Fallout Equestria: Salvage

By Rollem Bones

Chapter 2: You and Me and the Bottle Makes Three
“The best way to find out if you can trust somepony is to trust them.”

Everypony knows about Sparkle-Cola. Everypony I have ever met, at least. What is left of their billboards line the old skyways, looming testaments to the old world. Not to mention that most of the time, it’s a damn sight better for your health than the water. So ubiquitous is Sparkle-Cola that we use the old bottle caps as trade fodder. I never truly thought about or considered the drink before, one of those things we all take for granted when it always seems to be around. When I think about how we all live here in Equestria, taking a soda for granted is saying quite a lot for the stuff.

Yet, for all of me, I was still surprised when I found a unicorn with a bottle of sparking Sparkle-Cola for a cutie mark.

“I didn’t think anypony would find this place, much less stick around,” the unicorn mused to herself while she watched me greedily guzzle the soda she gave me. It was freezing, an honest to goodness ice cold Sparkle-Cola. Truly, that bottle was a wonder of wonders.

I sighed with a happiness I hadn’t had since, well, before my house was torched. I guess almost being on fire makes a stallion thirsty. “Thank you. Especially for the part where you didn’t kill me,” I forced a laugh, thankfully I’m good at that, and got a look at my savior. She was silver, but her mane was what caught my attention. It was an electric blue color and stuck straight up, like a brush. The raider like style seemed to clash with the rest of her visual aesthete, being a pair of glasses perched askew on her muzzle, and a lab coat.

“What are you looking at?” she had caught me watching. Her eyes narrowed. I felt like I parasprite under a looking glass.

“How does it stay up?”

She snapped from her scrutiny, blinking at me. “What?” Her attention followed the track of my eyes. “Oh, my mane? Wonderglue.” Okay, so there was plenty of the stuff around, I had pawned it off on Summer more than a few times in the past, and I even used it to fix a few things here and there. A mane care product, however, it was not. I think she caught my questioning look as she quickly fumbled to amend, “I dilute it, it isn’t so dangerous as it looks. How do you think the raiders do it?”

“Blood, mud, and probably a few other fluids I’d rather not contemplate.” My response was met with little more than a look of abject disgust. Still, I consider it a success. I shifted to a friendlier gear. “Name’s Call, and thanks again for the hoof up.”

“Fizadora Tonic. You aren’t a threat to my work, so I would not in good conscious kill you.” I was a little insulted at being thought so little of, but given her tone, I’ll take being considered a threat over being dead.

“Uh, thanks,” I mustered up as a weak comment, but I was talking to her flank anyway. She had started going back to those three immaculate vending machines. “You mind if I just call you Fizzy. Fizadora is a bit of a mouthful.”

“If you want,” the unicorn said with a shrug that told me I probably could have called her anything and it would not have mattered. She was looking at the side of one of the machines, where I’d opened it earlier. “Did you open these?”

Crap. I really hoped this would not end with me stabbing somepony so soon after the last. “Yes. I didn’t know anyone was using this place. They looked so fine I hoped I’d just gotten lucky.” The truth rarely set me free in my experience, but she had me dead to rights. That and she gave me a drink so I figured I owed her that much.

“You really think so?” she asked. She looked at me with eyes the size of dinner plates. “I did my best with these ones. I had to scrap a few dozen around here, and trade for a bunch of scrap electronics off this wandering caravan. Just got it done yesterday, hooked it up to a spark generator I pieced together. I always loved Sparkle-Cola, and I wanted to get a feel for what it must have been like back in the old days. Did you know that the properties found in Sparkle-Cola are some of the hardiest in the entirety of the Equestrian wastes? I mean, the reinforced terminals are great and all, and a lot of this tech is in surprisingly good condition given the circumstances but with a little effervescence and some proper care, Sparkle-Cola is just as good now as it was then. At least that’s what that ghoul told me when I had him try one of my batches. I don’t think he had reason to lie to me, there was little he could gain from it. What do you think? You tried it. You sucked it right down. Was it good?”

I blinked, dumbfounded. This girl could ramble. I had to take a moment to recover from the verbal deluge. “It was cold?” No, that was not a good start, but it got my engines running, “It was amazing. It had the sweet taste of carrots and a bit of tingling bubble. All with no lingering after taste and yes, ice cold.” I looked to her and threw up a smile with the same hopes I would a shield.

The unicorn came at me like a shot. “Good,” she said, jabbing me in the breast with a fore hoof. “Because I made it that way, you won’t get any other like it in the wasteland. Which means you owe me.” She huffed in a way that made haughty insufficient as she turned and marched back to her machines. I thought she was checking them again, but she was just getting some bags, floating them to rest against her flanks. “I’m cleaning out the top floor today. You can assist me.”

A healing potion floated to me as she trotted by. I took it and drank it down. The dull ache of my internal injuries faded. “Thank you. Again,” I said for the fresh relief, but she was already through the lobby door. “Is she always like this?” I asked the machine as I cantered off after the unicorn.

“So what’s Haystack?” I asked Fizzy, walking behind her; it was either read her lab coat or watch her flank. I tried my best to divvy up my attention between both in equal measure. Only one of them was an open avenue of conversation.

Her response was a stonewall, “No idea.” It was also a lie. The answer was too quick, it came out nearly the same time I finished my sentence. Mechanical wiz or not, Fizzy Tonic was no liar.

“Okay, okay, let me rephrase that for you,” I pushed, “That’s a lab coat, I’ve seen them before. I can tell by looking that Haystack wasn’t put on there as some decoration. You’re good with technology. I think this Haystack is where you’re from. So why don’t you just admit it?”

Fizz turned around a little faster than I expected. We collided. Being the gentlestallion that I am, I opted to nearly fall and snap my neck. She looked at me, here eyes wide and searching for something. I waited for the inevitable admission as her eyes darted back and forth over me.

“W-well, I could say the same thing about you!” she snapped. I was taken aback; this was not how it was supposed to go. “Why don’t you tell me about your stable?” My what now? It was my turn to follow the direction of her eyes. The broken PipBuck. I had forgotten about that.

“I bought it off a trader. I don’t even know how to use one of these things. Even if I did, it’s busted anyways. It’s an inert accessory for all I care.” She wasn’t about to turn this around on me.

“The same goes for my jacket. Except for the broken part.” She turned it around on me. Literally in this case, and started back up the stairs.

“Okay then, good to know.” Good job, Call, good job. I really impressed her, didn’t I? I still had questions, and I knew this girl had plenty to hide. I was still certain that she was lying through her teeth, her attempt at defense was bad enough to tell me that much. I just had to play my cards smart with her. For the time being, I shut up and stuck behind her. This time I watched her flank. No questions there.

The second floor wasn’t a whole lot different from the first. We walked among rows of desolate desks, most of them in surprisingly good condition, but all of them utterly empty. There were a few terminals left over form the war, but every one we passed died a long, long time ago. The most damning thing of all was just how clean it all was. The whole floor was spotless. Desks, drawers, those little corners that no one really cares about, everything was immaculate. It was as though the whole office was just waiting to pick back up again after a years long vacation.

“This all seem a little off to you?” I asked Fizzy. The unicorn was looking at a terminal, the silvery glow of her magic working at the electronics. She didn’t seem to hear me. “Fizz?”

“”Hold on, I need to concentrate if I’m going to get this thing back to life.” Her dismissal was annoying, but I could deal with. I started to explore the rest of the floor and found the hall was just as clean as the first office. Photographs of ponies and places lined the walls. I took time to look at them and their subjects. A group of ponies, a pegasi, an earth pony, and a unicorn in front of a large building, I assumed it was this one. The next was the same group in safety gear, standing inside a massive factory with incredible machinery around them. The last one was a pair of pegasi standing in front of a Sparkle-Cola billboard. They all looked happy. I found myself lost in the old world for a time, keeping the company of ghosts from the past.

“Remember, employees, a clean office is a happy office!” A tin voice cracked and popped from the other room, yanking me from my ruminations on the dead. I crouched, moved slowly along the wall to the door that led into the next room. I didn’t dare call for Fizzy lest I catch the attention whatever it was haunting this floor.

A moment later and I didn’t have to. Fizzy came walking in from the other room. She was scowling, her ears were flat, and I think I saw a little twitch in her right eye. “Stupid weak fucking power converters,” she groused, “Stupid damn mother. . .” she went silent when I stuck my hoof in front of her mouth and nodded to the open door.

“Remember, employees, to always dispose of all of your refuse in our brand new Incino-Tron chute!” The voice went off again. I leaned my head around the corner. Fizzy leaned in just under me. Both of us sighed with synchronized relief.

The source of the voice was a Mr. Hoof. It was painted pale lavender. The robot floated away from us, bobbing in shallow raises and dips as it went. Fizzy and I slipped into the room, side by side. I spoke in a whisper, “Seems harmless.”

“They all do until it tries to shove a saw in your eye.”

It was a good point, but it wasn’t one we could act on. The robot had turned around on its patrol. Its eye stalk aimed right at the two of us and it began to putter in our direction. “Greetings employees! Are you ready for a Sparkle-tastic day?” it spoke in its all too cheery for our own good voice, “Please hold still for facial identification.”

I was ready to run. I didn’t have any weapons beyond Sharp Retort, and it never did fare well against robots. Fizzy stopped me with a well-planted hoof in my side. I bucked, the wind escaping me. “What was that for?” I wheezed like a dying balloon.

“Hold still,” Fizzy spoke from the side of her muzzle, giving a fake grin to the floating robot.

“Facial pattern not recognized,” the robot announced. “You must be new employees! Please state the authorization code. If the code is incorrect, please remain where you are, someone will be here to vaporize you shortly.”

I froze, counting the seconds until I took a saw in the eye. It was a good run while it lasted.

“Sparkle-Cola is magic.” I gave Fizzy a look. I knew the girl was a little too into this soda, but I couldn’t help but wonder if those were what she really wanted to be her final words.

“Password accepted. Welcome New Employees, to Sparkle-Cola Company, West Manehattan Facility! Please remember to use the appropriate Incino-Tron chute for all your refuse needs” The robot played a garbled fanfare. Then it simply turned and floated away.

Fizzy must have caught my look utter disbelief. “They’re all the same. It’s not the first one I’ve run into,” she gave as an answer, shrugging as she walked, leaving me to sit there and puzzle again.

“Okay, okay,” I said, following the mare, shaking my head. “What’s with the cola obsession? You clearly have something going on here. Something has lead you to enough places that you know how their robots work. What exactly are we looking for here?”

Fizzy stopped for a moment, turning her head to follow my approach. “I’m looking for a terminal, a particular one with particular information on it. That’s all. I just need you in case something attacks me. You are some kind of scavenger, are you not?”

“Salvager. I am a salvager,” I corrected her in a firm tone, “I’m bringing back the forgotten, braving the dangers of the wastes in order to make life a bit easier for other ponies” I held my head high and pranced my way past the unicorn.

“Bullshit.”

I stopped, my hoof tapped on the floor. I slowly turned my head to look back at the unicorn. She was trying her hoof at another terminal. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked in the most forced cheer I could possibly muster.

“Bullshit,” again answered with a casual discarding of my statement. Only this time she decided to step on the apple core of my opinion. “Call it what you want, but you’re just scavenging and hawking for your own profit. Don’t try and tell me you have a higher reason for it.”

Fizzy was right, and it hurt that she was right. Still, I couldn’t exactly show her that now, could I. I stormed toward her, head down and my eyes holding a look that I could only hope was steely enough. “So what is it that you call what you’re doing?”

The unicorn looked to me from the broken terminal, stopping her magical manipulation of the aging technology. “I’m trying to fix a terminal.” She spoke in that tone of voice you generally reserve for the particularly slow foals in the class.

I snorted. If she was going to be like that, I wasn’t going to help her out. “Good fucking luck on your own,” I told her in a low growl. With that, I took my leave of her, heading back toward the stairs. I wasn’t going to stick around that place to get insulted and talked down to.

I got halfway through the lobby before she caught up to me. She was calling my name, and so help me Luna, I stopped. Even worse for my dramatic sulk, I turned around. She stood with her head and tail drooped, giving me a sad look. They were big eyes, too. Really big eyes. Curse my ill luck. I found myself taking a seat, waiting to hear what she wanted. That I was listening didn’t spare her from having to endure my angry look. I wasn’t being manipulated so easily. Yeah, and I have the deed to Bucklyn Cross in my saddlebags.

When Fizzy spoke, it was quiet. By the look on her face, it was a difficult thing for her to come back down here. “I,” she paused a moment, I just waited, “I’m sorry, okay? I,” She looked at the floor, the ceiling, her vending machines, anything and everything but me. Incoming excuse, be ready for it. “I don’t always say the right things.”

The admission threw me off base. I thought about what she said for a moment, I also looked back at her. I have always prided myself on being a good judge of ponies. I have traveled, I have met many, I have entertained many. I have the job experience for the position. I had a lot I could have said there. I had a lot I wanted to say there. This was one of those times I just had to shut up and play things right. I just sighed, smiled, and started back toward the stairs with little more than a, “Thanks.”

I don’t think she realized I had caught her sag in relief as I trod by. Keeping my smile inward, I headed back upstairs. Momentary smugness aside, I had bigger problems to think about than my own self-satisfaction. This filly was proud, and it took something to force her down here to apologize to me. I had no idea why or for what function she could need me for in this case, but I was getting increasingly suspicious of her as we saw more of the Sparkle-Cola Company, West Manehattan Facility.

“Well now what?” I asked Fizzy. We were in front of the door leading to the third floor offices. “Do you have any way to get in there?” I watched her as she eyeballed the lock, seemingly trying to will it open. “Lockpicks? Magic? Small explosive device?” The look Fizzy gave me told me my curiosity was unappreciated.

“I can’t,” the unicorn said, looking to the side and shrugging. Her face scrunched as she thought, and then looked back down the stairwell behind us. “But,” she started, rolling back to look at me and my querying expression. “I need you to talk to the robot.”

Turns out I can go from querying to puzzled in a nanosecond. “Um, Fizzy, you do know that it’s hard to fast talk a machine,” I pointed out the obvious. Down below, the janitorial robot shouted some inane platitude about cleanliness and Celestia. “Especially a robot with an obsessive cleaning program.”

Fizzy just sighed and shook her head. Clearly my logic wasn’t winning her over. “No, no, listen,” she told me, “Just see if it can go clean the upper floors. If it thinks you’re an employee, maybe you can just tell it to go upstairs. If it does, we follow, we’re in. Locks be thrice damned.”

I had to admit, it seemed a solid plan. I relented via nod and headed back down the stairs to find the cleaning robot. Sure enough, it was trying to pick up a bottlecap with a dustpan attachment. All it managed to do was push the cap a little bit farther along. I found it endearing in a pathetic sort of way.

The hovering robot turned around from its bottle cap retrieval duties when I addressed it. Its eyestalk pointed at me and I gave it my widest grin. “Hey there, mister janitor, I was wondering, you do a bang up job down here but the upstairs is a little messy could you maybe,” I nodded my head toward the stairway, “Just bobble on up there to give it a once-over?”

“Negative.” Well, shit, there goes that plan. “I am not the assigned cleaning drone for the Sparkle-Cola Company, West Manehattan Facility, third floor. I am the assigned drone for the Sparkle-Cola Distribution Center, West Manehattan Facility, second floor. Therefore, I may not leave the designated area in order to fulfill request: ‘once-over’.” The robot hovered in front of me, silent. In some way it seemed to share in the awkwardness of the moment as it added, “Is there anything else that I may do for you, employee number not found?”

Fizzy was sneaking up behind the automaton. The faint haze of her telekinetic magic surrounded something at the back of the robot. We exchanged nods and I swung into a pitch. “Well that’s a shame; I guess I’ll just be going then.” I turned and stopped mid step. “Actually,” back to the robot, pause for affect, “I am new here, after all. Could you run by the company cleanliness policy one more time?”

Up until that point in my life, I was unaware just how happy a machine could be. Up until that point in my life, I was also unaware of just how long winded a machine could be. I found myself buried under a verbal mountain of policies, regiments, clauses, sub clauses, parameters, and sub sub clauses. The whole time I just nodded, smiled, did that little affirmative grunt and the thoughtful hum as I let the instruction wash over me like the buzzing of a million parasprites.

Then it stopped. I blinked as I emerged from the spell of the hypnotically droning drone. In quiet awe at the sudden, blissful silence. “Fizzy?” I asked, “Am I still alive, or did Sparkle-Cola perfect a sonic weapon and shove it in a janitorial robot?”

“Both,” said the unicorn as she closed the backplate of the cleaning robot. “Mister Hoof, go open the door to the third floor please.” She spoke like an instructor, stepping by me with her head held high, smug little grin on her while the reprogrammed bot bobbled by after. The whole look somewhat diminished by her mane and the fact her glasses were still askew.

The robot made its way to the top floor. The problem of the lock was solved through the subtle magic of the circular saw. Better the door than my eye. When the lock fell out, the robot, Mister Hoof, pushed its way in. Once in, it immediately began to clean. Thankfully, it was silent this time. A little gift from Fizzy.

The third floor was made up of offices for the managerial staff. It was not as clean as the lower floor, with papers strewn about, old books rotted with age, leaking pipes and dim lighting. For the most part, however, things were still intact. The sound of the groaning, strained ceiling was disconcerting, though. I did not trust the place to remain standing if much were to happen here.

Fizzy and I separated, taking opposite sides of the hall. The first room I dug through felt like a tomb. A diorama of time gone by, there was a desk, a burnt out terminal, some old filing cabinets that had nothing more than paperwork that disintegrated as soon as I looked at it. Sitting at the desk was the skeleton of a pegasus. A coffee cup tipped on its side sat next to the pony’s skull. I looked at it for a moment and wondered if it were one of the pegasi in the pictures I saw downstairs. I sat there and mourned a pony I would never know, though in my mind I imagined that he or she at least got the chance to enjoy one last cup of coffee before the end of the world.

The door to the next office was barred. I managed to shove it open, pushing the heavy filing cabinets away from the door. I expected the worst, but it seemed that the cabinet had only fallen. The room was empty and without a skeletal resident, much less somber than the first. I managed to root out about a clip worth of ammunition for a ten millimeter. I stuffed the clip into my saddlebags to trade later. I also bothered to take a small toy Sparkle-Cola truck from the desk as a souvenir. All of my stuff had been burnt to ash after all and I figured that I needed to start somewhere.

Venturing into the third office, I dug through the cabinets, scrounged through the drawers. All I could find were a trio of Sparkle-Cola bottles, one of them radish flavor. I was a little parched from all that talking, so I popped open the Sparkle-Cola classic for a drink as I rummaged about. It was piss warm, but it hit the spot. That’s when I saw it, the faint green glow of an operating terminal. I finished my drink, left my bottle on the desk, and called out to Fizzy.

It was password protected, and I was no good with those things, but Fizzy cracked its shell with ease. I felt a pang or two of jealousy as she pulled up the files she could salvage. All while reading over her shoulder, of course.

Entry #267

Went to dinner with the R&D colts from Salt Lick City. We went over the quantities of sugar put into the latest batch of cola. They think they have some kind of substitute they drummed up in their labs that could replace what we use now. It’s supposed to be sweeter than the sugar we already use. Frankly, I just don’t get it. How could it be sweeter than sugar already is? Sugar is sugar. Sugar will always be sugar. They hinge their argument that when they get the formula up and running, it will be cheaper than real sugar, too! I may not understand how they can make it sweeter, but I can understand cheaper.

Entry #270

Tried the new batch of arcane sweetener today. I passed around a sample to the others. It works, somehow. Sky High thinks it has a funny aftertaste, but five out of six ain’t bad. I pushed along a memo giving our take on this stuff. I can see a bright future ahead of us. This stuff could really fly out here, and if you can make it in Manehattan, you can make it anywhere.

Entry #289

Turns out the arcane sweetener has a little magical radioactivity issue. Of course, this falls onto my back. They even sent along one of the bottles from our new radish line. The damn thing glows! Fuck me sideways with a rake. This is going to be a PR disaster! I need to figure a way around this. We cannot afford a recall this late in the quarter. Now that I think about it. Radishes, radiation. Rad. I think I could work with something here.

“Nothing?” I asked Fizzy. She nodded in the affirmative. “All interesting, but none of it was what I need. There’s still one more, though. Check that and then that’s it.” She seemed disappointed, her eyes and ears downcast and drooped as she slunk out to the hall. I took the glowing Sparkle-Cola from the saddlebag and mumbled around it to get her attention. She caught my toss with a magic field and managed to fake a smile at least.

Defeatism aside, we still wandered into the last office in the hall. It must have been some bigwig’s place. It was twice or three times the size of the others. The pictures on the wall were stained and impossible to interpret though, so I couldn’t reminisce again. There was a desk here, larger and sturdier than the others I had seen, made of a solid wood that took on the ages with a hearty laugh it seemed. Fizzy headed straight for the terminal while I dug about the file cabinets, walls, and generally poked my nose into places for anything worth salvaging.

By the little squeal of delight that Fizzy made, I assumed we were in business. I slipped over to see what was going on and was confronted by a screen full of symbols and letters. “Figs,” the unicorn groused, her magic adjusted her glasses as she studied the screen. “This is pretty heavily encrypted. It might take a while for me to do this. You mind waiting?”

“Let me check my schedule. Seems I’m empty this whole lifetime, I think I can squeeze in a wait,” I snickered and returned to my rooting for goods. I managed to find a well-preserved carrot cake, more surprising was that I managed to eat it. They really did build things to last back before the apocalypse, I just wonder if they truly had to ascribe that ethic to their food as well.

Time ticked on and Fizzy kept ticking at the terminal. The Mister Hoof janitorial drone had started cleaning the office, hovering about and sweeping the floors. I had found a preserved book and was keeping myself interested through the wonders of dramatic reading.

“Can’t you see them hurrying, hurrying – puffing and blowing and hooting to their other mechanical affairs? Something out of gear in every case,” I waved a hoof dramatically, looking up to my imaginary mark, “And swish, bang, rattle, swish! Just as they are fumbling over it, swish comes the heat ray, and, behold! Pony has come into its own.” I turned around to end my speech on a dramatic note when I found myself staring face to brain in a jar with a robopony.

The searing light burned my neck as I bolted from the machine. “Fizzy, Fizzy!” I shouted to the unicorn still at the nearby desk, ignoring the world for her hacking needs. I ducked, narrowly avoiding the next beam shot in my direction. The shot reduced an old pile of magazines to dust. My neck felt bitterly cold, it hurt like hell, and I didn’t want to be hit by that thing again.

“Friendship is a warm glow!” the robopony spoke in a mechanical voice that I can only describe as cracked. “I want to give it to you. Please hold still.” It trundled after me, firing beam after beam as I ran a small circuit around the room.

Fizzy just hummed thoughtfully, pecking away at her keyboard while I was trying to avoid having my ass burned off by a mental robopony and it was being followed by the Mister Hoof who was trying to clean up the ashen mess left behind by the stray beam gun fire. “Anytime now!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I felt another searing ray graze my side. I seethed in pain, fell, and rolled to a stop.

The robopony rolled over to me. “Friend acquired,” it spoke to me. I took my chance and threw myself upward, scrambled for my life as another beam nearly turned my head into powder. I clung, forehooves wrapped around the braincase of the robopony. “Locating new friend,” the thing announced, and started its forward tread anew.

Apparently, this one had trouble realizing what was behind it. My grin was somewhere in the territory of wicked when I took Sharp Retort into my mouth. With a muffled cry of war, I began to beat down on the robopony’s brain jar. Only to be met by a resonant clunking sound and a painful throb to join the collection I had started building up. The robopony begin to emit an alarm and started bucking around. Couldn’t see me, maybe, but it sure knew I was around now. I continue to brutally assault the dome, and through it my teeth, in hopes of piercing the solid dome.

Clank, clank, clank! Blow after blow I rained down on the robopony and it just wouldn’t stop. It fired beams into the walls, into the floor, at one point nearly searing the terminal Fizzy was working on. Her response was to shout at me. My head was pounding, the burns I had gotten felt like cold fire. “Just! Die! Already!” I shouted through gritted teeth, punctuating my pounds. Then, it cracked, I had gotten through. I had also gotten the Sharp Retort stuck in the thing’s dome. Worse, it wasn’t deep enough to pierce the brain that operated the robopony.

I was finally thrown ass over end off the mechanical pony when it started to spin in tighter and tighter circles. I hit the ground, hard. My hardhat bounced off my head and clattered to a bookshelf. I lay sprawled for a moment, making sense of where up and down were. It was just long enough to feel another beam lance into my side. I wanted to shout to Fizz for sitting there and just working on that damn computer, but could only manage a wordless yowl of incredible pain.

“I just want to give you the welcome you deserve,” the robopony squawked and giggled as it bore down on me.

Fuck this, I said to myself, it’s going down. I rolled away from another blast and got onto my hooves. I dashed another circuit around the office. I took up the heaviest thing I could get my teeth on as I rounded on the beam-spewing bastard. I reared up, put everything I had behind me, and brought my improvised weapon down on top of Sharp Retort. With a crack and a crash, the dome shattered. The ooze, viscous and pungent, splashed around and onto me. Sharp Retort had skewered the brain and lay on the floor, a reeking shish kebob. The metal body of the pony stood still. I stood panting. A spat my bludgeon on the floor. A book titled, “Making Weapons Work for You!” stared back at me. I pocketed it, and cleaned the brain off Sharp Retort. I’d have to do some reading later, as the poster said, “Reading is magic”.

Fizzy cheered. I looked proud despite my burnt, tired, and sticky self, and trotted over toward her, head held high.

“The password was Entitlement!”

My head dropped. I scowled. It was as if she hadn’t just seen me in a brawl to the death with particularly persistent metal death machine. “Oh gee,” my voice dripped sarcasm, “I hope you didn’t strain a brain muscle there. I’m going to go curl up and die now, let me know when you’re done.”

I didn’t get the chance to leave this time as a floating healing potion crossed my path. “Thanks,” Fizzy told me, and I didn’t want to believe it, but I could tell she was being genuine. I took the potion and sucked it down. The feeling of relief was warm and intoxicating. My burns healed up, the seared marks on my side faded. It even got rid of the headache brought on by using Sharp Retort a little too eagerly. I hated that little potion for taking away my perfectly justifiable bad mood.

“Come here, come here,” Fizzy waved a hoof, drawing me around to look at the terminal. “This is what I’ve been hunting for. I think I owe you this much.” She caught the look on my face. “Okay, so I owe you a ton, I know, I’ll make good on it, I promise.”

I sighed, accepting the IOU at face value. Besides, I was interested in what I just risked my life to get. She scooted aside to let me see while she floated a map out onto the desk. My jaw struck the floor with the force of a jackhammer.

“Soda?” I asked. “Soda!” I shouted. “You used me? You used me and threw me in the face of death for some soda!” I was irate, I was furious, I was a little impressed, but mostly I was wrapped in such a sense of utter disbelief it consumed me. I roared at her, loudly venting my frustration and aggravation at her. “Not even soda itself. Information about where to get soda. Theoretical soda. Soda in potentia!”

She shrunk away from me. I don’t blame her, I could imagine I came off as a bit scary. I’m bigger than her, for one, and I did just manage to beat a robot to death with a book. “I know, I know.” She was afraid, I could tell, but my eye was twitching and I was angry, I didn’t care. Yet the unicorn didn’t back down. She looked at me as firmly as she had just this morning when we sat at the vending machines. “I used you. I figured there would be defenses and I couldn’t risk losing the information again.”

My furious panting slowed down. I leveled my eyes at her. “Continue,” I bid her through gritted teeth.

Fizadora searched for words. Hacking came easier to her, of that, I was certain. “It isn’t just soda though. It’s a shitload of soda.”

“Oh that makes it all better, why the fuck didn’t you say that before? That totally fucking changes everything.” I laid the derision on thick. My words made her wince.

“It’s a rare kind!” she snapped at me now. “You wouldn’t understand. I need it to help my home.” Her voice had dropped, and she sat down. She could hack a terminal without batting an eyelash while a fight rages around her, but the weight of a few words seemed to crush her. “I need it to help my family and friends.”

My rage had quelled. I joined her in sitting. I looked at her. She looked at the floor. I thought back to the other night. My last night at home. My last night having a home. I had listened to the DJ talk about that Stable Dweller. I had wondered about what I was doing. I could see the writing on the wall. I couldn’t help but laugh, “Well fuck me.”

“What?” Fizz’s words dripped acid.

I shook my head. “Not like that,” I told the unicorn. She didn’t seem to believe me. “Listen,” I started, amending, “Please. I don’t like being used, okay, but, but I’d like to give you a hoof if you’re looking to help some ponies out there.” Now she really looked like she didn’t believe me. With nowhere to backpedal, I charged forward. “I’ll watch your back. It’s safer out there in groups than alone. But,” I paused to direct my most stern look to her, “but you need to be honest with me. No more of this keeping me in the dark crap, okay?”

She thought it over a moment. “Okay,” she said, “You’re right. Traveling together will be more effective. I don’t need or care for most of this junk anyways. I’m only after what I need. You can claim the rest as sca-,” she caught herself and corrected, “salvage. I’m going to guess you’re better at dealing with traders than I am, anyways.”

I smiled, so the girl was a decent flatterer after all, I can take a compliment. I stood and shook myself off. “It’s already gotten dark outside,” I noted the obvious, wanting to fill the air with something, an emotional palate cleanser was needed.

“We’ll just make camp downstairs. Leave in the morning,” Fizz added, almost rote as she gathered up her map, levitating it into her saddlebags. She called after me as she caught up, “Oh, and do you know how to start a fire?”

There was no fire. Neither of us were awake long enough to make one anyway. The cold glow of the vending machines was our light. She slept over by them, I made use of the desk’s curve again. It was quiet, thankfully, and thanks to that healing potion, peaceful and without numbing pain. I had to make it last though. One thing I did find out about Fizadora Tonic was that she had given me her last two healing potions. Only one of them was to keep me going as her meat shield and robot distraction. The little time I was awake left me to think about things.

Morning came without a sound and considering the lack of windows in the lobby, without much light either. I woke with a start, having forgotten that I not only wasn’t at home, but I didn’t have one either. Shaking the sleep from my eyes, I checked on my newfound partner. She was still sleeping, and the fact she didn’t just steal my shit and take off made me happy.

I decided not to wake her. It wouldn’t do any good to have a groggy mare to prop up. At least, that was the reason I gave myself. For the most part, I just wanted to get a second dig around in the lower floors while I still had a chance.

Always check again is a standard rule in the world of salvaging, because you will never know what you missed the first time around. This time was no different. I must have been off of my game so soon after my escape from home. I picked through here, and there, gathering up a few electronics, some scrap metals, a whetstone, and a bottle of wonderglue. Not a bad haul, all considered. It could come in handy picking up caps when we were on the road. Celestia knows that I didn’t have any supplies, Fizzy had no healing potions, and I doubted how far the rest of her solo trip supplies would hold out.

That’s when I found it, the one thing I needed. A radio. It sat there, on a shelf, all streamlined and sitting pretty. I hoped to the highest and trotted over to give it a test. The music came out sweetly.

And now the foal’s a going, he’s a traveling all around
And now that foal’s a running, race the sun down to the ground
He’s got a little filly waiting down home with a tear drop in her eye
Cause her handsome foal has left her, gone somewhere out there to die.

I beamed as I listened to the tune. It worked. The damn thing worked. I added the radio to my stash, letting it play out as I headed back into the lobby. Listening in as DJ-Pon3 started up another story about the Stable Pony. If the Stable Pony could help Equestria, I could at least help a strange unicorn mare find some soda.

Fizzy was awake when I got back. She was waiting for me. The radio sticking out of my bag garnered a questioning look.

“Hey, it gets quiet out there, and how else are we going to listen to what’s going on out in the wastelands. You never know what could be happening out there,” I defended my choice of carrying a noisy box with me into dangerous territory. “Besides, we’ll be able to handle ourselves and the music will do us good.” I just kept on building verbal ramparts.

The unicorn only shrugged and gave me a nod. “You’re right.” Her grin took all the fun out of being defensive. “Besides, I like it, too. But . . .”

“But what?”

“When I get the chance to, I want to take a look at that PipBuck of yours. With the right parts, I could probably get it going again, or at least mechanically sound enough that we would only need an arcane matrix to get it booted.” Her answer rattled off her tongue, almost over my head, and caught my attention only to drive it forcefully down to the useless hunk on my foreleg.

“You really think you can get it to work?” I asked, “Well, sure thing then. If you can.” I headed to the exit of the lobby, setting a hoof at the door. “Have any other talents I should know about?” I chuckled, pushing open into the dull gray of the day.

There were two raiders across the street. One was wearing a battle saddle with a pair of long guns. The other carried the boxy form of a beam pistol in her teeth. Both of them right there, and thank Celestia neither of them noticed me close the door just as swiftly as I opened it.

“Problem?” Fizzy asked, her head tilting as she stepped up to the exit.

“Problem.”

“What kind?”

“Raider kind. Gun kind. Us being allergic to bullets and beams kind.”

Fizzy nodded slowly. “How far?” she asked with far more thought that I felt comfortable with.

I gave my best estimate, “About one street width away, give or take a sidewalk.”

“Open the door please.”

“What?”

“Please, Call. Just open the door. Trust me on this one.”

I sighed, said my goodbyes to life in my head, and shoved the door open. From the corner of my eye, I saw a small gray object that looked like an apple sail across the street. It landed, bounced once, and then the two raiders became raider salsa. Once again, the unicorn made my jaw drop.

“You have grenades!”

­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________

Level Up!
New Perk: Intense Training (Strength): Your Strength stat goes up by 1!

Based on lore created for Fallout: Equestria by Kkat
If you enjoy, please read the source material at http://www.equestriadaily.com/2011/04/story-fallout-equestria.html

If you enjoyed this, you may also like other FoE side projects, many of which can be found through Equestra Daily at http://www.equestriadaily.com/2011/06/fallout-equestria-side-stories.html?commentPage=1

Also check out the Ponychan group for more.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1KaoFWVlFlMjYR2KmTWxwCYnvTZQcjEULO9YHSaqqk9U/edit?hl=en_US#heading=h.83xcg7jma35i

Special thanks go out to Aerondight for the beta-read.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this fanwork.

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