Fallout Equestria: Salvage

By Rollem Bones

Chapter 3: We Gotta Get Outta This Place
“Did you ever have one of those days . . .?”

“Seriously. Grenades.” I cannot say I was upset with the latest discovery I had made regarding Fizadora Tonic. After all, the discovery did involve the sudden and violent removal of two ponies who were no doubt intending to be suddenly violent to us. I was shocked, though. She had weaponry that would have been very useful when I was desperately riding a psychotic metal pony of beam shooting death. Now that we had put the Sparkle-Cola office behind us and were well en route to getting out of Manehattan entirely, I felt the need to poke at this particular anthill.

“Did you miss the part where I was trying to not die for you? It turns out I really could have used something exploding there. Just putting that out there.” I am a stalwart bastion of maturity, I am.

Fizzy shook her head and threw a sigh at me like I was some school foal. “I wouldn’t,” was her only answer.

I was not exactly satisfied with that answer. Snorting, I looked away to bite on my tongue and take the moment to rethink my verbal strategy. “Okay, okay. I get your word games. Let me guess, you didn’t want to destroy the terminal, so you felt it was okay to let me get fried so you could find a who knows how old delivery notice?”

The unicorn stopped. There was hesitation lingering in her downcast eyes. “Yes and no,” she answered with the deliberation of a chess grandmaster. Since she was not picking up pace to get to me, I paused for her. “Fragmentation grenades would do little to a terminal such as the one in the office. At the same time, I was more worried with what my grenade would do to you instead of for you. At the same time, I was afraid to use my arcane static explosives because, as you said, afraid for the terminal. I couldn’t lose another shot at this. Please understand.”

Her point was valid, and logical. I found it a bit insulting, but at the same time I could appreciate not getting torn up from two directions. Now that time had passed, I couldn’t excuse myself to be irrationally angry, so my mood settled on pissy with a touch of appreciation for flavor. “Yeah, well, thanks for the two raiders.”

“I needed them dead as much as you did,” Fizzy pointed out, moving once again. I had not mentioned that on purpose, but of course she had to go point that out. “I do wonder why they were just camped out there. It seems awfully odd.”

“Well now that you mention it,” my constrained chuckle did little for my admittance than serve as a giant red flag, “You know when you found me? I had just been chased by a gang of raiders whose leader wants Curtain Call roasting on an open fire.” I coughed and gave my best Luna-may-care grin, trying to shrug off the fact I was most likely a walking dead pony. “They had just burned down my home. I barely escaped getting char grilled.”

There was that narrow-eyed look again. I was once more a parasprite under glass. “So yeah, I ain’t going home cause I don’t got a home to go to.” I laughed, loud, to throw the mare off. It was overacted enthusiasm, but I needed something to cover up the fact I really had nothing else to lose in the situation. It was either make it look like I was claiming this decision as my own, or prostrate myself and I just didn’t know her that well.

Fizzy heaved a sigh and looked skyward. “I have nothing to give, but you can salvage anything I don’t need. Besides,” she directed her attention back to me, “I have not met many ponies that would be willing to stick around after I threw them under a cart.”

“And those grenades of yours won’t do you much good if something gets up close.” I decided I should have a little extra incentive in the matter.

“There is that.” I swore Fizzy blushed, “I usually just try to make it a point to not let them get that close. A few primed proximity charges usually do the trick rather well.”

I nodded to Fizzy’s point. However, I slid into silence, my mind busy with the thought of just what kind of ordinance the unicorn was packing in those saddlebags of hers. She tacitly agreed to the self imposed silence and we walked onward through the aging graveyard of western Manehatten.

* * *

The rattle of the gunfire mimicked the bursting pulse of my heart as Fizzy and I ducked down below the overhang of a remnant floor in a bombed out shell of a building. The rounds burst overhead, cutting through the concrete and stucco, sending shards and clouds of particulate dust raining down upon us. I looked over the Fizzy, she was fumbling, her magic digging through her saddlebags in order to find a grenade, a stick of dynamite, something to hurl at the raiders that held us pinned down. I snorted, braced against the overturned pile of rubble and office supply that served as our front side shelter. A graveyard of a city and the ponies here all labored to add their others to the pile of dead.

“I got one! I need a sight, I need a sight!” Fizz was shouting, though I can’t say I heard much over the din. She could tell, most likely the dumbfounded look on my face, and signaled to me: hoof pointed at her eye and to the barricade. Without having anything else to contribute, I ventured a looksee.

Thank Celestia for my helmet. Just a ping and my head was jerked around like I just took a cart to the face. I spiraled, spun, and sprawled to the pavement. My head and ears rang with unneeded alarum. I think Fizzy shouted my name, but I couldn’t tell. Everything felt hot. I looked up at the gray cloud sky above. The dusty, dull yellow of my hard hat sat in the corner of my eye. I silently promised it a new coat of paint and polish if we made it out of this alive. It deserved as much.

I lay there and listen. Staccato cracks of automatic gunfire, a shriek from who knows what, the loud pop of a grenade are my only indicators of the combat going on around me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t will myself to motion as my body fell into the stiffening numbness that enveloped me. All I could see was the wall of the building, riddled with holes from firefights current and past. There was graffiti scrawled, nearly obliterated. NO GRAVE NO END, it read in large, steady writing; painted with a purpose that my fevered delirium strived to find yet failed to fathom. For all the battle around me, I could not pull myself from the words.

Three, four ticks and my body was peppered by spat up pavement. It didn’t hurt, but the strafe was close enough to snap my focus back to reality. Shit, I was still alive after all. I cursed some more as I twisted to my hooves, lunging to get my now well-dented helmet back on my head. Wasn’t going to leave it behind, not now.

Fizz was by the barricade, digging out another little apple shaped grenade, when I ducked down behind her. She let the explosive fly. Another pop as it went off. The fire from the other side ceased. We both paused, she looked back at me, and for a moment, a smile came to her muzzle. It lasted the briefest of moments; more fire from our assailants took reign of our attention.

“Stay here!” I shouted as a new stripe of holes was created in the wall behind us. “Send another bomb at them, I’m going in!”

I did not bother to wait to see if she heard me, charging forward, my head down. I am usually not one to adopt the brilliant tactic of running toward the bullets, but it seemed that this time it worked. The firing stopped as I ran. I didn’t have time to think of the why. It didn’t matter at any rate; the ringing explosion I heard told me enough.

The raiders were behind a wrecked pile of old carts and parts. It wasn’t a tall structure, but I was still surprised to see a pair of ponies vault it to come at me. An earth pony that held a knife in her teeth, the other a unicorn that floated a pistol with olive tinged magic.

Two shots rapid, neither aimed, but I felt the pressure as one glanced off my reinforced barding. Okay, time to focus on the gunslinger. I put my shoulder into the charge. He may have had the gun, but I had size and speed on him. He hit the cars with an audible thunk. His magic cut out and his gun clattered on the ground. His eyes spun; out of focus as his senses took a lunch break.

I ducked the mare’s wild flailing. She was all wild swings and hopeful stabs; a complete amateur. I ducked, weaved, under and around her as she threw her head back and forth. My head was ringing, my body aching, but I was running high, and I was better at this than she was. I spun around, got my front down and brought my rear hooves just under her muzzle. The crunch wasn’t loud, but it was the sickeningly weak and wet sound that told me something important just cracked, and she went flank over teakettle to the ground.

Two down and I heard the movement behind me. Scratch that, one down. The unicorn had wrapped his telekinesis around his battered pistol. I stomped the gun back down, then I stomped his head until his baleful little eyes stopped looking at me.

“Two down, Fizzy!” I shouted, grinning like a foal. Still high on adrenaline, I trotted to the fuchsia colored mare and looked down at her. Her eyes, same color as her fur I noted, stared unblinking. “One good shot?” I wondered aloud, finding myself frowning at that fact. Both of these two were a little too easy to, well, kill. I privately shuddered to go inspect the other side of the barricade now that all had gone silent.

Three more ponies lay there, torn up and spread about by the rain of grenades sent in by Fizzy. I would like to say I took some time to reflect, but I was too busy rifling through their corpses for anything useful. Way I saw it, if you try to take a chunk from my hide; I can take back.

A small amount of caps, some rage, smattering of ammo and some low grade guns. It wasn’t a haul of champions, but I knew I could parley most of it into something worth more. It was while I was stuffing my saddlebags with some sort of carbine, that Fizzy finally came about.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” I probably deserved the comments coming at me, and took them better for the fact my head was still tolling like a leaden bell. “I could have killed you, they could have killed you.”

“But I’m not dead, am I?” I shot back, “Just trust me, I’ve been out here my whole life, you know, I can handle myself.” Taking three steps and falling may not have been the best way to follow up my boast, but my legs weren’t feeling considerate of my ego. I blinked up at a fading Fizzy before it all went black.

* * *

I came to in the remains of an old world diner. The old relics of a long past, happier time surrounded me with a mocking cheeriness hidden underneath the rust and decay. The too-big eyes of the pink ministry mare were watching, as they always were, from a poster that still clung to the aging wall. There was a clock, branded Sparkle-Cola and stopped sometime in the early afternoon, that I fixated on. I don’t know why, it didn’t help as I knew the clock was more dead than I felt. It was something to watch that wasn’t the staring eyes of some long dead mare. I tried to get to my hooves, having to quash the rebellion my legs were putting on. When they were in line and I back on top of them, I felt the onslaught of my headache returning. The world blurred, went pale, too dark and then too light all in the same moment. I reeled and found support in the shape of an old table.

I stood there for what felt like hours, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. I tried to call for Fizzy but all I succeeded in was a garbled moan.

“Hey. Hey, pal. The filly’s ain’t here right now. She trotted off to find some medic crap.”

I looked around for the source of the voice. It popped and hissed, sounded vaguely tinny. Fearful of leaving my support table, I craned my neck to find my radio sitting on the decrepit countertop. The little light still working behind the dial flashed as though it were winking at me. Lacking the drive or ability to respond in anyway resembling wit, I stumbled over the question, “Wait what?”

“You heard me, Red. That filly you been following around went off and left you here.” The radio’s dial light flashed as the voice spoke. It wasn’t one I had heard before, not DJ-Pon3, not any of the wayward DJs I’d heard before. This one was new, raspy and sounded like the words were stuck in the speaker’s throat; moreover, addressing me. I have talked to my fair share of inanimate objects, but this was the first time one of them spoke back.

“You said she was going for some medicine.” I felt a little better knowing Fizzy was getting medical supplies. I didn’t think she was a doctor, but even I knew I was not in a position to argue. “She’ll be back,” I asserted, more to myself than the radio pony.

I got a laugh in return. “Really now, Red? Who’s to say she ain’t going to bite it out there? Manticore’s all up and down this strip. Raiders, too. Just count your lucky stars that those freak ponies got better things to do than hunt you down. Besides, how do you know she’s even coming back for your sorry flank?”

I stared back at the radio, quickly deciding I was not a fan of this new DJ. At the same time, I could not exactly say he was wrong. I mustered what defense I could, given my state. “Because I’d come back for her.”

It sounded weak, it was weak, and the pony on the radio seemed to smell that weakness. “How noble a scavenger you are, Red. Too bad I know you better than that.” There was acid on those words, even through the radio I could feel the sting.

“I’m a salvager,” I snapped back, lashing towards the radio. Too much, too soon, and the world spun around me. How I managed to stay on my hooves I don’t know; most likely pure obstinance. I was standing, and I knew I had to get on the offensive here. I gritted my teeth and tried to stare down the radio. “Who are you, anyways?”

“If that mattered, Red, you’d know already. You see, who I am don’t change what I am doing.” the voice of the radio warbled out of the tinny speakers. “And that’s to help you.”

A snort managed to escape my mouth. “You got a funny definition of help.”

“Sometimes help hurts, Red. I’m just being honest here, your radio wave reality check.” I thought I heard laughter for a moment, it was fleeting, but directed at me. “I got eyes and ears everywhere, Red. I’ll always know what you’re up to, and I’ll always be around to tell you what you need to hear. So don’t worry about it, cause I sure as shit won’t. See, I don’t care if you like me, because it doesn’t make what I say wrong. Catch you later, Red.”

I hammered the power switch with my hoof. If the old world hadn’t seemed to make everything to withstand balefire and megaspells, I think it would have broken. I wish it had, it would’ve looked better than my impotently thumping a radio to the floor before following it myself. For the second time today I took another impromptu, but eagerly needed, nap.

* * *

“Thank Celestia. Here, this won’t help you in the long run, but it’ll get you on your hooves.” The voice I heard was cloudy and distant, a faint echo from a long hallway. Yet for all the world it was the sweetest thing I could have hoped for. That was when I felt the med-x jab into my neck and the warm numbness flow over me.

The source of the voice helped me to my hooves. “Just some scrap bandages and leftover drugs. I can’t help you any more than that; there wasn’t much of a take. Hopefully this can keep you going long enough for us to find some decent healing potions.”

I blinked at nothing for a moment. Slowly, the counter came into view. Then the radio, still off, and my helmet. Finally, I noticed Fizzy. “You were wrong, stupid DJ,” I laughed, it felt and sounded like sandpaper.

“What?” Fizzy was giving me a look that told me it was best to backpedal lest I look insane. Moreso than usual.

“Nothing, just, was just worried you left me to rot. Can’t think of many ponies who would’ve done that.”

She looked insulted. “If I was just going to ditch you, I would have done so before I dragged you all the way here.”

The point struck me with its cold logic. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking right. Turns out getting shot in the head does that to a pony.”

She said as I thought it. “If you can crack jokes, you’re going to be fine.” We both found respite in a short laugh. “And I reinforced your helmet while you were out of it. I didn’t think some old metal hard hat would stand up so well. Chalk it up to earth pony construction.” She levitated the hat over to me, sat it on my head. “Same goes for your skull.”

“Show must go on. Read that once. Don’t think I’m quite ready for it to end.” Brave and confident face applied, I thanked the princesses for the wonderful drug and the magic in the wraps around my head. I managed a few steps toward the way out, stopping only to look back at my traveling companion. “I owe, again, but let’s keep moving. Can’t get your soda staying here.”

“Can’t get you a doctor, either.”

* * *

My mistakes led us to trouble within twenty minutes. We had come across a fallen cargo carriage. I wanted to try and pick through the wreckage. The two of us got in fine. It was a rusted out shell of a vehicle. Trash and potential treasure spread all over the ceiling turned floor. Empty liquor bottles made the most of the strewn refuse. A few rusted metal boxes in the back held little more. It was only in the furthest back that I found anything worth taking. A few stray cases of Mint-als and a few bottles of whiskey that survived sat tucked into a corner. I stuffed them into my saddle bags while Fizzy was lookout. I figured I could keep a bottle of the booze for myself and pawn the Mint-als off on some addict.

Something hit the roof hard enough for it to buckle. Fizzy and I shared a look. We went silent, barely even breathing as we heard the ghastly screeching of claws on metal. Thud after heavy thud echoed above us. The groaning protest of the worn metal filled our ears. We both watched the door. My heart was in my throat. I saw Fizzy’s magic wrap pull a grenade from her saddlebags. We both moved barely a muscle.

The large, bulky shadow that hit the pavement blotted out the light from outside. Pinpricks from the gray outside streamed in through holes in the fatigued metal, but not nearly enough to give us light. We could hear the thing breathing, snuffling about before it was motivated to move its bulk.

Once it moved, we had light, we could see, not that it helped things at all. The rough hide, the massive head with equally massive jaws, the big pointy tail of death made the hopes of the day nice and quashed. The once saving grace was out apparent element of surprise. The hulking beast was walking away from us.

“Fizz, Fizzy,” I hissed through my teeth to the mare. Neither of us moved as we tried to simultaneously look to each other and watch the manticore at the same time. “Take the shot.”

The unicorn nodded, apparently agreeing with me. The little metal apple sailed through the air. It bounced with a light clack, rolled, and sat underneath the brute. The glacial seconds hung in the air, then, bang.

The explosion tore at the manticore. The creature bucked, knocked to the ground, roaring in surprise and pain. It lay on the ground, still, bleeding from a myriad holes torn by the flying metal.

Fizzy and I shared a silent cheer when the manticore hit the dirt. Together, we started for the exit, only to see the manticore haul itself to its paws and turn its attention back on us. Baleful fury and pain in its eyes and in its bellow, it charged the overturned carriage. Fizz and I ran to the front. We didn’t reach the wall before the whole carriage moved under our feet. A deafening crunch echoed in the carriage as the manticore struck. The carriage bucked, Fizzy and I fell amidst bottle after bottle of spent whiskey. I spent the next immediate moment thanking the creators of med-x and those magical bandages.

“Note to self, develop higher yield formula.” Fizzy was making notation while upside and folded like a concertina. I didn’t know if that scared me more than the manticore.

The manticore decided to answer that question for me when I saw its massive paw stretching deep into the carriage. It was a well-played rebuttal and I had to admit, much scarier given the circumstances. I watched the paw while it pounded about the inside of the carriage, swiping blindly for us. Trapped as we were, at least it could not get to us. In all, we had broken even on the situation.

“I can’t detonate anything this close to us. I don’t have any shaped charges.” Fizzy was back on her hooves and huddled next to me to figure this situation out. “If I blow anything here it’ll be messy.”

I looked at Fizzy a moment, eyebrow raised. “We’ll be in the blast radius,” she added with a roll of her eyes. “Colts,” she muttered under her breath.

“We’re facing something that wants to eat us, I think a little levity is warranted.” My comment fell on deaf ears and I was left to look out at the things around us. “How are you with making things?” I asked. My mind ticked over as I watched the flailing paw.

“Pretty good,” Fizzy eyed me with curiosity, “You have something in mind?”

“Ayup.” I dug through my saddlebags. There were advantages to being a little brawnier than other ponies. Namely, I could carry a lot of usually useless crap on my back. “I got some spare electrical junk, a plunger, a spark battery, some duct tape and a big kitchen knife. Now I’m willing to bet it’s useful, but I’m not exactly mechanically inclined.” I tried the big goofy grin to help push my case along.

It worked. Fizzy took to the scrap with that same parasprite-under-glass look she gave me. Her magic lifted the various parts up and around. “I think I can do something with this. Yes. Just try to let me work here.”

The sharp, dripping stinger that pierced the roof of the carriage was a wake up call. I cursed in unison with Fizzy as the manticore punched its tail through the roof over and over again. It stopped, but only for the beast to shove its face inside the back end of the vehicle. It couldn’t push the carriage anymore so it settled on trying to force its way inside to get to its pony based dinner.

I shouted for Fizzy to keep working but she was already deep into stringing something together. My job was simple, keep the brute distracted while the unicorn made with her magic. My solution was simple assault with the junk bottles. Bottle after bottle I hurled at the manticore. Some broke against its gnashing and thrashing face. Most of them just bounced harmlessly. I doubt I ever genuinely hurt it, but I did piss it right off. Just as good since I kept the creature from figuring out a more novel way to get at us.

The manticore snarled and bellowed. Spittle flew from its fangs. Clanging filled the carriage each time it hefted its considerable bulk against the rusted frame. I continued to taunt the monster until Fizz floated some strange looking spear over to me. I blinked at it. It was short, made from body of the plunger. The knife was at one end, the spark battery at the other. Two wired ran the length of the stick, kept down by the tape. It looked like it could work. It also looked like it could kill me all the same. “Are you sure about this?” I shouted my concern over the manticore’s din.

“Just don’t touch the pointy metal end and I think you’ll be fine.”

Her answer did not fill me with a great load of confidence. I had no other choice though. It was all or nothing. I bit down on the modified spear. I reeled my head back. I kept my eye on my target. I waited for the manticore to snap its jaws. I threw.

I got to see a light show. The spark battery discharged when the spear wedged itself inside the manticore’s maw. Arcane flashes in a multitude of colors splashed and sparked in a dazzling way. Pure scintillation, I was agape at creature. It bucked, slamming its head against the ceiling. Desperation got the manticore free and it began to dance and twitch. It pawed at its mouth, uselessly trying to dislodge the spear. Its bellows and roars choked and sputtered as it slowed, fell, and twitched its last on the pavement. The tangy smell of cooked flesh coiled up in the smoke from the animal’s jaw.

We stared for a long, quiet time, Fizadora and I. We stood waiting, watching the death throes, listening to the crackle hiss of charred flesh, the gargled whimpers of the dying beast. The carriage, the road, the section of the city seemed quieter than death after it ended.

“Holy fuck,” Fizzy broke the silence in a succinct way.

I just nodded in reply.

“So, uh, let’s just keep going then?”

I just nodded in reply.

* * *

“Not all that much farther.” Fizzy was looking at her map. I stared up at the clouds. “I think we ended up turned around for a while, but I’m working off of hearsay and guesswork,” she commented. Not satisfied with my lack of response, she jabbed my side. “Hey, are you listening?”

“What? Yeah, yeah,” I sputtered, looking back down from the gray clouds above. I shook my head, my eyes needed to adjust. “I figured as much. It happens some times. We’re out of my area and I don’t know this place that well. Not a lot of familiar markers.”

“If we could get your PipBuck working, then this whole trip would become a lot simpler” Fizzy’s words made me look down to the dead accessory on my foreleg. She continued, “I could probably fix it with some time and parts. I have seen a few before. Back home, that is.”

“Considering it’s nothing more than a useless hunk, I’d appreciate it.”

Fizzy nodded, rolling up her map to tuck away in her saddlebags. “Even with the parts, need something to boot up the spell matrix. That means we are going to need some arcane technology to help with the job.”

We were crossing a bridge built over a stagnant, still, sickly looking river. Across lay the final strip of city that could still be reasonably called Manehattan. Just one more neighborhood to go and we were out of the way. I had been watching the skies, thinking of everything I had called home that I was leaving. Not that there was much of it left, burnt down by that blue raider and his crew. Not that it was much anyways. A radio, a mattress, a stack of books I had read over and over again. I already replaced the radio, and already I had started replacing the books. Besides, I figured, I was hardly doing anything important with my life. If that stable pony could do give up whatever they had to help others, I could give up my little rut. I took a moment in my walking to thank that raider, Scorch, they had called him. It was his fault, and maybe helping some mare find old soda was not world changing, but it was something.

At that point, the bullets started drilling themselves into the bodies of the rusted out and dead carts that littered the old bridge.

Curses flew all around. Fizzy and I started to haul. I looked behind to see if I could spot who was taking pot shots. There was about six of them, all armed, all dolled up in the latest raider fashions. Not that I cared much about most of them, not when I saw the one standing a little behind the charging line. He was big, he was blue, and had that big battle saddle strapped on.

I began to compose a symphony in the key of “fuck”. I was leading Fizzy, beginning to put space between us as I wove around, by and over the rubble and junk blocking my path. I could not figure the why or the how and made me stop. I turned back to find her slowing just enough to drop a disc on the ground behind her. She was carrying mines. Somehow, I should have known that.

“What are you waiting for, run, run!” Fizzy tore past me. The high-pitched whine of bullets striking my surroundings followed. I turned tail to keep up with my mine-laying companion. More pinging as I wove around an overturned hunk of metal far beyond its original shape an intended use. It still made for a decent wall. I stopped there for a moment to catch my breath.

The expected boom of the land mines never came. I stuck my eye up to a hole in my metal wall. “Sweet Celestia!” I spat. Scorch was directing them to the other side of the bridge. He was going around the mines. He stopped and looked right at my cover. There was no way he could see me, which is why it was very disconcerting when he pointed a hoof in my direction. The fusillade tore at the wall, a lead hailstorm. I bolted again, my brief safety compromised. I looked for Fizzy but couldn’t see her. With nothing else to go on, I ran for the far end of the bridge, shouting out for the unicorn. The relief I felt when I saw that ridge of hair she called a mane peak over the back of an old barricade

That relief was short lived by the sudden cessation of shooting sounds behind me. I should have been happy, not getting shot generally being one of the more positive activities in a pony’s day, but this time it just made me afraid for what was being concocted. I could not bring myself to like the idea of raiders using tactics more sophisticated than strung out suicide charges. This time, I didn’t bother to look back.

Fizzy was laying another mine as I came about the barricade. I leapt over her in surprise. I nearly lost a hoof to the little disc of dismemberment. “Fizz, let’s move, now. As in running time. They’re avoiding your traps.” I tried to convey my urgency by speaking at a pace akin to machine gun fire.

“I know. Just want to slow them. Didn’t want you getting caught up.” She responded with clipped sentences, but lacking the urgency I would have liked to see. The last little light on the mine blinked on. “Done,” she said, and tore away. With a sigh, I realized I was behind again, having to play catch up with bombermare.

The shots started coming again. Short bursts this time. I could only guess they were conserving their ammunition. Worse than the thought of them playing smart was that gnawing realization that they were playing us, herding us along through their bursts of gunfire. They shot to force us one way or another. We were still too far ahead, and moving too frantically for them to hit us with any accuracy, but they had figured that and settled for the more conservational option. I was beginning to hate these ponies.

I saw the apple soar up and over Fizzy’s head. I heard it explode behind me. I looked back to watch the raiders gather themselves up and just keep coming. A peach-coated unicorn was floating an old rifle; his shots were the ones guiding us, leading us how Scorch wanted. Scorch, I noticed, seemed to be missing from his posse all of a sudden.

The peach colored unicorn’s head popped. Cracking back, I saw a spray of red fan out behind what was left of his head. I could see his one dying eye blink in surprise as what was left of his brain tried to process its sudden disappearance. “Shit,” I said aloud, turning and running to keep pace. No idea where that came from but I hoped that the shot wasn’t a mistake.

Fizzy banked left when we got to the end of the bridge. I followed. We had no choice in the matter; there was a makeshift wall just beyond the intersection. Some pony had piled up whatever they could gather to build themselves a solid fortification. It was impressive and impressively inconvenient for us. The side road it was then, trying to find a way around.

I looked out across the way, over to the bridge. From my new perspective, I could see the large blue stallion after me. He was watching me; crouched down behind one of the overturned barricades himself. From the corner of my eye, I saw another one of the raiders spasm when a bullet ripped a path through its body. This second loss apparently kick started their brains again and they hunkered down. The raiders were focused on our unseen savior, Big Blue was still watching me.

It may have been stupid. Correction, it was very stupid, but all the same I decided then and there to pose for Scorch, to give him the greatest and grandest shit eating grin I could drum up. Then I ran as if my tail was on fire.

* * *

Night was fast approaching. My meds had worn down, the dull aching realization that I was injured was coming back. The adrenaline rush that bought me so much more time was on its ebb. It hurt, I hurt, and though the chase didn’t add any more injuries to me, it made me acutely aware of the ones I had. Everything was made even worse by the fact Fizzy and I had been trying to find a suitable place to camp for the night. Neither of us wanted to be out when the bloodwings took flight, nor be exposed in case Scorch and his crew got past the sniper.

“Aha, found it!” Fizzy’s excited voice drew me from my steady watch of the road we were putting behind us.

“Found what?”

“The way in. That pony who was shooting wasn’t aiming for us. The way I figure it, whoever that pony is, is our best bet at getting through the night. Only problem was finding the way to get to wherever they were.” Fizzy was crouched low, the silver aura of her magic trailed along the ground to a mine just barely out of view. It beeped once, twice, and then chirrup when the little light went out. Fizzy may have been calm, but I still released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Careful,” she continued as she nudged her way past tipped over and placed metal, stone and wood fashioned into crooked barricades. “We’ve got mines, live ones. This will take a bit.” She explained this while deactivating another one.

“At least we know they like visitors.” I hid my concern poorly. I stayed close to my little explosives expert for my own safety. The fact that she was rearming the mines and leaving them behind us was all the more reason not to stray from her and her winding path.

“Can’t help but think,” my voice kept low, as though it could set off the bombs at any moment, “it’s good that this pony doesn’t want us dead.”

“Heard the joke the first time,” Fizzy was busy hiding a mine behind us.

“No,” I corrected, “I mean look there. That building.” I directed Fizzy to a large structure, nominally intact considering its neighbors. It was not a very tall building, but its squat nature must have spared it some of the wrath of the bombs. Most importantly to me was the fact it had one key feature, balconies, namely one large balcony that ringed most of the structure. “I bet from there they could pick off anypony or anything they wanted to. We were trying to clear a path through the mines, we completely let ourselves out in the open.”

Fizzy didn’t reply. The look on her face drawn and suddenly very self aware was response enough. We shared a nod, and she returned to her minesweeping.

One by one, spot by spot, we delved; she delved, into collecting and replacing the carefully laid mines. A few were in the open, I couldn’t figure out why. Not when there were more that were placed under things, or just off to the side. Better placed, deadlier looking mines. I could only think they were a distraction so whoever this pony was, he could shoot you easier. It made sense, but it was still a little chilling. I’ve killed, I already had two deaths on my hooves today alone, but at least I was up close, at least I took them on directly. There was something dispassionate about it all, even if it was all just the concoctions of my imagination. I hadn’t met this pony, but I was already trying to figure out how they thought. Ah well, it kept my mind off mines.

Closer and closer we got, bit by bit nearer to the front door. The space in front of the door was cleared of mines, empty and open for us. After the ages it took us to deal with the minefield, it was dark, and we both broke for the door, stopping just shy of throwing the doors open and running in.

“The Hotel Haflinger,” I read the burnished brass plate beside the door, “Established before you were born.” Fizzy and I shared a glance. “So,” I said, “You’re thinking the door is trapped?”

She nodded, looking from the door to me. “Ayuh. Considering the evidence suggests it.”

I tapped my hooves in time to an internal song. She adjusted her glasses. Time ticked impatiently.

I broke first. “I’ll be the gentlestallion and get the door for the mare of the hour,” my reluctance not as feigned as I had hoped it appeared. With a flourish and a bow, I put my weight into the most florid door opening I could.

Only there was no door anymore. I fell into the foyer flat on my face. While being intimate with the flooring, I pondered why Fizzy didn’t at least laugh at my failings. I found out why rather quickly by way of a voice echoing from somewhere above.

“So, my friends, would you prefer booze, or bullets?”
_________________________________________________________________________________________

Level up!
New Perk: Iron Hoof: You deal additional unarmed damage!

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

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

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