Fallout Equestria: A Pony of a Different Color

by Turtledude

First published 29th of October, 2012

With the help of his friends, Xero must stop a tyrant from destroying the wasteland. Will there be blood? Adventure? Sacrifice? Yes.

Taking place roughly 15 years before the adventure of the Stable Dweller and Security, a creature by the name of Xerophyte embarks on a journey to stop a tyrant from destroying the Outlands. Sacrifices will be made. A hero will fall. A radroach will save the day. With the help of the misfit friends he makes along the way, Xero will have to trek across the Outlands to stop a scheme hidden under the guise of a unified wasteland.

Piece of cake, right?

Chapter 1 - Another day, Another Cap (Prologue)

“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...”

That's how most stories start out, right? Well...

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...

We fucked up.

Not ‘we’ as in ‘us’, the ponies and other creatures of post-apocalyptic Equestria, but those of two centuries ago. ‘We’ as the sentient beings of this world destroyed the only thing we call ‘home’.

Conflicting ideals, the struggle for resources, the pull of a trigger: That's all it took for an all out war.

War never changes. A tireless phrase that’s been said time and time again. War always changes. Factions rise and fall. New, creative ways of death and destruction are found, abused, and expended. The reasons are, as always, purely our own.

The ponies and zebras took up arms against each other. Metals used for simple trinkets and jewelry were formed into blades and new instruments: guns. The same magics used to entertain thousands and the innate ability of unicorns were weaponized, being grotesquely melded into a deadly art.

The Equestrians further enhanced their magic with the creation of Megaspells, arcane super-weapons. Some were capable of raining fire down from the sky or raising the dead so they could continue to fight. They were suppose to be an endgame weapon, until the zebras got a hold of them, too.

Balefire bombs. The Equestrians had never seen anything like them. Necromantic and radioactive dragons’ breath. How the zebras managed to harness and contain the vile contaminant was a complete mystery. The everlasting green flames scorched all of Equestria on the last day, bathing it in a blanket of magical radiation and turning it into a near-dead rock... a wasteland.

That wasn’t the only parting gift from the world of yesteryear, though. A highly toxic substance called taint is found in varying amounts in almost everything, from puddles of dirty water to ‘fresh’ fruit to plants and animals. It’s mutative properties have changed things into monsters from their former selves. Bloatspites, small, bug-like, flying balls of needle-shooting death and pain, bounce around the wastes in search of food, namely ponies. Cockroaches, pigs, and alligators have grown to great proportions. Even little bunnies have transformed into evil critters.

That’s nothing compared to those of us who have survived the Apocalypse. Equines have armed themselves to the teeth to protect what they think rightfully belongs to them, generally a can of beans or couple of stale snack cakes. We kill each other for food or a place to sleep or even... ‘caps’.

Some of us have completely degraded to primal instincts. Raiders run rampant through the blasted streets and burnt landscape, killing and mutilating others just because they can. Ghouls, the product of intense and prolonged exposure to radiation, shamble in the shadows. While some may be sane, even friendly, they’re all just ticking time bombs, waiting for that one thing that sends them over the edge into an animalistic rage. Perverse versions of Celestia and Luna stalk the weak, promising perfect enlightenment and security. They’re all just children of the wastes.

Even after all of this, we survive. Some say we’re slowly dying out, fading away like dust on a soft breeze. There are those who are trying their damnedest to avoid the inevitable extinction, for themselves and others. And then there are those who are helping it along.

Xerophyte: a name that’s only spoken in hushed tones around campfires or dark taverns. Most consider it just a myth, a fairy tale, nothing more than a bedtime story for little colts and fillies. But, it is much more than that. It’s a story of heroism, turmoil, and impossible choices. It’s an epic of an outcast who learns that there’s more to living than just being alive. It’s an adventure filled with hope, darkness, and of course, friendship.

Not everyone has a past they’re proud of. Some have a history so shadowed with vileness, they’ve blocked it from memory so they wouldn’t have to deal with the pain and misery of what they’ve done. Some have even ended their own lives, unable to cope with their misdeeds. The wasteland tends to do that, break us down until we’re nothing. It’s a dangerous, horrible place. Sometimes it needs someone to step up and say “Enough is enough!” Someone to take charge and better the world. Someone to answer the call for help. A selfless person willing to sacrifice. The wasteland needs... a hero.

That wasn’t me. Not then, not now. I wasn’t a hero. The things I’ve done... the crimes against nature I’ve committed... Nothing I do will right them. They are forever a part of me. They haunt me in my sleep and even when I’m awake. Were they worth it? No, nothing was worth what I’d done. Some considered me a ‘bad pony’. I do. Some would like to think otherwise. I find it intriguing how people only choose to see one side of your story. Every cap has two sides... Every darkness has a light shining through it... Every sunny day has a cloud...

Every hero falls...

I laid in the middle of the broken and blasted street, staring up at the ever present cloud cover that blanketed the wasteland sky. I was in the residential sector of Mareverick, a large city-state that operated apart from the Equestrian government. All around, tall apartment buildings rose into the sky, dilapidated spires of stone and brick. Some were only a couple stories tall. Others, like Penchant Tower and the BioTec Equestrian Office, were skyscrapers. The one-hundred foot antennas on the top of the leaning structures seemed to claw at the grey overcast. They were truly a sight to see, a testament to Equestrian ingenuity and architecture.

Beside me, an empty Hydra injector sat near a bizarre looking rifle. The bright red chem casing was cracked, but there was no evidence of it having spilled it’s contents onto the dry, dusty, earth. I sat upright, popping my stiff neck and back in the process.

“Yavla faen...” I grumbled. My head felt like I’d fallen out of a third story window. That would be ridiculous, though. A fall like that would have killed me.

I don’t know why I was in these ruins. The alcoves, outcroppings, and abandoned buildings were perfect hiding spots for all manners of hostiles, from bloatsprite colonies to raiders to mercenaries to an Arbalest (as unlikely as that would be, it was still possible). Hell, even alicorns occasionally sought refuge in these husks of civilization. Although, I would much rather fight a group of alicorns any day than stumble upon a single Arbalest. They were huge, mechanical, lumbering beasts of prewar science and magic, capable of reattaching severed limbs and regenerating from most damage almost instantly. The only thing more terrifying was a Spectre, but they were more a campfire story than anything else. New Wave would occasionally mention them on the radio, but I don’t think anypony had ever brought one down, or even encountered one and lived to tell the tale. Remains of a Spectre battle were always obvious: bullet casings and shells everywhere, puddles of blue-glowing goo or pitch-black ash piles, and no blood. I’d never seen one, of course, only the aftermath and stories.

I picked up the rifle and examined it. It was in good working order. No rust, no dirt, not even scratches or marks on its gleaming silver barrel and body. I remembered that it use to be my brother’s. And our father’s, and his father’s...

I stowed it away in my saddlebag, which was laying close by, it’s contents scattered about. Using my magic, I gathered everything and started filling the two, heavy canvas sacks. I was running low on caps, according to my old, trusty, PipBuck. I still couldn’t remember why I was here. I was doing... something.

There was a time when memories came to me like they happened yesterday, even if they happened years ago. Now, I couldn’t remember anything. I knew who I was and where, but everything seemed foggy and cloudy. There was a thick haze shrouding my recollections. When I tried to remember what I did the day before, or even the week or month, there was nothing. I was a little, living happily with others of my own kind. My brother and I went to a BioTec Research facility. And that’s where the fog began to thicken. Something happened. Something terrible. I couldn’t remember what, but something told me I didn’t want to remember. Everything was so dark and cold. Things didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t know what to do.

“There!” somepony yelled out. He was a grey-green pegasus with a muddy brown mane.

“Hey!” I called back, waving a hoof. Maybe he could tell me what was going on.

My hopes were quickly put down when he started firing his battle-saddle mounted rifle. It was a lever action rifle, but being a pegasus, all he had to do was kick a little pedal mid-flight and he’d be ready to fire again. And he was fast.

Tossing my bags over my back, I bolted down the street, away from him. A couple grounded ponies were firing their weapons too. From the sound of them, one was using a hunting rifle and the other had a submachine gun.

I dashed around the corner of the street. There was very big park ahead, with more buildings sprouting from it’s brown, grassy land. There was a crashed Cantervega ‘autocarriage’ a few dozen feet away. I darted underneath, shifting it with my magic so I could fit. It was tight, but there was just enough room for me. I wasn’t big-boned, by far. I was rather lanky, actually. Maybe even slightly gaunt. Definitely not small framed, though. I was about half a head taller than most other ponies.

“That fucker went this way!” the pegasus called out as I situated the Cantervega over top of me.

“Where’d that cunt nugget go?” an earth pony yelled.

“Search the area. Whoever it was couldn’t have gotten far.” the winged one commanded. I think he was in charge.

“What if they not that bad no more?” the third pony asked. From where I laid prone, I could see that she was a very simple minded unicorn with the SMG. “Did you see ‘em run? Was scared shitless.”

“Butter Stick, what did I tell you? Just because a freak runs away after attacking doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be killed.” the stallion spat. “What that thing did to Golden Wreath is unforgivable. Not even Cotton Candy was spared. She was just a filly! Plus, our employer is dead now. I want that fucker’s caps!”

“Jus’ sayin’ boss, maybe we could let dis one go? Besides, ‘ere’s plenty of caps back at da wagon.” the simple mare said. “It could be watchin us aight now an we wouldn even know it. We could be aight in its sights...”

The three of them looked around cautiously. What had I done? Why did they want to kill me? Who was Golden Wreath and Cotton Candy? They didn’t sound familiar. My mind was full of questions that I wanted to ask, but couldn’t. They wanted me dead. I could tell that they weren’t raiders. The grounded ones wore merc combat armor while the flying one was clad in lightweight metal armor.

“Butter’s right, Pike.” The earth pony said, as she spat out her saddle’s bit. “That shit stick could be scoping us right now. You saw how quickly everypony was killed. It was just seconds and all seven of them were gone.”

The stallion sighed, landing beside his comrades.

“Yeah... Let’s get out of here.” he said. “I don’t feel like getting shot in the head today. And besides that, this is Sunny Greens Park. I don’t want my brain to get mind-fucked either.”

The three of them left the way they had arrived. Sunny Greens Park. It was familiar. I needed to get the fuck out of here. That’s all I knew. I waited a couple minutes before lifting the autocarriage off of me and crawling out onto the sidewalk. I needed somewhere to rest. Maybe that would help me remember.

To the west was a small, ritzy town: Clopton.

I got up, dusted myself off, and started off towards it with a quick gallop. I could have gone fast, but I paced myself. Normally, the trip would take a day, but even for being a little underweight, I was incredibly fit and agile.

It was mid-evening when I arrived at the gated community. It screamed lavished and spoiled fancy ponies, which I was not. I trotted through the open gate, found the nearest tavern, rented a cheap room, and went off to bed.

I needed something to calm my nerves, and sleep and Mint-Als sounded like a good idea.

My racing mind relaxed, I closed my eyes, and drifted off into what I hoped would be a pleasant rest...

Footnote: New Game! Character level 1

Author's Notes:

Hey! I'm still looking for pre-readers and editors! The first five chapters have been completed and edited, but I still need some for the others. If your interested, just send a PM! (please?)

Chapter 2 - A Wasteland Oddity

Chapter 2

A Wasteland Oddity

“Learning to laugh at your flaws is part of the fun, but I don’t laugh at anyone.”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Ugh...”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Yeah, I’m awake...” I wrapped it in my magic, pushing the ‘Off’ button.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Yavla faen! I said, I’m awake!” I yelled as I slammed my right foreleg against the wall a couple times, finally causing the alarm to stop. Granted, PipBucks could survive a direct hit from a missile, but I think mine was a little broken. Occasionally, when I shook it, something inside would rattle. The ‘Off’ button for the alarm didn’t always work, either.

“Ah, another glorious day in the brown, dull, wasteland. Today’s forecast: surprisingly cloudy with a twenty percent chance of raiders and radscorpions,” I said to nopony but myself with as much sarcasm as equinely possible. I rolled off the two-hundred-year-old mattress, gave myself slightly dusty shake, and a nice long stretch, cracking my neck and shoulders in the process. The best part about traveling alone is that the only one to bother is yourself, and there’s nopony to bother you. I ran my own shifts. I decided when and where to rest and when to wake up.

When my PipBuck worked, that is.

It was a strange thing. The foreleg-mounted device was noticeably larger and heavier than the Stable-Tec issued PipBucks. The casing was an unpainted, light grey. Rather than amber or green, the text display was grey-white. Buttons and dials were more numerous than on the 3000 model, as were the screens and menus. Health diagnostics, status effects, organized inventory listings, and other useful things made up the fifteen or so ‘pages’, as the magical item called them. Instead of whatever it was that required special tools or a bone saw to remove, the contraption was held on with quick-release clips that I could unbuckle at will. It’s EFS (Eyes Forward Sparkle, a heads-up display and radar) was also unique; it was a brilliant crimson color. Friendly targets show up as blue on the radar part, while hostiles were red. No Stable-Tec logos or insignias were visible on its body. The words ‘Stable-Tec’ weren’t even printed anywhere on it. The only word that appeared out of the ordinary was the word ‘Manticore’, which was emblazoned just above the screen in bright orange. I had found it years ago while scavenging a pre-war tech-depot in the industrial ruins of Maverick. There are many PipBucks in the Wasteland, but this one was mine, and it was one of a kind.

Looking around, I didn’t see any ticks on the EFS. Not a single one. Hoping the local DJ might have something to say, I turned on the radio and tuned it about, scanning for any signals. Nothing. Not even static.

“Ugh, fine. No music... Just a stallion and his thoughts,” I muttered with mild annoyance and turned it off.

The remains of the house I was in weren’t much. I think I was in the bathroom. Of the three still somewhat standing walls, only one of them still had siding. There were no windows or a roof. The only thing that kept last night’s rain off was the rusty piece of sheet metal I had leaned against the wall and dirty floor. I wrapped the nine foot long sheet in my teal aura and easily pushed it aside, along with the mattress. Underneath were a few loose floorboards that I kicked up. The small hidey-hole beneath them was filled with my gear. Once again, I didn’t get mugged. Or worse. I levitated out my out my saddlebags and set them by an old, dilapidated sink. I fished out my leather barding, gave it a good shake to dust it out, and slipped into it. It was only half a size too small, but that made it incredibly uncomfortable to sleep in. It would have to do until I found another suit. Finally, I found my cloak.

The cloak had belonged to my brother, and before him, our father, and his father, and his father’s father, and so on. I was told it made sneaking easier, but I seemed to get caught more often than not. At one time, it did have an invisibility talisman, but it was lost long before my father had it. The material was strange, made of some sort of very short fur. Pony hide? I hoped not. That sounded disgusting. Perhaps it was from a manticore? Who knows. When worn, it kept perfect temperature; cooling in the daytime heat, while warming in the chilly wasteland nights. The cloak never dirtied, either, even when it was literally rubbed in the dirt and mud. There were runes and glyphs on the clasp that allowed it to be repaired with almost any fabric, from leather to linen. It, too, went next to the sink.

I sat there in front of the dirty, cracked, medicine cabinet mirror for a short while, looking the reflection over. My dad told me I had my mom’s rich, amber eyes. I thought so, too. The dusky blue creature in the mirror gazed back, an indifferent frown upon his muzzle. His mane was a little darker blue than his hide with streaks of black. If washed, they would probably be dark grey. The equine’s horn wasn’t below average, or even average. It actually could be considered a tiny bit larger than most unicorns’. I didn’t suffer from horn-envy, not that that really mattered. My coat was broken up by black stripes that covered my entire body.

An accident years ago had somehow changed me. It... it was a painful memory. I didn’t know what I was now. I didn’t just look different, I felt different. Something inside had changed. Something that made me... me. I’d never seen anything like it, like me. What was I? A zebra? A unicorn? Zebricorn?

The cutie-glyph mark on my flank was just as weird. I wasn’t sure if it was a cutie mark or glyph mark. Maybe both? Neither? It depicted a fire bird in flight. A phoenix. While the left half was a black zebra glyph, the right was a fiery red and gold. I had no idea what is was suppose to mean. It didn’t signify my ‘special talent’. I was a jack-of-all-trades. There were no wings on my back, so it wasn’t as if I could actually fly. No talent in singing. It didn’t show anything. I sighed as I continued to stare at myself for another minute before levitating a small, elongated box out of my saddlebags.

I didn’t have much in the ways of magic. I wasn’t sure how my telekinesis stood against other unicorns, but I’ve tossed a Cantervega autocarriage out of my way before. I was strong, but it wasn’t like I could move friggin’ boxcars or anything. Other than that... nope. That was it. I was a one trick pony. I was okay with it, though. I never needed anything else.

I took out the box’s contents and started to brush my teeth. Those few ponies who have seen me do it always gave me weird looks. One of the few clean things you can do in the wasteland is care for your teeth when you have the supplies, and having white, healthy teeth is one way to easily improve business relations.

As if anypony would want to trade with me.

After my morning routine, I decided I really didn’t need my leather barding. The biggest threat here was probably a radhog or the lone raider. I put it in my saddlebag and slipped the much lighter cloak over my head. It was then I realized that I didn’t have my gun. After a minute of rummaging, I finally found my weapon and foreleg holster. It was a zebra-made .44 scoped revolver. Along it’s gleaming, silver barrel, black scope, and shiny frame, were elegant scrollworks and runes of black and gold. It rarely needed repairs and cleaning, thanks to the glyphs that covered it. The heavy revolver had almost no recoil, so it was capable of being mouth fired without breaking a neck or some teeth. Some of the runes were strangely similar to those on the cloak, so I figured they must of had the some of the same enchantments. Self-cleaning, perhaps? I didn’t dwell on the thought for more than a second. I had received the .44 revolver as a gift just before... setting out on my own. You know, the whole ‘a bird has to leave the nest eventually’ kind of thing. That reminds me, it even had a name: Tweety, for its high pitch, suppressed firing sound. It was almost like a chirping noise. Quite a thoughtful gift, if I do say so myself.

It was about 9 o’clock when I left my little ruin of a shelter and set off west, toward the nearest pony settlement, New Appleoosa. It was still at least another day’s trot away, but I wasn’t in any hurry. Breakfast was eaten on the go, and consisted of my own super tasty recipe for Sugar Apple Bombs (the secret ingredient is cinnamon, don’t tell anyone) and a can of diced carrots. The SAB’s were very good, but the two-century-old carrots were not, because they were healthy. And old.

A flicker on my EFS brought me out of my brain-dead trot. A little red ‘1’ appeared beside the compass, signifying that there was one hostile in range. There was a blue ‘0’ for friendlies. My PipBuck never ceased to amaze me.

“About time something happened. I was getting bored,” I muttered under my breath. About two-hundred-fifty feet ahead of me, basking in the middle of the road, was my first hostile of the day. It was a large bark scorpion, treating itself to a dead carcass. “Although physically weaker than their much larger cousins, the common radscorpion, bark scorpions are much more venomous. If not countered with an antivenom right away, death is quick. And painful. I’ve seen it before,” I said matter-of-factly to, again, nopony at all.

I continued to trot on my way, keeping an eye on the little arachnid. At about fifty feet away, I gave a sharp, short whistle. The bark scorpion looked up from its meal and started crawling towards me, giving short little clicks and screeches. I whipped out Tweety and dropped into SATS, targeting two shots into its body. The first shot veered slightly to the left and blew off its right claw in a green-yellow, splattery mist. The second bullet hit home and nearly exploded the bug’s body from the sheer force. Maybe a modified .44 was a bit overkill. I threw back my cloak’s hood as I approached my kill.

“Yeah! How’s that for a trick? Little wastelander has a PipBuck and actually knows how to use it!” I bragged to the still oozing corpse.

As you may have noticed, I talk to myself a lot. Most ponies travel in groups, gangs, or caravans. They talk to each other about whatever they please. I talk to myself because there was nopony else.

I cut the poison gland out of the bark scorpion with a combat knife, which shared a spot in Tweety’s holster. The bug was feasting on the body of a dirty looking, mottled green, earth pony mare, her hind quarters eaten away by crows and other scavengers. The smell was what you’d expect from a corpse. Though it reeked, I’d smelled worse things. After a light tap with a forehoof, I found that the body was fairly cold and stiff.

“A couple days old,” I stated.

I found what I assumed to be her saddlebag nearby and checked its contents by dumping them on the road. I was upwind to better avoid the smell of rotting pony.

“Let’s see... garbage... junk... scrap metal... garbage.. forceps? ...more scraps... No wonder she’s dead, she doesn’t have any barding or weapons! Wait, what’s this?” I said as I looked at a piece of ‘garbage’.

“Dear Miss Flintlock,

Thank you for accepting my offer. I knew you would see it our way and I’m glad you pulled the job off. The payment was 1,000 caps upfront to cover resource costs and 3,500 upon confirmed completion. Payment has been paid per your request, which I must add is highly unusual for a mare in your field of work. You can find the key to room 17 under a piece of wood behind the large rock at the entrance to New Appleoosa. Again I must thank you for your precision work. Seriously, shooting a pipe to cause a steam explosion? I was thinking something more along the lines of a drowning or ‘suicide’. But this? This, was much better. The look on her face must have been priceless. When I need another hitmare, as always, you'll be the first to know.

Your most faithful client,
Galvano”

Well, that was... interesting. “New Appleoosa? Good thing I’m headed there anyways,” I said. I didn’t find any caps, so maybe she didn’t make it back to claim her payment. Something didn’t seem right about it though. “She’s a hitmare without any caps, guns or armor? How’d a little bark scorpion get her?” I thought aloud. Something wasn’t sitting right about this. Searching what remained of the mare over, I found what I assumed to be the cause of death.

Stuck in her forehead, sticking out half an inch or so, was a pencil thick spike of metal. Using my magic, I pulled it out, curious as to what it was. I nearly dropped it when it finally came loose. The thing was almost a foot long! Along it’s silvery length were fancy scrollworks and runes. Perhaps it was enchanted. Maybe somepony just decided to decorate it. I wiped off the thick, dark blood on my cloak, watching as the stain disappeared before my eyes. Self cleaning, indeed. The head of the stake was imprinted with a symbol I was only slightly familiar with. Three Interlinked circles with some sort of blade in the middle. I put it in my saddlebag, thinking I’d sell it for scrap or something. Looking back at the note I-

“Magna...” I started chasing the note blowing down the broken highway.

Ten minutes later, I got the note back. It had blown off the road and gotten stuck in a dried-up shrub. I went to put it in my saddlebag as well, but I noticed something on the back. Again, there were three, red rings and what I could now say was a black, serrated dagger.

I made my way back to the road with no trouble. I continued my trek to New Appleoosa, pondering why the note and stake would have the same symbol. Coincidence? No, they were too much alike. Did this ‘Galvano’ hire another assassin to kill Flintlock? Possibly. I’ve heard of it before. A pony promises a load of caps and doesn’t pay up, killing their employee to avoid having to pay them. Maybe the note was planted for somepony like me to find. Why, I have no idea. Perhaps the answers lie in new Appleoosa.

A flicker on my EFS showed five non-hostiles up ahead. Well, they were up ahead, around a bend, and in a valley. As I trotted closer, I levitated out a sniper rifle scope. Not the whole rifle, since I didn’t actually have one, just the scope. I couldn’t tell who or what the targets were yet, so I walked a little closer. From this distance, it appeared to be a small caravan. Pulling up my scope again, I took count. Three ponies, two brahmin, each with a cart hitched to their backs. I was still about four or five hundred feet away when a little, burnt orange, brown maned unicorn ran up to the light blue earth pony. Inaudible words were exchanged and a third pony, a light grey... pegasus? came trotting up to them. The little unicorn grabbed what looked like a hunting rifle and dashed behind one of the wagons. I dropped down my scope and looked myself over. A dark mysterious pony armed with only a scoped .44 and a hooded cloak. Was I really that intimidating? I looked through my sniper scope and noticed the blue-maned earth pony was looking back through a pair of binoculars mounted on a tripod. A friendly wave of my hoof seemed to ease them up a bit. I put my scope back in my saddlebag pouch and continued my way up the inclined highway to the narrow valley.

The last thing I wanted to do was fight these harmless trading ponies.

“Well, howdy partner!” the earth pony stallion exclaimed as I neared. “Welcome to Can’t Cover Clips Caravan.”

“Hel-” I coughed, trying to stifle my zebra accent that I accidentally let slip. Although I lived my entire life in and around Equestria, I caught my parents’ zebra accent. Some ponies get creeped out by zebras for some reason. Some even still blame us for the end of the world. That was why I still had my cloak’s hood up, hiding most of my face. The only things that stuck out were my dusky blue horn and black muzzle. Mustering my best Equestrian accent, I tried again. “Hello.”

It was still a little rough, but back east in the Outlands, it was common.

“Sounds like y’all needa drink. Here,” he said as he passed me a Sparkle Cola. “On the house.”

“Nice try with the Outer-lands accent. It was a little rough, zebra,” the pegasus mare said, looking at me like I was some kind of idiot, which I probably was. It was interesting to see a pegasus below the cloud cover. Wasteland pegasi weren’t unheard of, they just weren’t a common sight.

“Don’t harass the customers,” the stallion smacked the mare lightly across the back of the head. “They’re few an’ far b’tween an’ we need all we can get.”

The mare rubbed the back of her head, glaring slightly at the earth pony.

“Sorry, sir. Yall’ll hafta forgive ‘er. She’s a bit thick in the head,” he apologized.

“Don’t worry about it...” I sighed, removing my hood and not forcing an accent. My striped face and horn came to light. She already knew I wasn’t a pony, no reason to hide now. The little blue ‘5’ on my EFS stayed blue. If they were going to turn on me, I knew I’d easily be able to take the three of them.

“Oh! Wow... I, um... uh...” the blue pony stammered. Clearly, he was a surprised at the zebricorn standing in front of him and his pegasus friend’s perception.

“Wanna trade?” the little, burnt orange, unicorn colt piped up. He had a crosshair for a cutie mark. I think I knew why he went to hide.

“Yes,” I kindly replied.

“Coverfire, what’r you doin’ o’er here?” the stallion asked. He didn’t sound too happy about the colt coming out from hiding.

“Well, Clips,” Coverfire said, emphasizing the name. “If this unicorn-zebra-thing was goin to do us any harm, I think he would have done it by the time featherbrains over there blew is cover.”

"You need ta follow the rules, buster!” Clips countered.

The flying pony facehoofed and started trotting off to the side of the little argument. She motioned for me to follow with a sharp jerk of her head.

“Goddesses, those two never stop arguing,” She said. Her accent was a little familiar. Slightly shorter consonants, slightly drawn out vowels. She was an Outlander, too! We looked at the other two, still arguing over something something pointless. “The name’s Canteen. Now, before you ask, no, I do not own this caravan. Clips does. But if he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass, then I’ll be running it. As if I don’t already... He’s a good businesspony, but gets easily distracted.” She blew some of her smooth, bright aqua mane out of her magenta eyes.

“Xero,” I said, tapping a hoof to my chest.

“Zero? Zero what? If you don’t have any caps, you better damn well have decent merchandise.”

“No, Xero’s my name. It’s short for Xerophyte.”

“Oh. You zebras always have the strangest names,” Canteen softly chuckled. “But I don’t suppose you’re here to make small talk, are you?”

“Not really.” Each caravan was different. They all had their own personality of sorts. In the background, I could still here Coverfire and Clips arguing.

“Well, follow me,” she said as she lead me behind one of the wagons. “What are you looking for?”

“Ammo for a .44 revolver.”

“The pegasus jumped into the back of one of the wagons and threw an ammo box off the side with a loud grunt. The heavy box landed on the cracked pavement, sinking one of the corners into the ground half a foot.

“Anything else?”

“What do you have for firearms?” I was a little curious. Maybe I’d find a decent sniper rifle.

“Not much, but here’s what I got...” She half jumped, half flew, half glided into the other wagon and pushed a large wooden box to the back edge, kicking it open when it reached its destination. “Come on up.”

With the grace and silence of my zebra ancestors, I put my forehooves on the back of the wagon, pushed off the ground with my hindlegs and caught the edge of the wagon with my rear hooves just enough to get myself up and onto it.

“Well, somepony’s a sneaky one.”

“Yeah...” I definitely wasn’t blushing. Of course I was sneaky. I had zebra blood in me. “Whoa, where did you get this?” I levitated a peculiar looking hunting rifle. It wasn’t a standard caliber. It fired .308 rounds instead of the usual .32. The metal was a sooty black color, while the wooden parts were stained and varnished a deep red. Burned into the wooden stock was that symbol. Three rings and a dagger.

“Got it off some mare two days ago. Half out of her mind when we found her. She told us to ‘Get out of Equestria while we still could. The Resistance will rise again! And the world will be burned in the ash of a sunflower.’” She shook her head. “Crazy... She gave us all her armor, weapons, and ammo before running off.”

“I’ll take the gun and her armor, if you still have it.” The Resistance? Why did that sound familiar? Ugh... Damn that amnesia. There was something in the back of my mind that was screaming... something, but I couldn’t make it out. The red and black armor and gun, the three rings and trench knife insignia, and some kind of ‘resistance’ were all related somehow. “And a few dozen .308 rounds, too.”

“Alright.” She rummaged around the wagon, digging through more wooden boxes and after a minute or so, brought me the goods. While she was doing that, I was going through my saddlebags and taking out things I planned on selling in New Appleoosa. This was going to put a dent in my caps.

In the end, I only spent about two-hundred bottle caps. I informed Canteen about Flintlock’s body and she said that it sounded like her. In return, she told me to keep an eye out for a gang that was harassing travelers along this stretch of highway. The caravan already had a run-in with them. When I asked why they were willing to trade with me, Canteen said that Clips was right. They needed all the traders they passed. We said our goodbyes and Clips and Coverfire started arguing over something unimportant again.

Putting my hood back up, stowing away my black and red hunting rifle and matching leather armor, and putting my new mirrored aviators on , I continued on my way to my destination.

A couple hours, a radscorpion, and a lone raider later, I came across some ponies who had made a blockade out of old wagons, Cantervegas, fencing, and wooden planks. My EFS showed three friendlies, though only one was visible. The roadblock was set up almost like a square hut in the middle of the highway, with a passage going through it. As I came closer, I heard orders being shouted. From inside the makeshift building, emerged two unicorns and an earth pony. They all wore hockey masks with matching symbols. The gang sign looked like a prewar bit with crossbones behind it.

“Well, well, well... What do we have here?” the grey unicorn stallion drawled. “Another humble wastelander just to use our highway?”

“I just want to get to New Appleoosa,” I said simply, not forcing an accent. I didn’t want to fight these ponies.

“Oh, sorry for keeping you then, sir,” he replied. “Go right ahead. It’s that way.” He pointed a hoof behind him, through the roadblock.

I took a single step forward, stopping when a leg was brought in front of me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you think you’re going?” the stallion said in a fake, friendly manner. “You still have to pay the toll.”

“Toll?” This must have been the Toll Gang that Canteen had mentioned.

“Yeah, you know, for us letting you use our highway?” the mint green unicorn mare said. She wore some poor condition leather barding and a sledge hammer across her back.

“Why do I have to pay you? I don’t see your name on it.” I looked around, making sure somepony hadn’t decided to actually paint ‘Toll Gang’ anywhere on the road.

“Oh, a wise guy, huh?” the stallion said, looking at his two companions. “Does this guy think we’re playing a game?”

The mare nodded as she pulled her sledge hammer from a loop on her back. The other stallion, a yellow coated earth pony, smiled grimly. The bottom part of his mask was cut off, allowing him to wield a 10mm submachine gun in his mouth.

“Do you think we’re playing a game? Beatdown seems to think so.” The grey unicorn pulled two small axes from his hip holsters.

“Ets uff im ub a bib, Atches,” the earth pony said around his smg.

“Yeah, lets show this fucker not to mess with the Toll Gang, Hatchets,” the mare, Beatdown, agreed as she spun her sledge hammer in the air with her violet magic.

“Please, I don’t want to fight. It will not end well for you,” I replied back. They wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.

“Oh yeah? You think you’re so tough with your lame cape and dinky ass pistol?” Hatchets said, flicking my hood back with his magic. He jumped back and readied his hatchets with a startled yelp.

“What in Celestia’s fuck are you?!” Beatdown cried.

“Kiw hem!” The yellow stallion yelled around his smg

At once, my EFS when from three blue to three red, and the small gang charged. I dropped into SATS and targeted three shots into the earth pony’s head.

Pewtpewtpewt.

Tweety turned his head into a red, pulpy mess all over the the ground.

Coming out of SATS, I put Tweety away and brought out my combat knife. I threw it at Hatchets and hit him in the shoulder, barely missing his neck. He faltered only a moment, but that was all I needed. I reared up and kicked his small axes out of his magical field. Coming back down, my hooves landed over Hatchets head, stunning him.

Beatdown swung her sledge hammer at me, but wasn’t quick enough with it. A quick punch to her forelegs sent them band backwards with a pop and crunch. She let out a painful scream and dropped the sledgehammer.

An excessively sharp, stabbing pain bolted up my right side, causing me to drop to the ground. Something warm began to run under my cloak. Yay, blood. I looked back only to find that Hatchets had grabbed one if his hatches and threw it at me. My head started to swim as he got closer, ready to finish me off. I couldn’t pass out now; I had to keep fighting. I had to survive. I had made a promise to someone a long time ago. I would never give up. I just needed an opening and this would all be over quickly.

“Yeah! What do you think of that, you fucking freak?!” Hatchets yelled as he continued to near. “You’re so going to die for what you did to Beats and Lemons...” He reared up.

My opening.

In the blink of an eye, I leapt up, pivoting on my front hooves and kicking him squarely in the jaw with the resounding crack of a breaking mandible. I whirled around and caught his throat with my left forehoof, collapsing his esophagus and making him choke for air. He stumbled around as I quickly reared up and wrapped my forelegs around his neck and squeezed as hard as I could. A few seconds later, he stopped effortlessly struggling.

I dropped his limp body on the the dusty road. Not many ponies could beat me hoof-to-hoof; it was a skill I didn’t really appreciate until I was on my own, and there was no one around to protect me.

I turned my attention back to Beatdown. She had crawled back into the roadblock. I found her hiding behind an empty wooden box, curled up in a ball, tears streaking down her face. In her broken forelegs was a radio of some kind.

“P...Pl...Please...d...don’t...k...kill....me...” she blubbered, more tears rolling down her cheeks.

Aggh! Why couldn’t I kill a pony that begged me not to? She tried to kill me. I could kill her. Self defence, right? It would be easy. It would be merciful. She had two shattered forelegs. She wouldn’t survive long, maybe ‘til morning if shock didn’t set in before then. She needed medical help that I couldn’t give her. I could give her something, though.

“Here...” I said softly after a minute of thinking. I used my PipBuck’s inventory spell and found a Med-X and one of my last frag grenades. It was shaped like a metal apple. I dropped them before her. I was out of healing potions, not that they would be any good now. Beatdown looked up, after she finally stopped crying and trying to squeeze into the corner she was trapped in, sniffled, and gave me a slight, sad, smile. She wasn’t going to make it, and she knew it.

“You have until the Med-X takes effect to get the hell out of here.” She said, sounding relieved, yet disappointed. She grabbed the chem in her soft green magic and the grenade pin in her mouth. "Now git outta heer..." she grumbled around the metal, letting the grenade dangle from it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the wooden box was not, in fact, empty, but filled with dried grass, and 'EXPLOSIVES' was painted on the side. A split second later, and my brain registered what the green egg shaped things inside were. Fatpony Mini-nukes... powered by Balefire Eggs.

I sprinted as fast as I could, and snatched up my combat knife (which had broken for some reason), my aviators, and whatever loot the gang had dropped outside. I ran back through the roadblock, and out though the other side. I caught Beatdown raise a foreleg and drop it on the grenade she was holding in her mouth.

Tink.

I had galloped about three seconds before the construction of metal and wood exploded behind me in a blinding white and pink light. I looked back to see the remains of a pink, fiery, miniaturized mushroom cloud. My PipBuck clicked rapidly in protest to the radiation.

In hindsight, it would have been easier and cheaper just to kill Beatdown outright. I didn’t know why I couldn’t just pull the trigger. It made me feel better about myself if I let the pony do themselves in. I think they prefered it. Having somepony else put you out of your misery just seemed weak. By at least having the strength to do it yourself, you can die knowing that you weren’t completely helpless, useless, and worthless. You still had strength. Still, she could have just stabbed the chem in my eye and and blew us both up or something. She did not, however.

It was about an hour after the roadblock that it started to get dark. I needed a place to rest for the night. Again, it had started to rain. The wasteland fall was always the wet season. Luckily, my cloak kept me dry. I scanned the area ahead of me. No sign of New Appleoosa yet. I looked to the left, then to the right, and finally back the way I had just came from.

“Ugh, where to get out of the rain...” I said.

A strange tuba-ish music began to crackle over the light hiss of the falling precipitation. Immediately, I knew that is was one of those damned spritebots. I used them as target practice when I got bored. They were strange things. Round, bug-like robots that blared terrible music of tubas and tambourines.

“You could try Stable Twenty-Four,” somepony replied.

I whipped around and pulled out Tweety. As I had thought, there was a curious, little, flying metal orb. I pressed the .44’s barrel against its dark face-plate. It would be more than enough to tear right through it.

“Whoa, there. I’m not going to hurt you. Just here to help a weary pony.” the spritebot said in rough, deep voice.

“Who are you? Spritebots don’t talk, so you must have hacked it somehow.” I thought this thing might still want to harm me, or just annoy me. In either case, I still was going to kill it.

“You can call me Watcher. Yes, I did hack this spritebo-” the deep masculine voice froze. I could imagine this pony contemplating if what he had just told me was a good idea. I knew technology fairly well, but somepony who could remotely hack a spritebot obviously knew much more.

“Watcher?” I asked after a minute. Was he still there?

“Are you using magic?” he asked back.

“Yes...” What did that have to do with anything? I tightened my magical grip around the revolver. If he was abducting unicorns for some sort of messed up experiment, then I would be more than happy to blow this thing’s circuits out through the top of it’s head.

“So you’re a unicorn. You sound a lot like a zebra. Heh, strange?”

“What’s so strange about that?” A gust of wind caught my hood, making it fall to reveal my striped face and mane and my horn, which was enveloped in it’s bright teal magic.

“Whoa! What in Celestia’s mane are you?!” The spritebot shot back a pony’s length. Apparently, Watcher had a ‘questions first, shoot later’ basis. But since most spritebots didn’t have weapons, and this one was one of those, I levitated Tweety back into its holster.

“I don’t know.” A zony? Zebricorn? Mutant? Why did nearly everypony react to me with ‘what the hell?’ or ‘what the fuck are you?!’ I guess I should be use to it by now, but it still hurt a little. It wasn’t like I really had a choice in what I looked like. I suppose I could dye my coat black. That still left my tail, though. It wasn’t like that of a pony. The hair at the end of it was starting to get a little long. I’d have to trim it up sometime in the near future.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to, you know, freak out,” Watcher replied as I flipped my hood back up. My mane was very wet, now that it was raining harder. “It’s just that zebras don’t normally use unicorn magic.”

“Excellent observation.” Really? I didn’t know that. “You mentioned something about a Stable?”

“Oh, right.” He mumbled something and in the background I could hear terminal keys being tapped at. “There’s an old Stable up ahead, along the cliffside. It was abandoned a couple generations ago, I’m not sure what happened. You should be alright.”

“Thank you, Watcher.” I didn’t like Stables. Not one bit. But it had one thing I was looking for: dryness.

“No problem. Keep on your hooves, though, just in case.” The spritebot fizzled and popped, then continued on its bouncing way, playing it’s terrible tuba-trombone-tambourine music.

“That was... strange.” I said to myself. I looked to the cliffside up ahead. In a flash of lighting, I picked out a cave. That must be the Stable’s entrance.

As I got closer, I stopped. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. There was a river blocking my way. It looked like it was from the rain, and not a permanent waterway. There was no way I was going to even touch the dark, muddy liquid. I’d sink like a rock. Swimming wasn’t in my skillset. If only I could fly. Wait, I could! Sort of.

The river was moving fast. And rising. The remains of a dead tree floated by, it’s gnarled trunk bobbing about in the rushing water. I turned around, trotted about twenty feet from where I was, turned back towards the river, and broke into a full gallop. Just as I returned to the edge of the water, I jumped. At the height of my jump, I caught myself in my telekinesis and let my momentum carry me across. My telekinesis was inequinely strong, especially for one that was not a ‘full blood’ unicorn. Considering I’ve moved auto-carriages, my slightly thin body was nothing.

This little maneuver of mine wasn’t what I would call flying. It was more gliding with style. I couldn’t figure out how to move myself once I was airborne. The direction I was moving when I left the ground was the direction I glided until I let go of myself or my momentum stopped.

I landed on the other side of the river with a muddy splat and immediately slipped face first onto the bank

‘Great... Just great...’ was all I could think. I spat out the mouthful of mud and stared into the dark, rainy sky, letting the rain wash some of the mud off and continued on the mostly-washed-out path to the cave entrance. What I hadn’t noticed before was that the cave was actually downhill slightly from the river, and it was about to flow over. The cave wouldn’t last long for dry cover and would eventually flood.

"Well, then." I turned around, slipped on some more mud, and jumped/levitated/flew across the river again. I let the rain wash me off some more. I was soaked now, but my enchanted cloak still kept me warm. Being warm and dripping wet was, in my opinion, one of most uncomfortable feelings ever.

I was almost certain that New Appleoosa had some sort of tavern or inn or someplace to rest. It was at a major crossroad after all. I trotted my soggy self there. On the way, I could have sworn that I saw something flying through the night, during the light show of lightning. Maybe it was a pegasus, or group of pegasi?. Maybe a dragon. Alicorn? Maybe. They started appearing in the Outlands about ten years ago, but I’ve heard they didn’t start appearing in central Equestria until a year or two ago. I didn't ponder it too much. Equestria was filled with bizarre and unusual things, especially in Hoofington. I was glad I wasn't there or anywhere near there. I've heard stories of monsterponies, whatever an 'ultra-sentinel' was, invisible, life-sucking, energy fields that could liquify a pony if they were not careful, and wars, not just single battles or skirmishes, but full campaigns. Equestria was a strange and dangerous place, but there are places much, much worse.

I kept trudging through the rain. It was absolutely downpouring now. I turned on my PipBuck's light. Another thing mine had... an actual flashlight. It had one light that pointed down, revealing the ground and area directly around me (I call it 'lamp mode') and one that faced outward (that I called 'flashlight mode'). I turned it to lamp mode. Other ponies and creatures could see me easier, but I doubted they would be out in this storm.

It was early, early morning by time I made it to New Appleoosa. 3:27 AM to be exact, was when I made it to the front gate.

BANG!

The night guard shot me. Almost, shot me. He fired toward me and hit the ground a few hooves ahead. I wasn't sure if he was firing a warning or just a bad shot.

"Hey! What was that for?!" I yelled through the rain. It wasn't raining nearly as hard, but it was still kind of hard to see. Another gust of wind blew my hood back. "Fuck it. If I have to keep pulling my hood up every five minutes, then it's just going to stay down." I said to myself. I was wet and tired. I didn't bother with any accent. I just wanted to get out of the rain, and sleep for a day.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you was a raider," the guard pony shouted back. "What business do you have in New Appleoosa?"

"A place to rest. And I have some things to trade. And I have courier business," I replied. Did everypony have to answer questions, I thought. Maybe it was because it was 3:30 in the morning.

"Ok, then. Just don't cause any trouble. The mayor doesn't like ponies messing around her town when the majority of it is trying to sleep. Absolutely Everything will be open at eight and if you're not blind, you can see Turnpike Tavern's sign right over th- "

"FOR LUNA'S SAKE, POTSHOT! WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP?! SOME PONIES ACTUALLY SLEEP AT NIGHT!" A buck from inside yelled out, cutting off Potshot. I had decided to trot on closer to the gate so Potshot and I didn't have to yell. It was a bit uncourteous to do while others slept.

"Case in point..." Potshot said, clearly annoyed. "Ok, open the gate!"

"POTSHOT! SHUT! UP!" the same buck shouted.

"Ugh... I don't get paid enough for this..." Potshot mumbled as I trotted into New Appleoosa. I may have laughed a little.

As soon as I was in, I galloped toward the glowing yellow sign that marked Turnpike Tavern. Once again, I slipped on the mud.

"I am definitely the offspring of the most graceful zebras in the wastes" I said to myself, sarcastically. Zebras were infamously renowned for their hoof-to-hoof combat, stealth, and agility. I had all of them, just not in the rain. I hated the rain, with a burning passion.

After letting the rain wash me off for a third time, I (carefully) trotted to the door of Turnpike Tavern. I grabbed the handle in my teal magic, gave it a twist, and pushed on the door. It didn't open. I rattled the door and handle in my magic.

"It sticks from the rain sometimes," a mare's voice from within called out. "Just give it a good shove."

With the handle still unlatched in my magic, I gave the door 'a good shove' with my shoulder. It still didn't move.

"Wait, wait. It looks like somepony locked it again... give me second." the mare said. She also mumbled something I couldn't hear
over the patter of the rain. Something about late night customers and damned locks...

The door unlatched from inside and flew open. In a flash of lightning, I saw the biggest pony I've ever seen. He was so big, that he managed to startle me, which in turn, caused me to slip on the mud. Again!

"Welcome to the Turnpike Tavern, comrade!" the big brown coated earth pony called out, in the most bizarre sounding voice. He came out and picked me up by the collar of my cloak and put me back on my hooves. "Now, come inside and out of the rain, silly pony. You might catch cold! Ha!" The stallion turned around and went back inside. All I could do was stand there like an oaf. Somepony just picked me up like it was nothing, with his mouth, mind you, cracked a joke, then laughed. All at almost four o'clock in the morning. In the rain. Somepony was apparently in a good mood. I turned off my PipBuck's lamp spells and trotted out of the rain.

When I got inside, I was a little astonished to see that some ponies were already up at the bar. Or perhaps they were still at the bar. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care.
“What’ll it be, stranger?” a mare asked as I trotted up to the counter, sounding quite bored. It was the same pony who told me the door was locked. She was a tanish earth pony with a brown mane. In front of her was an old dress magazine.

“Just a room...” I said quietly. Did I mention I was dripping wet, tired, and really didn't care what other ponies' reaction to me was anymore? So no forced accent. At all.

She sighed. "Okay, that'll be fort-" She looked up from her magazine, probably expecting a zebra. What she saw was a dusky blue and black striped-unicorn-thing.

I gave her my biggest most friendliest smile, showing my ever so white teeth.

"Uh... alrighty... then. Forty-five caps. And don't cause any trouble, or I'll have Shots over there throw you out." She pointed a hoof over to the big earth pony that picked me up outside. In the light of the tavern, I could see that he was a slightly strange looking pony. His jet black mane hung in his eyes and his coat was a little bit longer and shaggier. I looked back to the barpony and brought out a small bag filled with forty-five caps. She took the bag, smiled, and turned to get a key off the nail board

"And here's your key." The barpony said, grabbing the key, with a tag on it, with her mouth. Room number 16. I remembered the hitmare’s note and silver stake in my saddlebag. Should be right next to Flintlock's room. I looked at the nail board, and confirmed the empty spot where the room 17 key should have been.

"Thank you," I replied, giving my head a light nod, and grabbing the key in my magic and putting it in my saddlebag. I looked back at Shots.

He was in the middle of hoof-wrestling another pony, who was using both forehooves and still not making Shots foreleg move. They were sitting on chairs with a few more ponies of various races and colors around them, making bets and passing caps. There were three small glasses full of some sort of clear liquid in front of Shots and his opponent, an only slightly larger than average unicorn buck. I doubted they were taking shots of purified water. With his foreleg still locked in place, he bent his head down, picked up the shot glass with his mouth, flung it back, drank the shot, slammed it on the table, and continued on down the line. Three seconds after the first shot, the last one was slammed back down on the table. He gave his opponent a cocky grin and a soft chuckle. The unicorn's face had the look of something along the lines of 'oh, horse apples', but his lips didn't move. In one fell swoop, Shots’ foreleg came down with such force that the unicorn flew out of his chair, and onto the floor. A few of the shot glasses rolled off the table and shattered against the hard, wooden floor.

"Celestia dammit!" the barpony shouted. "Vodka Shots, if you can't keep it down before eight o'clock, I'm taking away your drinking privileges! Again! Or maybe I'll have to finally fire my best bouncer. I don't want to have to do that."

"Aw, c’mon, Butterscotch," Shots drawled. "You know I don't mean nopony harm."

Shots gave a big smile, got up from his chair, picked the unicorn up by the scruff of his neck, and back to his feet. The two shook hooves and went their separate ways. The rest of the bar was doing whatever they were before. Talking at one table, cards and drinks at another, a shady deal going on in the corner. Shots turned and walked up to me.

"Well, what do we have here? You're the silly pony I picked up outside, no?" He said, lumbering above me. Seriously, he was a full head and a half taller than me. He was big. Massive, really. And intimidating. Very intimidating.

"I, um... uh... Yes?" I looked back and forth, trying to focus on something other than the behemoth in front of me. Nopony had ever just trotted up and talked to me for the heck of it. They always wanted something. And if Shots wanted something, he could take it, whether I wanted him to or not.

"Ha! You really are a silly pony, or... zebra? What are you?" he asked, looking me over. How anypony managed to see with that much mane in their eyes was beyond me. I couldn't even tell his eye color, or even if he had eyes, though I assumed he did.

"Um... Both?" I guessed. I didn't know whether to call myself a pony or zebra. I never really thought about it. I guess it didn't matter. I was myself, whatever that may be, and nopony could change that. Well, except for maybe the Goddess, but I wasn't on good terms with her. Something about telling her to stick her 'Unity' where the sun never shines and that she was fucked up for only allowing 'true unicorns' into her secret little club. And killing one of her alicorns. Or four. That may have had something to do with it, too. Perhaps a story for another time; it's quite entertaining.

"Well... It looks like we got ourselves a 'zebricorn'. Your kind isn't common 'round these parts, nor my parts." Shots said with another chuckle. How could anypony be this happy? Drugs? Alcohol? It just added to the intimidation. And with a name like 'Vodka Shots'...

"Your... parts...?" I said sheepishly.

"Ah, the Motherland! Stalliongrad!" he exclaimed, quickly stepping up beside me and putting his forehoof around my shoulder. "Oh, yes, the freshly laden, virgin snow, the strong mares, the ursas on unicycles, and the vodka! STALLIONGRAD!" There was a harmonious 'Yah!' throughout the bar following his speech. Stalliongrad: home of big ponies, bears, and vodka. Yay... I forced a grin. He was funny, but I was wiped.

"Well, I've been trotting since early yesterday morning, I think I'm going to hit the hay..." I said, lifting Shots' hoof off my shoulders with my magic. Damn, even just his foreleg was heavy.

"Aw, silly zebra-pony tired?"

"Yes. Very." I said with a sigh.

"Very well..." he said, sounding almost disappointed. He trotted back to the center of the bar. "Who's up for round two?!" he asked nopony in particular. Nearly the whole bar broke into cheers. I looked back to see the barpony, Butterscotch, facehoof. I just chuckled and went to my room. The Equestrian wasteland seemed like a good place.

I wandered around the tavern for a few minutes before I realized that I had no idea where my room was. I made my way back to Butterscotch, who said it was the second floor, at the end of the hall. I found it, unlocked the door, and went it.

I turned on the light and almost gasped.

I was pleased to find the room in much better repair than what I expected. The bed was clean and made, complete with pillows and blankets. There were a few bullet holes in the walls, but that didn't bother me... much. They were small arms fire, probably .32's or 10mm, judging from their size. The floor and walls were made of tightly packed, light tan, wooden planks. The headboard of the bed was centered in the middle of the wall to my left. On the far side of it was a small side table, on which sat the lamp that was lighting the room. On the far wall was a small round table and two chairs on opposite sides. The wall to my right was dominated by a dresser, a writing desk, and a vanity mirror.

Right to my... right... was some sort of wooden-stand rack-thing, with four arms about two hoofs long, and four shorter arms, one below each of the longer ones, about one hoof long. I didn't know what to make of it, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I took off my soggy saddlebags and tossed them over to the bedside. I then took off my still very wet cloak and put it on one of the arm-hook things. Maybe it would be dry by tomorrow. I stared at my cloak for a bit. Truly a thing of wonder. It wasn't dirty or soiled, even after slipping in the mud half a dozen times. I looked at the hoof-long slice in the side, where Hatchets had got me. I would fix that tomorrow. I looked at my side were the hatchet had cut. It was a pinkish-purple scar now. In a week or so, you wouldn't be able to tell it was there.

I slowly trotted over towards the bed. I jumped, caught myself in my magic, and when I was over the bed, let myself go and free fell onto the mattress.

"Oh...my..." It was the softest mattress I've ever slept on. I closed and locked the door with my magic, turned off the light, and in less than a minute, I was sleeping... on the most comfortable mattress in the wasteland.

I couldn't breath. When I tried to inhale, I sucked in water. Was it water? It felt slicker, and tasted much more bitter and like chemicals. It burned when I opened my eyes. It burned my hide. Everything burned.A sharp pain in my left rear leg. I flailed my legs wildly, attempting to swim. I couldn’t swim. My leg was stuck under some rubble. I was beginning to slip away. Not physically. Consciously. I heard a muffled splash. Everything was growing dark.

Something moved at my trapped leg. The pain in my leg lessened a bit. I felt a tug on my mane. I was free, moving towards the surface of this... stuff. It burned my whole body, inside and out. Almost like being dipped in acid. And being set on fire at the same time.

I was brought to the edge of the pool of liquid and pulled out. Everything was going darker, much quicker now.
I looked about. I was in the ruins of some prewar building. There was a very large, gaping hole from the rooftop all the way down to our floor. Five... six levels? I couldn't tell for sure. What happened? My vision was almost completely faded. I could make out smears of color and vague shapes.

"Please... please... don't die Xero..." I turned my head toward the zebra. He was bleeding from his muzzle. And his ears. Part of his face was a mangled mess where his eye was. He still had it, but would most likely be blind. His other eye was streaked with pinkish tears. His face, his stripes, so familiar, yet almost alien to me. "Here... drink this..." he said, breathing very heavily and sobbing. The liquid was poured down my throat. I tried to drink, but coughed most of it back up. It tasted like a healing potion mixed with oranges. Everything faded to black. I was so tired...

"Xerophyte? Xero? No. Nonono. NO!" the zebra sobbed. "Don't you die on me! I won't let you die!" I heard something rustle around and paper being quickly turned, a few being torn. Was there a book? Something was being dragged across the ground. There was a sudden, sharp pain all over my burning body, like a thousand needles being stabbed into my hide. I felt... something... then, nothing. Just an unimaginable coldness.

I awoke from the nightmare as I have many times before. I found myself holding my breath, with my eyes clenched shut, and tucked in a ball. I was covered, practically dripping, with sweat. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Where was I? Bed. Walls... Tavern. Good, I was still in the Turnpike. I let out what little air I had in my lungs and slowly drew in a shaky breath. I hadn't had that dream in almost three months. I never wanted to relive that dream. Ever. Living through the nightmare once was enough; it was worse each time.

I rolled onto my side, facing the wall with the door. I reached down to the floor with my magic and felt around. I brought up my canteen and took a drink from it. It tasted ever-so-slightly metallic. And ever-so-slightly irradiated. It wasn't purified water, but it definitely wasn't dirty. Rainwater. I had filled up four of my canteens with it a few days ago and now I was on my last one. My PipBuck clicked twice, indicating two rads. A peek at the device told me it was 5:49 a.m. Later in the morning, I would go to Absolutely Everything and get some more purified water along with some other supplies.

I put the cap back on the canteen and dropped it back next to my saddlebags. Rolling back over away from the door, I took another shaky breath. I felt a warm tear roll down my face.

"I miss you, too... big brother..." I whispered to myself. I closed my eyes, sniffled once, and fell back asleep.

Beep. Beep. Beep...

Beep. Beep. Beep...

I wrapped my magic around my PipBuck and pressed the alarm off button.

Click.

And for once, it turned off without me having to throw it to the moon, or sun, since I used it to wake up in the morning. I looked at the time. 10:30.

I was feeling well rested, despite the dream. I packed everything up, equipped what I needed, and headed out.

I dropped my key off at the bar. Butterscotch wasn't there. Instead, it was some pale blue earth pony with a purple mane. He looked at me with an uneasy grin. I smiled, thanked him for the room, and continued out the door.

"Stop by again, silly zebra-pony!" I heard a familiar Stalliongrad-pony shout out. I shook my head and gave myself a smile after leaving the Turnpike Tavern. I had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

The town was fairly busy with ponies of all colors and kinds trotting about and doing their business. No zebras, though. I expected that.

I managed to find Absolutely Everything rather quickly; It was one of the tallest buildings in town. It was a 'tanker' car on top a box car on top of a passenger car. They were welded together to form a single, towering, building.

The locals in the streets were on their way to do business or others conversing with each other on the porches of their train car homes. For some reason, nearly everypony I passed gave me a wide berth. "Who is that?" I heard some whisper. "What is he?" muttered others. I nearly tripped on a colt that decided to sit right in front of me. I stopped and looked down at him. He looked up at me, with big round eyes.

"Um... Hello?" I said to the grey earth pony. His eyes managed to widen a bit more.

"Uh... Hi..." the colt said sheepishly, clearly intimidated.

"Railright! Get back over here," a mare with a sunhat called out. She was in the porch of one of the train cars a few homes down the dirt road, looking down at something.

"I'm just looking at the freaky striped unicorn, mom!" the colt yelled back.

"Striped unicorns? Really, Railright?" she said. I got the feeling she was slightly annoyed with this colt. She looked up from the book she was reading, and stared at me, with a hint of worry on her face.

"Railright, I said get back here. You don't know if that thing's dangerous," she yelled back in slight alarm.

Thing? I was just... a thing? Yeah, ponies freaked out when they saw me, but they at least asked 'what are you?' afterwards. Why did they freak out? I was most definitely a pony, er... zebra, not a 'thing'.

"I can assure you, ma'am, that if I was dangerous, I would have probably done something by now, without you knowing," I said back at the mare.

Railright was still sitting there in front of me, with big eyes and mouth agape. Was he frozen in fear, or just that curious about me?

"Well, see you around, kid" I told the little colt with a white smile.

"Uh...Yeah, okay," he sounded shaky. In an instant, he was off and running towards the mare with the sunhat. I could faintly hear “Mom! Mom! Mom! Did you see that?” and And then gibberish.

I turned to the Absolutely Everything and went inside. I did not expect to see what I saw.

Absolutely Everything had absolutely everything! And then some! I made my way to the counter. Nopony was there. There was, however, a little silvery dome thing with a button on top. I looked around. There was nopony inside at all. Using my magic, I tapped the little button, more forcefully than I had anticipated.

Ding!

I jumped a little, then smiled. It was a startling, but cheery, kind of sound.

"Are you okay back there?" I asked when a crash erupted from the back room.

A grey ghoul pegasus jumped into the doorway from inside the back room, with a box on her head, and a rear hoof in a bucket. She tried to shake the box off while trying to back out of it, but tripped over the bucket. It was a little surprising to see yet another pegasus in the wasteland. Especially a ghoulish one.

"Here, let me help you with that." She froze. I wrapped my magic around the box and pulled it off. She zipped up to the counter, grabbed a pencil and a block of note paper and wrote something.

'Thank you so much for the help. Welcome to Absolutely Everything! We have absolutely everything.. and more!'

She gave me a curious look as I read it. Perhaps she'd never seen a zebricorn before? Probably, I was one and even I hadn't seen another. Reading the note, I guessed that she couldn't talk.

"You're welcome. You've got quite the store here." I said, looking about. It really was impressive. I looked back to the proud looking ghoul pegasus. Ditzy Doo. I’d heard of the ghoul before. She was famous for her barding upgrades, the Wasteland Survival Guide (which I had memorized), and of course, the Absolutely Everything. One of her eyes started to move up and away. Huh. "You're Ditzy Doo, right?" She smiled and nodded fervently. What she lacked in mane, tail, coat, and... feathers... she made up for in enthusiasm. She wrote something else on her not block.

'The one and only! What can I get for you?' She looked back at me with a smile.

"Actually, I have some stuff to sell." I said, levitating my saddlebags off and onto the counter. I took out most of what was in them. Two 10mm pistols in average quality, a .32 revolver in great quality, a 10mm submachine gun, two hatchets, some miscellaneous odds-and-ends that I didn't sell to Clip's caravan, 3 suits of raider barding with only moderate damage, one belt of 5mm ammo, and nine pre-war bits.

Ditzy stared at the pile of weapons and armor on her countertop. She bent her head down and wrote something else on her note block.

'Will there be anything else?'

"Now that you mention it, I've heard that you're the best at barding modifications on this side of the wasteland. Think you can work some of your magic on this?" I asked as I pulled out my leather barding. It was in very fine condition, but lacked a bit in the 'can protect you from small arms fire' category. I had heard of Ditzy's reinforcing skill a while back from an 'adventurer'. He claimed to have some of the best barding in the wasteland, saying that he had fought a dragon while wearing it. I doubted that it could protect against a dragon, but I did need something stronger.

Ditzy, again, happily nodded and took my barding in her mouth and took it to the back room. A couple seconds later she came out with a shopping cart and pointed a hoof at me, then my clutter on the table, then the cart. I wrapped what I wanted to sell in my magic and placed it in the cart. There was a faint chime on my PipBuck, which received a weird look from Ditzy (okay, more weird than what might have been usual). I brought it up and looked at it. On the black and white screen, it said I had dropped 983 caps of equipment.

"Does... 983 caps sound good?" I asked. I loved my partly broken PipBuck.
Ditzy looked at me, then the pile of equipment, than back at me, smiled, but shook her head. She zipped back over to her noteblock.

'How about 183 caps, after the barding reinforcement?'

“Eight-hundred caps for a barding upgrade? You're that good?" That was steep price for some simple barding reinforcements.

Ditzy nodded again. She flew up to the top of one book case and pushed a pony mannequin in some barding, off of it. She flew back down and put the mannequin back upright.

"What are you doing?" I hadn't the foggiest idea. She gave me a look that said 'Give me a second'.

She ducked under the counter and brought up a pistol. It was one I recognized. She took to her noteblock again.

'Demonstration. This is a modified 10mm pistol with a silencer. The clip is alternated with HP and standard rounds. Observe.'

Ditzy didn’t look any more fierce with one of the wasteland’s most popular firearms in her mouth. She fired four rounds in quick succession. Surprisingly, the armor didn’t buckle under the strain of the bullets hitting the same spot. Instead, they all bounced off the chest plate, with the first three landing on the ground in front of the mannequin, and the fourth one flying out the window. The large pane of glass shattered in a flurry of tiny, broken shards. A second later, somepony burst through the door.

"Ditzy? Are you alright?" cried the lilac unicorn. Her mane was a peachy color.

Ditzy looked at her, the still smoking pistol in her mouth. She dropped it on the floor, smiled and quickly nodded her head.

"Another one of you 'demonstrations'?" the unicorn asked. Ditzy was still nodding her head.

"You NEED to get bullet proof glass if you keep shooting out your own windows." Ditzy just smiled and shrugged. The unnamed mare shook her head and sighed, then left.

"Who was that?" I asked.

'Lily, the town's appointed mayor.' she wrote down.

"So, how does a hundred, eighty-three caps sound?" She really was that good.

Footnote: Level up!

New Perk: Zebricorn's Glare - Being a zebricorn has its pros and cons. You are more intimidating to lesser foes, but some ponies just don't like you, and will fight or flee for no apparent reason. You also gain special speech options when talking to other ponies and zebras of both sexes. Who knows, maybe this will come in handy.

Bonus Perk: Derpy's Mindset - Haters gonna hate. Given to you when you take Zebricorn's Glare, this extra perk makes you not give two horse apples about what others think of you. If they don't like you, so what? There are certainly others that do, and that's what counts.

Race note: You're not quite a unicorn, but you're not quite a zebra either. You have access to some skills and perks from both races and some that are unique to you, and only you (such as Zebricorn's Glare). You are unable to gain access to some perks from either race, too, such as Memory Orb Master and Striped Sprint

Skill Notes:
S - Strength........... 5
P - Perception...... 6
E - Endurance...... 5
C - Charisma........ 6
I - Intelligence...... 7
A - Agility............. 8
L - Luck................ 4