“War. War never changes. In the brimstone hell of balefire bombs and radiation, the once pure lands of Equestria suffered more than anypony can think of over the most simple of sins: Greed. Greed over land, resources and lives brought the beautiful landscape to a premature end. Stories from beyond the Great War were lost as time and circumstances destroyed books and holotapes and, in the blink of an eye, thousands of years of knowledge was lost. But it wasn’t, as some has predicted, the end of the world, but just a new beginning. Over the decades after the End, scavengers put everything they had in line for just a bit of knowledge and some caps. Old tales were retold and, over the radio, songs from a better time overcame the harshness of the wasteland for a young buck that, with a guitar strapped on his back and a radio on his ear, roamed the earth to just survive, quite a feat in Equestrian Wasteland.”

Fallout: Equestria – Wicked

Chapter 1: Contractor

The hat… Okay. A nice smile and fierce eyes… Can I do that? The worried pony in the mirror, with sweat over his brows and a locked jaw tells me no. I whip the sweat with a free hoof and, again, focus myself into smiling. Don’t forget to breath, I keep repeating to myself over a simple mantra. That’s stupid, the little pony in my head screamed, you can’t forget how to breathe! – Yeah, sure. I’m flipping nuts here, hyperventilating is the less of my problems right now. Three knocks on the metal plate that served as makeshift door and the grumped voice at the other side made me shiver in anticipation, “Five more minutes, kid.”

This is it, my first show, the time of my life. Well, it’s just a pub in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a start nowadays. I bit the Sparkle-Cola bottle and took a single sip, the carrot taste embracing my tongue and cleaning my throat. The cords vibrated with a single, magical stroke, their melody striking hurtfully in my ears. Tuneless, I thought while correcting the cord with one more turn of the tuning peg. I floated the guitar over my head, its strap circling my neck, and I took a deep breath, focusing myself in the voices.

While the great majority of the voices were drunk, there were some ponies there waiting for a good song. I had to deliver to them, somehow, or I wouldn’t get paid… It’s not funny to wander with an empty stomach, as I fruitlessly did the whole week before. The voices silenced themselves as the lighting lowered, a spotlight, sure made by an unicorn, hovered the black stallion’s head with a deep voice. With a cleaning of his own throat, every pair of eyes turned its attention to where I would be in moments. I’m clearly not ready for this.

“Fillies and gentlecolts, welcome to tonight’s show here at Hooves’: Booze, girls, music? We have it all, right at yours. We’re with a new attraction tonight, but don’t mind his appearance, the kid’s got future. Come over here, Sharp Note, the night’s yours.” Oh Celestia, he was talking about me. Don’t forget to breath, I repeated again, and took my first steps into the spotlight. My knees trembled as I stopped close to the microphone, hovering it close to my mouth, trying to work out my first words for the public. And my first impression is destroyed by the feedback, nearly deafening me. I shook my head, “Sorry ‘bout that. Ahem—Well, I’m… Sharp Note… As Mr. Jackpot already introduced me and… shoot… Well, I’m not good at this, let my music talk for me.”

***    ***    ***

“You’re not the best we’ve ever had, but it was close enough.” He handled me the coin sack, which I rapidly opened up and started counting the caps. It was fast enough for me to be not comfortable with it. “Hey, this is less than we’ve combined!” He only chuckled and walked away, mumbling something about not being good enough for the full payment. I stood there for a little longer than a minute, holding myself to don’t just hit him with a table and get over with it. Not worth it, I took a deep breath and went down the stairs. I took my time while walking to the bar of the big establishment, many faces turning to me and the guitar strapped to my back, countless comments floating through the whole place and, uncomfortably, a lot of them about me. Sinking my head into the counter, a groan is heard while a cute mare with the nicest smile slides me a cup.

“You’re pretty good, sugarcube.” She tried comforting me, I just groaned again. “That’s a pretty nice guitar you have, you know?”

“Yeah… Pa’s.” She got me talking too easily with that smile… And the whiskey, strong stuff. I took another sip and leaned my face into my hooves, looking at her with my throat burning.  Her scarlet eyes were pretty against her gray fur, and white bangs of her mane dropped in front of her face, the rest of it wrapped into a ponytail. “It’s a pre-war relic, actually. He always told me stories from beyond the crapsack world we’re in now, how this one guitar made so many ponies fascinated with its music. I’m just… you know... keeping the legend alive.”

“That’s pretty nice of you.” Again with the comforting. Was I so bad that I needed that many pats in the back? I drank the thought out of my mind. In the corner of my eye, a mare with a longcoat approached me, her face partially hidden by the tip of her hat. She put the five caps of the whiskey into the counter as she sit beside me. A huge uncomforting silence overtook the once friendly conversation until the barkeeper made her way to another costumer. Only then her voice reached my ears:

“You put up with a nice show, sir...”

“Sharp Note.” I complemented her. “I introduced myself at the start.” I threw a look that represented the whole lack of respect that I’ve felt at that moment at her. She didn’t notice. I fail, hard, at intimidation.

“It comes to my attention that this guitar of yours is in a great state,” her voice came out not much louder than whispers, and I had to curve my head in her direction just to make sense out of them, “and my contractor is interested into buying it. How mu—“

“Not for sale. Don’t bother asking.” I faced her, taking another sip. She pulled back a little, giving me a look onto her face before hiding herself again. Her eyes were… startlingly lifeless. I took another sip before resting the cup. She cleaned her throat before continuing.

“I’m sure my contractor will be pleasured with a… particular show of yours, even without the guitar in his possession.” She kept talking, showing another coin sack that by the look of it was full of caps, under the longcoat, strapped into her saddle. A shiny revolver too made its appearance, making me shiver. “You’ll be rewarded accordingly.”

“I’m… without choices, eh.” I pushed the counter, making myself on my hooves and I took another deep breath. What a night, I thought while taking my steps to the exit. The pony in my head was screaming for me to run, to save myself. I knew that I was going to die at that rate, but what could I do? That revolver looked pretty much accurate, as she would accurately put a bullet in my head. This is Haygas, what should I expect? Damn dumb idea of mine. Through the cracked asphalt, my hoofsteps echoed into the dark night, the nearly burned neon sign over the Hooves’ poorly illuminating my path while she followed me closely, guiding me with her own steps. I have to think fast. I’m not fast, that’s one, or strong, too. A weapon? I never had the money, Pa’s never taught me how to shoot, too.

Damn, he was a pretty good shooter, I’m sure he’d get out of this situation just fine. “Fuck… Why?” She didn’t quite understood my question, as no answer came. I made myself clearer: “Why are you doing this?” I heard chuckling behind me.

“My contractor wants the—“

“Cut out with the bullshit. Why are you going to kill me?” I hope this was clear enough.

“Kill you?” She chuckled a little more. That was getting on my nerves. “Why would I want to do that?”

… What?

“As I was saying, my contractor wants the guitar… Or, pretty much, every pre-war instrument. He’s a collector, and we need someone with the necessary knowledge to maintain those instruments. As you’re not going to depart from your guitar—“

“So you’re not going to kill me.”

“As I said earlier, no.”

“And you’re really going to pay me to just… play?” This was too good to be true.

“And, again… yes.”

I think it was expected that she would take a step back after I nearly jumped of raw happiness. Then I saw how strange I would look to her and tried to retain myself, clearing my throat and, with shame, extended my hoof for her to move along.  Awkward was certainly the right word to describe how I was feeling at that moment, even more when we got closer to the de facto gateway for The Saddle, the real point that made Haygas what it was. While still in Equestria territory, for some reason it wasn’t hit directly by any balefire bomb, some say it was the work of Mr. Hoof, the sole owner of the Clover casi—

“Here, take thish.” She interrupted my internal monologue with some kind of wallet in her mouth. I was baffled. She shook her head and spit it at my direction and, in shock, I stopped it mid-air to simply not hit me in the muzzle. “It’s your passport.”

“Wait, how do you want me to walk through The Saddle? What about those Securiponies?” I looked over her, to the five strange-looking robotic ponies over the gateway. Their legs were somehow bolted together into a single wheel, their faces replaced by a huge monitor with a Royal Guard face always turned at our direction. They were rather unsettling, but it was the machine guns strapped into their battle saddles that made me worry.

“That’s why you need the passport. Just behave and follow me.” She trotted calmly into their domain, defying those five behemoths of weaponry and lethality and, with the whirl of their machine guns, they focused their aims over the poor longcoated pony and… nodded, opening the gate and greeting her with an absurdly high voice. “WELCOME, MS. SPARKLE! WE HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAY!”

Sparkle? Like that… ministry or something? I’ve heard of that name earlier. A poster of some kind, I think. There were still many pre-war posters over every big settlement, and Haygas was pretty much intact, so it should be easy to find something like that. Sure, the only place of Haygas that I’ve went to was the Freeside, nothing quite intact over here. Following my… guide’s steps, I kept walking. The Securiponies, again, flared their machine guns, the noise by itself making me shiver and close my eyes for the impending shootout and…

“WELCOME, MS. RARITY! YOU LOOK WONDERFUL TODAY!”

…What?

It was understandable that complete silence again overtook our words while we crossed The Saddle, the shower of lighting and the sudden appearance of so many drunken ponies having the times of their lives and… I really should refrain myself from using this sentence, it’s getting dull.

The crossing of The Saddle was really turbulent, at least three good-looking ponies with stuck-up clothes bumped into me, only one of them noticing it and apologizing sluggishly. That’s why I don’t drink, I laughed to myself.

“We’re here.” She stated, finally looking up to the nice little sign written in what looked like blood. I was disgusted at the sight, but crossed the double doors anyway. The whole place smelled like cheap alcohol and sweat, it shouldn’t be the place for a mare with a sack so full. Some of the ponies, mostly earth ponies, clearly didn’t like the look on my face, as they kept staring at me while she verified her room with the griffon bartender. The purple-furred hoof signaled me to follow her, so I did.

The room wasn’t that bad, at least the smell was better. Two beds, muffled by time and use, were kept over each corner of the small room, each with its own corner table. The room was illuminated by three sources of light: Two lampshades and a ceiling lamp. I unsaddled my guitar and, carefully, propped it against one of the corners, taking out my own coat and I just threw myself into the beaten-up mattress, took a deep breath and, finally, relaxed.

So I heard a click, my ear twitched and my heart stopped. From the corner of my eye, the silver barrel of the revolver was clearly visible, and its working side pointed at my temple. It’s unnecessary to say how high I jumped, dropping like a bag of potatoes into the wood floor. She laughed, amused by my reaction, and uncocked the revolver.

“What was that for?!” I screamed, with reason.

“You must never be unprepared, foalish pony,” She chuckled, taking off her own clothing while speaking like a teacher to her students. “For the risks of the wasteland are many.”

“And, for that, you need to give me a heart attack?!” I kept screaming.

“Again, it’s your own fault that you’re so startled.” She sat in her bed. I recomposed myself and, while staring at her with pure anger burning in my eyes, I returned to my relaxed position. She chugged a Sparkle-Cola from her own belongings and restarted the whole conversation. “You don’t look like a wanderer, but you’re clearly not from here either,” I just nodded. “Where are you from?”

I leaned my head into the not-so-confortable-but-good-enough pillow and looked at the ceiling, the old beige paint peeling off in cracks that ran through the walls and reached the strong-looking wood floor. “I’m from a place really far from here, from the other side of the country. Have you heard of The Republic?” She nodded, her eyes, for some reason, really far from here. “Not a bad place, you know, but it was too boring. I decided ‘Hey, why not?’, took my father’s guitar and… here I am…”

Before she could question the veracity of my story, I flipped to her side and looked at her, her beautiful black mane spread on the bed as she dropped lazily onto it. Quite a look, sure, but it wasn’t time to appreciate it: “What about you? I don’t even know your name or your contractor’s. What is it?”

She didn’t looked confortable while thinking about an answer. “I guess it’s the right thing to do, we’re gonna stay a lot of time together… I’m Stargaze.”

Wait. “What’s that ‘stay a lot of time together’? I thought it would be a simple show, wouldn’t it be?”

“Sure, it is. Over Tenpony Tower.”

Oh, come on! It took me a week of pure random luck to just get here, and she wants me to go back? I moved my hooves in protest, punching the air a few times while trying to formulate something to contest that to no avail. “Well… Okay then.”

My nerves finally settled in after agreeing with the huge trip, tonight’s show catching up with my tiredness and, yawning, I turned off my lampshade and flipped to the wall. “Well, Stargaze, I’m… tired. Good night.”

________________________________________

Footnote:

Tagged Skills: Repair, Barter, Sneak

Trait Added: Good-Natured (You studied less-combative skills as you were growing up. Your combat skills are 10% worse than usual, but your other skills are 15% better.)

Lvl. 1

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