit. That should be reason enough, because if I get pissed, I squash your skull like a melon. The other reason is that there’s more to a good slave than that, and you don’t know for sure if she wouldn’t sell well. I have been in this business much longer than you, and even I’m rarely completely sure. So shut your mouth and keep trotting,” she said dangerously.
I felt incredibly guilty for getting us into this mess. When leaving Manehattan, we’d had two options. Either head west-southwest towards New Appleloosa and Ponyville, southwest towards Dodge Junction and the desert surrounding it. Southeast was out of the question, given that it was where Fillydelphia could be found. South was Hoofington, and that even I knew to avoid it at all cost—I’d heard enough bad things about the region to form a healthy fear of it. North was out of the question as well, for alicorn-related reasons. Cascade wanted to head for Dodge Junction, while I really wanted to see the historic site of Ponyville, despite the threat of the town of Old Appleloosa. In the end, I’d insisted we would give the slaver town a wide berth, and she finally agreed. It turned out that said berth had not been wide enough.
Several hours later, I was ready to collapse from exhaustion, panting heavily and trying desperately to keep up with the group. Suddenly, the chain tugged on my leg. I was lagging behind, and I knew what this meant. I’d learned the hard way what slowing down the group led to.
I braced myself, and sure enough, the whip cracked and my back was lit on fire. Even when I was expecting it, the pain was still excruciating. If things went according to plan, I would pay him back thousandfold. Eyes filling with tears, I bit my lip, trying my hardest to not make a sound. I couldn't give him the satisfaction, and it would make my revenge even sweeter. Maybe I could even shoot his horn off when I got the opportunity.
For a short moment, I envied Cascade; she’d only gotten whipped once. One glance back at her, however, told me how utterly terrified she was. I felt bad for her and for thinking she had it better than me. Yeah, she’d been hurt less, but she wasn’t as strong as me. I needed to help her as soon as possible.
Thankfully, the flaming agony had gotten some adrenaline into my system, and the soreness in my legs couldn't begin to compare with what my back made me feel. It was then, to my big surprise, Bricks spoke up, "We should stop for the night." As two of the other slavers protested—the third looked pleased with the decision—she added, "Look, we won't get to Appleloosa today, and this little cunt might die on us if we keep pushing her. What's more precious to you, caps or a few hours of your life?" to which the olive earth pony and the blue unicorn reluctantly agreed. I briefly envied his coat colour; despite being light, the hue was pronounced enough to clearly shine through the dirt, unlike mine. Why am I still hung up on this?
Pushing aside that insignificant thought, I sighed in relief. Maybe I'd get to talk to Cascade a little while we rested. During the trip, I'd tried asking her if she was alright, but Blue had immediately yelled at me, threatening with his whip. Stars, how I wanted to kill him here and now. But I needed to wait a bit longer, at least until they all went to bed.
They started setting up camp. For them, a small tent was put up. I briefly wondered how Bricks would even fit in there. For us, a dirty blanket was laid out on the ground, about ten metres away. A stake was hammered into the dirt, and our chain attached to it. It was something I could simply pull out, though.
However, this added to my worry that only three of them would sleep while the fourth would stay on guard. Ideally, it would be Bricks. I needed to take her out before I even attempted to kill the other three, since even once I got a weapon, such small bores would just bruise her in head- on combat. I still needed to figure out the details of my plan. Them sleeping in a tent would make it a little bit more difficult, as it would make it harder to see them. Maybe I could use it to my advantage, though…
They cooked and ate a stew made from canned vegetables and, to my surprise, meat. Cascade and I got barely edible oatmeal. After the last of them had emptied his bowl, Bricks got their attention. Despite how far from us the group was, I could still understand her clearly. "We'll depart as soon as it's bright enough to see, so in roughly eleven hours, maybe sooner. We'll do four shifts. Bark gets the first three hours, Bones'll do three afterwards, then me, and finally…" she turned to Olive, "you'll do the rest. Good night."
Olive muttered under her breath, “Fucking dick still can’t remember my name…”
Luckily for her, Bricks was too far away to hear her. The large mare was lying down on the dirt. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I could only assume they were closed. So that’s why their tent is so tiny; she just sleeps outside of it.
This wasn't great, but it was also far from terrible. I would need to wait until she was woken up by… Bones. That's probably the most raider name I've heard since I left Four, fitting for the pony who spent the day whipping my back raw. The difficult part would probably be staying awake until then. Just in case, I could set an alarm and claim it was an accident, but I didn't like relying on it, since it might give away my plan.
Nevertheless, once Olive—I still didn't know her name, but apparently neither did Bricks—and Bark disappeared in the tent, I turned away and set an alarm seven hours from now, as a failsafe. Still, I needed to avoid falling asleep. Time passed slowly, and my eyelids were heavy. Luckily, my back was still hurt enough that I could focus on that. From time to time, I would roll to my other side and wince at the pain that spread in my back. This jolt of pain helped me stay awake when I was starting to get drowsy.
Bark mostly ignored me, but the look I could see on her face was that of regret. Eventually, the first shift ended, and Bones left the tent. Unlike his predecessor, not even thirty minutes into his shift, Bones got angry at me. Quiet as to not wake anypony up, he spat, "Would you stop fucking squirming? It's annoying!"
"Well, sorry that somepony whipped my back raw today. I can't fucking sleep like this," I retorted, imagining turning his head into paste. Oh, how I couldn’t wait.
"You want me to help you sleep? I'll knock you the fuck out and then you'll sleep juuuust fine," he threatened.
"You do that, then good luck surviving Bricks' anger, idiot." Provoking him was part of my new plan. If I got him to hit me, the adrenaline would wake me up further. And I really hated his guts, so talking back to him was cathartic.
He walked over to my blanket, towering over me. Then, with no warning, he bucked me in the ribs, and my eyes watered as I held back a yelp. "You'll regret talking shit tomorrow." And you won't, because you'll be dead by then, shithead. I really need to stop swearing so much, even when I'm just thinking. Brings me down to their level. He turned away again, on the lookout. Apparently, the shifts weren’t to just watch over Cascade and I, but for outside threats as well.
I took solace in the fact that he was just playing into my master plan. Though he didn’t give me much time to bask in my little semi-victory as he faced me again and said, “You’re just lucky I’m not into mares.”
The implications took me a few moments to process, but when I finally realised what he meant, my mind was drawn to… a certain part of my past. I swiftly bit my lip and pushed my thoughts elsewhere. “Oh hey, looks like this threat in particular worked,” said Bones. “You okay there, lil miss trauma?” Okay, good, keep being a piece of shit. Fantasising about ripping your head off is much better than thinking about my father—no! Shut up. Back to Bones and murdering him. I would cut open his stomach and rip out his innards one by one.
“So yeah, you better stop squirming and pissing me off, or I’m waking Bricks up and he’ll take care of you.” Wait, Bricks was a he? And somepony his size, it would hurt like—No! I don’t wanna think about it! But my mind wouldn’t stop, flashing memory after memory of my time in the stable. I forced myself to think about something else… Candy! No, that was bad, too. I could feel the tears welling up, and before they could start flowing, I turned on my other side, wincing at the pain in my back and side. Bones gave a low, sadistic laugh.
A part of me wanted to just let myself go right then and there… Just let myself sleep this off and deal with the consequences later. Tomorrow I’d feel better. I’d no longer be in pain, and I’d no longer think about those awful things. Or maybe I’d just get a short break. I could just give up, couldn’t I?
Well, no. If I let myself sleep now, I’d most likely die within a week or two from now. This was just walking. I’d have to work for entire days, if the conversations I’d overheard were correct. I would pass out from exhaustion and die. Then again… maybe dying would be a good relief from being whipped daily. And I wouldn’t have to think about all those bad things again—What am I thinking? Candy didn’t sacrifice herself so that I could just… let myself die.
All I needed to do was stay awake until Bricks’ shift, and I was doing a good job so far.
Eventually, after another three excruciatingly boring hours, the shift change finally happened, and Bones disappeared into the tent. I still needed to give him time to fall asleep. If I counted thirty to forty-five minutes, that would be perfect. I was finally nearing the end of this tunnel.
Surprising me yet again, Bricks whispered—just the fact that he could whisper was already a big shock—“Can’t sleep?” His tone was strikingly gentle and articulate. Or maybe I’m just imagining things out of pure exhaustion.
Naturally, I felt the need to snark back at the pony who could crush me with one hoof, “Surprisingly, it turns out it’s fairly difficult to fall asleep when your back has been whipped raw.” I regretted my words as they left my muzzle, though I hoped he would be reasonable and not, as he’d phrased it, break the merchandise.
He simply gave a quiet chuckle, dumbfounding me. “Yeah, sorry about that. Bones went a bit overboard. I can’t blame him, though. He’s pretty new to this. But I can see how you’d hate him for that.” What kind of raider is this guy?
“You might not, but I certainly can blame him.” Why am I making small talk with a raider? This has got to be the weirdest day of my life. Is he even a raider? At this point I don’t even know anymore.
“I suppose that’s fair.” “Suppose”? What kind of raider says “suppose”‽ “I wonder, do you hate me as well? I’d understand if you did, but from my end, it’s just business, and nothing personal.”
Of course I hate you, I thought, I want to kill you. But then it hit me, and I understood his reasoning. “I suppose I don’t hate you, but I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you to escape, or even for just a hoofful of caps.” And I will do the former.
“Oh, it’s rare I get a sensible response like that. Usually ponies yell that ‘of course they hate me’. I wasn’t expecting to have someone who understands me here.”
“I mean, you need to survive somehow. I can’t blame you for making caps the way you do, though I hope you’re prepared to face the consequences of your line of work.” This was the best way to subtly threaten him.
“Exactly!” He fell quiet for a few seconds. “Damn, it’s a shame I caught you as a slave. Having somepony as clear-headed as you would be amazing for my work.”
I could feel a smug grin on my face. “Heh, thanks. While we’re doing compliments, I’m surprised you’re so eloquent; you’ve definitely shattered my expectations.”
“Yeah. Apologies for the earlier display, by the way. Lowlives like them tend to be fairly… unappreciative of proper speech manners.” Now he was just showing off, but I could appreciate it nonetheless. It wasn’t anything impressive by stable standards, but for a wastelander, and especially a slaver, it very much was. He paced a little, presumably to add weight to his words. “I’ve only now realised I don’t know your name. Pray tell. I am Bricks, but I’m certain you’ve already figured that out.” Okay, too much of a good thing.
“I’m Bolt Action.” Soon after leaving Manehattan, I decided to pick up my new name. The reasons were varied. Part of it was that I wanted to no longer be reminded of my parents or the stable. Another was that I’d entered a new chapter in life, and it felt appropriate to leave behind that name. Yet another reason was that it made me stand out. Finally, it just made more sense with my current cutie mark—after all, many ponies adopted a new, more fitting name after they found their true calling in life.
“Well, Bolt Action, I wish I could have met you in more favourable circumstances. You seem like quite an interesting pony,” he admitted, scratching his chin.
“You know, you could always release me and take me under your wing.” He would likely not let me free Cascade. I would miss her, yes, but her presence was something I was willing to trade for my own freedom. I probably should feel a little bit more guilty when considering selling out my acquaintance for my own freedom. Or was she a friend? Not that it was relevant.
“I could, but I need to train my underlings. Besides, I cannot simply release slaves, no matter the personal gains. It would be… quite unprofessional,” he rebutted calmly.
“Wouldn’t it be a wise investment to hire somepony competent, like me, instead of those buffoons?” This hadn’t been my original plan, but if I managed to escape without having to fight four on one—especially given the size and toughness of one of them—that would be even better.
“Tempting, but no. I’m sorry, but useless as they may be, three of them is still deadlier than one of you. I don’t need another henchpony.”
In a mix of desperation and pride, I bluffed. Well, it’s not exactly a bluff since it’s backed by an actual plan. “In that case, I’ll just have to escape on my own.”
He walked over to me and leaned in. “Huh. You’re serious,” he said. “Interesting. If you told me about it, you likely don’t plan on escaping while nopony’s looking.” He tilted his head. “Which means your plan involves killing us. While I don’t think you would manage to do that, you probably do have an ace up your sleeve.” I couldn’t help but smirk some more. Stop that! “You know what? I’m nothing if not a betting stallion. Here’s my idea. If you manage to kill my underlings and keep me alive, I’ll partner up with you. I won’t let you, but if you put my life in actual danger, I’ll surrender without hesitation. Deal?”
Over the course of our conversation, he’d trotted away far enough that even though he was looking at me, I was comfortable making my move. I only had one shot, and I wouldn’t mess it up. I knew I could do this, I’d practiced more than enough. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped the collar around my neck in telekinesis, spreading my aura wherever I could touch. Lifting it away from me, I channeled a teleportation spell, focusing on the collar instead of myself.. Before he even understood what was happening, the collar reappeared around his armoured neck.
Victoriously, I snapped the detonator from his saddlebags. “Deal.”
“Alright, I’m glad we made that deal,” he said. “Glad… and impressed. Now what? You still need to kill my underlings.”
After taking the key from his neck, I undid my shackles and those of Cascade, who had awoken during the commotion. “We’re escaping. Hide behind that rock,” I said, pointing to a boulder next to the road, “and don’t make a sound.” She nodded and started trotting. With her back turned to me, I was able to notice the angry wounds from the whip. If that was how hers looked after just three or four lashings, how badly was I hurt?
Turning my attention away from her and back to the task at hoof, I opened his saddlebags and found… a grey box. By its looks, it reminded me of a weapon… just not a normal one. Picking up with my telekinesis, I could feel pent up magical energy inside, likely ready to power a talisman. I twirled it around—careful to not point the side that sort of looked like a barrel towards myself—and eventually found what looked like a trigger. Oddly enough, the built-in safety mechanism was a simple on-off switch—which for some reason had been left on.
I gave Bricks a confused look. “What? I just don’t like the smell of gunpowder.” So it was a replacement for a regular pistol.
There was only one way to be sure how to fire it. I aimed it at the tent and pressed what I presumed to be a trigger. Simultaneously, the gun glowed red and a square of plastic material burned away. Inside, a pony yelped in pain. It sounded much less painful than a bullet, much to my disappointment.
I swiftly ran over to the tent, eager to get to cover and take advantage of my EFS. Inside, the three of them were scrambling. That, I hoped, was enough to hide the sound of my own movement. It was three on one, after all.
I had no idea how many shots I still had. I certainly hoped more than one, or I would be in deep trouble. Finally, I heard the flap on the other side open. Hushed voices, and one of them started walking towards Bricks and the blanket, revolver in her muzzle. The other two seemed to stay behind cover. “Fuck, they’re gone! What happened, boss?” asked Bark.
Bricks ignored her.
Since she hadn't seen me yet, I took this opportunity to attack first, entering SATS to get a feeling for how quickly the weapon could fire. Surprisingly, I could fire up to a dozen shots with the box pistol. The twenty-six percent probability of hitting his head that the spell estimated wasn't good enough. Eighty three percent for his torso was much better however, so I queued all twelve shots there. Hopefully not all of them would be needed.
As I released the spell, the gun spit out a beam of red light, and the light brown mare seemed to glow in the same colour. As SATS fired the weapon a second time, the crimson shine intensified until consuming her entirely. Before long, all that remained of her was a pile of bright ash. Time returned to normal, and I couldn't help but be impressed by the magical firearm. So clean and efficient. Too bad I like it messy and bloody. Still, in a three on one scenario, I couldn't afford to complain about a gun being too effective.
I noticed a red bar moving behind me, and skipped around the corner to greet Olive with the help of SATS. I queued three shots at her head. All three beams connected, but she didn't melt into dust like her buddy. The flesh on her face had been badly burned, but that didn't prevent her from firing her pistol at me. Pain flared in my side, marginally worse than the bullet wound I'd received in Detrot. I panicked and repeatedly pulled the trigger, missing more than half my shots, but when I finally ran out of ammunition she lay at my hooves, immobile and absent from my EFS. I grabbed her gun in my aura. Nothing could beat good old combustion weaponry.
Wait, where's the other one? To my shock, he was already behind me. I spun around and lost my balance. As I fell, I saw Bones, levitating a shotgun in front of him. Before he had a chance to fire, I'd already teleported behind him, gun pressed to his horn. I pulled the trigger, feeling the unfamiliar recoil of the larger rounds. As the shot echoed through the cool night air, a delightfully sickening crack followed suit. Though it was entirely possible that I imagined it, given how loudly my ears were ringing.
He collapsed, screaming and clutching his horn's sharp stump. I picked up his shotgun and poked him in the side with it. "You know, you're lucky. If you'd come around the other side, I would have had to kill you instead of just incapacitating you." I was also lucky, as this meant that I would be able to whip him like he'd whipped me. Nay, tenfold. My original plan to repay him thousandfold seemed impractical.
"P-p-please, don't kill me!" he begged, voice breaking down into sobs at the end of his sentence. The smell of fresh urine filled the air, simultaneously grossing me out and making me chuckle.
"Are you dumb? I just said I wouldn't kill you. I'm not done with you," I stated flatly. The colder my tone, the more scared he would be.
I undid the whip from his light harness. "I wonder, for how much you seem to enjoy lashing others, have you ever been on the receiving end?" His eyes widened in fear as I channeled enough power into my telekinesis to make sure it would light up the area enough so he could see my face. If my hunch was correct, I was grinning like a crazy pony.
As he cowered before me, I got ready to finally take my revenge. The whip cracked and… hit me in my own back. I bit back any noise that would betray my mistake to my victim. Moving the whip away from myself, I tried again, and he yelped as the tip connected with his back. I chuckled, then hit him once more, and got another miserable squeak from him. The third time, all the stallion did was whimper. Oh, I get it. He was trying to deny me my fun—rather, my revenge.
The whip cracked and was brought down on his back hard enough to draw blood, which glistened beautifully in the light of my horn. I’m getting the hang of this. He muffled a scream, and before he had the opportunity to go quiet, I struck him again. This time, the stallion didn't manage to hold back his cry. "Music to my ears," I told him after my short laugh.
Bones lifted his head from between his hooves, eyes teary. "Fuck you!" he whined. I brought down the whip again, aiming for his head. As the tip struck him across the eye, he howled in pain, clutching his face.
I didn't hit him again immediately, wanting to savour the moment, giggling like a schoolfilly. His sudden bravado seemed to die out as he started sobbing. After a few moments, I got bored and brought down my wrath, to be rewarded with the most exquisite scream, which rekindled my guffaw.
I was about to repeat the motion when Cascade's shrill voice drew me out of my fun. "Bolt! Stop this!"
The heck does she want? Oh, I knew. "You'll get your turn soon. What do you say, fourty lashes each?" If I counted the times he'd whipped me, we'd each need to strike him sixty times if we wanted to repay him tenfold. I suspected it would get boring before that, but his suffering was just so… enjoyable for now.
It was then I realised I'd been ignoring Cascade who'd apparently been ranting while I was caught up in thought. "... plain cruel!" She looked at me, angry and expecting a response.
I shook my head. "Sorry, can you repeat all that? I'm not the most awake right now and had my head elsewhere." First shocked, then contemptful, her expression finally turned to annoyance. "Sorry, I've been up all night for our escape."
Offended, she gasped, then sighed and finally spoke up, "I said, you can't just whip him to death just for your revenge. I understand how much it hurt, but do you really want to stoop to his level? I mean, this is plain cruel."
"But I haven't paid him back tenfold yet," I whined with a pout.
"I don't care if you—you know what? If you hurt him again, I'll leave. You're a nice travel partner, but I want no part in this. If you want to… torture this buck, it's without me."
Why was she so bent on forgiving this guy? He'd hurt us both and deserved no pity. "Fine," I ceded, "I'm too tired to argue with you about this. We'll chain him up and decide what to do tomorrow."
Cascade gave a sigh of relief, and we attached the two stallions together. This way would hopefully prevent them from trying to rebel against us, if the threat of the explosive collar and guns didn't deter them enough already. We lay down in the tent, reclaiming our belongings and bandaging each other's backs, as well as my wound. The bullet hadn’t hit any important organs, barely scraping through muscle and out the other side, but stars, did it hurt. Finally, we were able to go to sleep.
Entering the settlement of New Appleloosa, I looked towards Cascade, who averted her gaze. Ever since the incident with Bones, five days ago, she’d been very cold towards me. At first, she had completely refused to talk to me, but after unchaining the two stallions and letting them walk free, the filly had finally confronted me.
It turned out Cascade really hadn’t liked my revenge, and especially not how much I’d enjoyed it. After realising I’d decided to spare both of them, she’d mellowed out a little, though I could tell I was on thin ice, especially since she’d overheard my conversation with Bricks. That didn’t matter anymore; the past was in the past, and if she wanted to stay upset about it, that was her choice, not mine. Still, I hope she gets over herself soon, it gets boring alone. Then again, I could always travel with Bricks…
The stallion had informed me that if I ever wanted to team up, he was available in Old Appleloosa. I’d refused the deal because Cascade didn’t like him, and because I didn’t know how trustworthy he was; I didn't like worrying about getting a bomb collar put around my neck.
I nodded at her, and we split up. I’d given all of our surplus weapons to my companion for her to sell, except the shotgun. She was to find more ammunition for that one. She didn’t want me around vendors, for she claimed that ever since I’d regained my memories, I’d lost my pitiful child look. She couldn’t explain what exactly it was, but she didn’t want me near her when she tried to barter. I didn’t mind, since that gave me some time to rest. On what had once been a playground, I sat down on a bench.
Though I had to admit, the way she’d looked at me still hurt. Nevermind, now I’m alone with my thoughts. So much for resting. The unique mix of confusion, contempt, and shock that had adorned her face would stick with me for a while. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I knew there was, but it pained me a lot more than it should. I’d been raised to be an overmare, there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with me!
No, denial would not get me anywhere. I couldn’t really understand why I was this way, but I knew for a fact that how much I enjoyed hurting others could not possibly be normal. Or maybe it was, and everypony else was just much better at suppressing those feelings? I would need to ask Cascade about it later. Maybe there were even books on the subject?
Still, even if that were the case—which seemed fairly likely, in hindsight—it still meant I had issues with self-restraint. When everything was calm, such as now, I had no problem thinking I wouldn’t ever do it again, but in the heat of the moment, it was much too easy to just slip into this mindset, especially after I’d already scored a kill. Once I started having fun, it was hard to get me to stop.
Wait, maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with me, and I was just… different? That theory seemed sound until I considered what Candy had told me about killing other ponies. Why was it always so fun to blow somepony’s brains out of their skull if it was so wrong? Maybe it was alright to enjoy killing somepony if it was necessary for my own survival? After all, Cascade had told me stealing to survive wasn’t wrong, despite my initial hunch. It had to be the same for murder, right? But if murder wasn’t wrong when done to survive, was it bad that I took pleasure in it? I mean, since it’s necessary, there’s no point denying myself some fun.
Wait a second—I’d never heard Candy tell me stealing was wrong, so how did I figure that out? It wasn’t exactly an obvious matter. This could only mean that amnesia-stricken me had a different thought process to my own, one that allowed me to understand morality.
I groaned. Why did my life have to be so complicated? What I’d give to be a normal stable filly. Or a normal wastelander, like the ponies living in Manehattan, or like… this stallion and his friend.
The reddish brown unicorn that had just entered my field of view wore some light armour as well as saddlebags. What really caught my eye was the rifle strapped to his back. Well, maybe it’s more of a carbine. As he came closer, I was able to make out more details. It was far from the varmint rifle I was so used to seeing; it was somewhat shorter, had a metal ribbon loop back around from the barrel, and had a much more intricate pair of iron sights. Most importantly, the magazine was much bigger, allowing for longer cartridges. Roughly two and a half, maybe three times longer. I didn’t know ammunition very well, so I didn’t have any good guesses for the type it required.
Still, a cartridge this big had to be better at getting through armour than what I currently used. As much as I didn’t like admitting it, neither of my guns were suited to taking down an armoured opponent like Bricks. The rifle simply lacked the punch, while the shotgun’s pellets were individually too small to have much of an impact. Slugs might fix that problem, but the firearm still wouldn’t be very accurate at longer distances. Not to mention, those were expensive and heavy.
Still; I couldn’t deny their effectiveness in close quarters, like I found myself in a few days ago. Maybe I didn’t need a new rifle, just better ammunition for my shotgun. What if I need to take out somepony from afar? It was then I realised that the metal ribbon was something I recognised from the Mechanical Marvels; a pipe to reuse the pressure from the gunpowder’s explosion. This was a semi-automatic, or possibly even fully automatic weapon! I definitely needed a gun like this if I wanted to survive the wasteland.
I needed this gun in particular; who knew how many slavers I would encounter prior to being able to finally get my horn on a beauty like her? Though stealing it from him would be difficult, as they had noticed me staring. Forcing myself to look away, I tried thinking up a plan. There was no way he wouldn’t notice if it just disappeared off his back. Maybe I could kill him for it? Even though it was wrong, I was just putting my own life and needs above that of others, wasn’t I? It wasn’t wrong if I needed this rifle to survive… right?
This brought another problem to the surface. How would I even go about ending him? It wasn’t like they wouldn’t notice me drawing my gun, and they had plenty of cover in the ancient playground.
Wait, what am I doing? Should I really be killing ponies for their guns? the part of me concerned with being normal protested, but I pushed those concerns aside. I needed this rifle if I wanted to ensure my survival. It didn’t matter if I was normal, if it meant getting to live.
Though I still needed to avoid getting myself killed by those two ponies. I was still exhausted from the wounds I’d sustained from the slavers—apparently, healing magic made one very tired. That would be counterproductive. While I was thinking about my options, a plan formed in my mind, out of desire to prove Cascade wrong.
Walking towards the strangers, I forced myself to think about Candy and how much I missed her. “H-hello,” I muttered. I would show her. I could be pathetic if I wanted to be! They would pity the heck out of me!
“Uh, hey,” began the unicorn stallion, obviously put off by my appearance. Good start.
Before he could continue, the mare next to him interrupted, “I’m sorry, but we don’t have anything we could afford to give you.”
“N-no, I don’t want anything physical. It’s just…” I lowered my gaze, “I got this rifle from my sister, and I don’t know how to use it properly.” I dug at the ground a little, trying to seem awkward. I was thankful for my tattered jumpsuit for covering my cutie mark—good thing I’d insisted we go back for the piece of clothing.
Unconvinced, the mare raised an eyebrow. “So? Can’t you just ask her?” Damn it, read between the lines, you heartless wench. I prayed to the stars that my annoyance wasn’t readable on my face.
“N-no… she died. S-she t-tried to p-protect me from a slaver and was thrown off a building in Manehattan, and all I could do was run away.” I now had genuine tears running down my face. My mother had told me the best way to sell a lie was to base it off the truth. Here, the lie was more believable than the truth. Who would believe a story about an evil alicorn anyway?
“Oh, sweet Celestia, I’m so sorry little one,” she said, hugging me. Even though she had nothing to do with him, the unwanted physical contact reminded me of my father, and I instinctively recoiled and cowered. As much as I hated this weak side of me, I was determined to use it. I whimpered. I badly wanted to shred her throat with buckshot, but I repressed my urges. Thankfully, the mare picked up on my body language and backed off. “Oh my, you poor thing. So young and yet…”
Her companion stepped in and looked me in the eyes. “Would you like me to teach you?” he asked.
Holding back my smile, I nodded. “P-please. I don’t know how long I’ll live if I don’t learn how to use it.”
He gave me a warm smile. “I’m Bullseye, by the way. What’s your name?”
I almost introduced myself by my new name, but decided against it, as it might rouse suspicion. “Iron Sonata.”
“Well, Iron Sonata, let’s find some trees to shoot at. It’s good that you’re a unicorn, ‘cause I have no idea how to aim properly using muzzleguns, but I can give you a lot of pointers for shooting with a horn.”
As we walked, the mare stayed next to me while Bullseye led the way. While she didn’t seem to be actively doubting me, she was still glancing at me occasionally. If I undid my rifle now, she would get suspicious, and things might not go according to plan.
Finally, after less than ten minutes, we arrived near a small patch of trees. Roughly fifty metres away from the closest trees, the stallion unharnessed his own firearm. “I can’t teach you to be a sniper, but I can show you the basics, and if you keep practicing, one day you might become as good as me. Just look.” He fired shot after shot of the semi-automatic rifle. His aura wasn’t very stable, and he wasn’t controlling the recoil very well.
Now was a good time to set my plan into motion. I levitated my gun off my back and slipped into SATS, queuing a shot at the back of his head, and one to the mare’s, and executed the spell. As the first bullet fired and hit him, killing the stallion instantly, her expression barely had time to change to shock as the spell switched targets, ending her life as swiftly as his. As time resumed its normal speed, both corpses fell to the ground.
Satisfied with my work, I took their belongings and walked back to the playground, where I spent time marvelling at the gun and looking through their saddlebags. As I’d suspected, the bullets it fired were the same size as the ones from my varmint rifle, but the cartridges as a whole were much bigger, containing several times more powder. Surely, this wouldn’t have too much issue penetrating light armour.
Piece by piece, I dismantled the rifle, at least as far as I could get without unscrewing anything; I preferred leaving that until later, when I knew I would have the time to put it back together. Inspecting the individual parts, I was able to recognise certain mechanisms I remembered drooling over—figuratively—when reading my firearms book. In hindsight, I regretted not looking into my pistol in the same way, since it likely had a similar system. Could I really be blamed that rifles were so much cooler than muzzleguns?
Cartridges were ejected and reloaded through gas operated direct impingement, meaning that the high pressure gas from the gunpowder’s explosion was directly used to push back the bolt carrier. Unfortunately, this way of doing things caused residue to accumulate in the receiver. Luckily, I enjoyed disassembling and cleaning guns enough that this wouldn’t become an issue. Rifles are so cool.
Just when I started inspecting the bolt, a white bar appeared on my EFS. I turned around to spot Cascade walking towards me.
She was screaming at me. “You murdered these two ponies‽ What the fuck is wrong with you‽” I thought she would be proud when I told her how I’d tricked them, instead she was just furious. I’d expected some backlash, given everything, but I’d assumed she would understand that I didn’t do this for fun.
“Didn’t you tell me I should look out for my survival? I needed this rifle!” I responded, partly matching her volume and tone. How dare she get mad at me?
She opened her mouth and yelled, “You…!” After a short silence, she lowered her tone, “You’re evil. I don’t know how I convinced myself that somepony with your moral compass could be anything but. I thought you were my best bet for surviving, but I think I’d rather die than spend another moment with you. You disgust me.”
As she walked away, I started after her. “Don’t follow me,” she snarled. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her in disbelief, petrified and unable to focus the cacophony of thoughts in my mind.
As she trotted towards the town, I was finally able to process what had just happened. Anger flared. How dare she? How dare she? I was going out of my way to ensure not just my survival, but also hers, and she just called me disgusting‽
Before I even realised it, I was already aiming down my varmint rifle. I aligned both iron sights with her head, and started pulling the trigger.
What was I doing? Killing her wouldn’t accomplish anything; at best it would vent my current rage, but it wouldn’t fix her thinking and change her mind.
Did that matter, though? She’d be gone, regardless of if I shot or not. I could win her back if I gave her time, and understood what she didn’t like about this situation. Though that would require effort. Why would I make an effort to win back a cold bitch that’s unwilling to discuss anything? No, Cascade was not worth my time, and she would die for it.
Isn’t killing wrong, though? was the thought that made me release the trigger. Candy would have been disappointed for me even considering this option. Stars, she might even disagree with my decision to kill Bullseye. What if that wasn’t the only solution to my equipment issue? Would that make my actions… wrong?
What did “wrong” even mean, here? Was it just another word for abnormal? But then, did that mean murder was alright as long as it wasn’t seen by anypony judgmental?
While I was thinking about this, Cascade had disappeared behind a building. This settles that, I supposed. Still, I wished I could understand the reason why killing somepony was “wrong”, but in the end, my best bet was to follow Candy’s advice. She’d been the kindest pony I knew.
Eventually, as my emotions cooled down, I was extremely glad that I hadn’t killed Cascade. Despite everything, I was sad she was gone. I would have felt even worse if I’d murdered her. Stars, what kind of shitty pony would shoot her friend because she made her angry? Just the reminder that I’d been a few millimetres from ending her life disgusted me.
Why was I so much more upset at the thought of killing somepony who’d deeply hurt me, but hadn’t felt a shred of remorse when murdering two completely innocent ponies, who just happened to be naïve enough to buy my act?
I found an abandoned shack and uncorked a bottle of wine.
Footnote:
New Perk: Lone Wanderer I — Who needs friends, anyway? When adventuring without a companion, you take 10% less damage and carry weight increases by 30.
Author's Notes:
First thing I should mention is that I’m taking liberties with the official MLP map, specifically with Appleloosa and Fillydelphia, to make them follow the Fallout Equestria lore. Maybe it’s a mistake, but I think it’s better this way.
I might as well mention the canonicity of PH in MT. It’s half-canon, in the sense that if the two stories are compatible, then sure, MT takes place in PH canon. However, I will not be making any active efforts to conform to Project Horizons’ canon. (If you haven’t read Project Horizons, don’t worry; I definitely won’t build on any of its plot points, just make small references here and there)
Also phew. Finally a chapter that shows off just how utterly horrible Bolt is. So far, most of her actions were understandable, but we finally got around to the truly evil shit she does and thinks. Also, surprisingly, Cascade didn’t die!
Post-note author’s note: As my editor pointed out, Iron/Bolt isn’t exactly evil, just misguided and mentally unstable, which leads to her making the wrong decision in a lot of situations. And this is pretty much exactly the type of evil I want to go for. The kind that, to anyone who bothers understanding her, isn’t evil. But to an outsider, she’s extremely easy to brush off as “just a bad pony”
As usual, huge thanks to my editor, Everfree Pony and my idea-bouncing-buddy, SnakeEye