"Hey, Click! Pulse says to wake up now!"

I awoke to the sound of my youngest sister's voice. Apparently I'd slept through my alarm again, something that my older sister (though still younger than me) attributed to too much soda and not enough exercise.

Still only semi-conscious, I rolled over to look at her. Instead, I saw a tiny hellhound holding a bloody knife standing next to my bed.

I was wide awake after that. I instinctively grabbed a pillow with my telekinesis and swung it, realizing only when it was too late that my target was far too short to be a real hellhound and even if it was full sized there was no reason for something with razor fingers to use a knife.

"Ow!" the not-hellhound whined as she dropped her mask and paint covered rubber knife. "I'm telling!" As I would have known if I'd been truly awake, it was just my aforementioned little sister, Spark. She was an earth pony filly with a cyan coat that covered a layer of baby fat. The chubbiness made her look even cuter than many other fillies, a trait that she took advantage of quite frequently to get away with her constant pranking. Honestly, I was baffled at how her flanks weren't already adorned with whoopee cushions or joy buzzers. I'm not trying to criticize her though; she knew where to draw the line with her pranks, not to mention that she was the sweetest filly I knew.

I rolled my eyes and got out of bed. Admittedly, that had been kinda funny, plus I was wide awake now.

No sooner did I walk out my door than my other sister, Pulse, called from downstairs. Even though she was my sister (and three years younger than me!) she'd basically taken over the role of 'Mom' ever since our actual mother was killed by raiders. Naturally Dad had tried first, but we'd decided against it after he nearly burned down the house trying to mop the floors. I tried too, being the oldest, but I nearly flooded the house trying to cook dinner. Pulse, meanwhile, was able to fit into the role with ease. She was a blue mare with an orange mane and, like myself, had inherited Mom's unicorn genes. Like the rest of our family, she was a skilled tinkerer. Her cutie mark was a wrench with wings, representative of her lifelong dream to make mechanical wings for earth ponies and unicorns. "Click Click, did you hit Spark?"

"It was with a pillow, and she came at me with a rubber knife!" I really did feel sorry for hitting her, but it's not like she shouldn't have seen it coming.

"I know," she conceded. "But still, you know how hard your telekinesis can hit. Just be gentler with her, okay? Anyway, Apple Whiskey came by earlier. He needs you to go fix his radio as soon as possible today."

“Alright,” I said back as I made my way to the bathroom. I was just as good with repairing machines as the rest of my family, and communications devices were my specialty. Naturally, if anyone in town had a broken radio, I was the one to fix it. It was hardly an exciting or challenging job, but hey, it’s a living.

I turned the bathroom radio on to listen to as I checked my appearance in the mirror (we had radios in pretty much every room in our house, all of them built from scratch by one of us). Like most radios in New Appleloosa, it was tuned in to DJ Pon3.

“Good morning Equestria! Say, I’ve got a question for all of you out there; do you know just where it is that you belong, what your true destiny is? Apparently this guy figured out where his place was. I just hope he got there before the megaspells hit! Here’s Michael Colton singing Go the Distance.”

An inspiring tune that seemed to be too dramatic and serious to come on immediately after a megaspell joke began to play, which then gave way to some outright angelic singing.

I looked at my reflection, my dark sienna mane in disarray. I styled it into a sort of punkish look, having it part to the right of my horn to slightly obscure my eye. Lookin' good, Click, lookin' real good! Then I moved on to brushing my cobalt blue coat, carefully avoiding the small scar on my chest. Lesson learned from that: don't screw around with robots. From that day on I was scared to death of them. Last, I got my tail, back legs, and cutie mark. The latter depicted a telegraph device, a relic even by pre-war standards that I had seen only in books.

Perhaps it was just the fact that I was still a bit sleepy, but my eyes (bright yellow, by the way) had a rather sad look today. Maybe sad wasn't the right word, but I certainly wasn't happy. My life was far from bad of course: I lived in a safe settlement, had a big two story boxcar house, and had steady work, but that was all I had. I'd spent my entire life up to this point just going through the motions of daily life, fixing a radio here, tuning up somepony's battle saddle there. Recently, I'd come to realize that I'd done nothing to be genuinely proud of. I wasn't even good at inventing like Pulse and Dad, I just fixed stuff. That Michael Colton song about fulfilled destiny and making your way in the world certainly wasn't making me feel better about it either. Let's face it; my life was boring, and as such I was bored with it!

Ah well, nothing I could do about it but let the feeling pass, I supposed.

I finished up by brushing my teeth, which were... well, let's just say they matched my eyes (also from too much soda, according to Pulse), but at least they were all straight. Grabbing my tool belt from my room and a box of Fancy Colt Snack Cakes from the kitchen for a quick breakfast, I headed over to Turnpike Tavern.

“Is that radio fixed yet?” called a boisterous buck from across the tavern. I had figured that there wouldn’t be very many ponies here drinking this early in the morning, but I hadn’t accounted for the night watch that had just gotten off duty. One of them, the one who yelled at me, was already pretty sloshed. Besides them, there was that pegasus that had been hanging around town, a local mare that had decided that it was never too early for a martini, and of course the town drunk, Two Moons. Apple Whiskey was behind the counter, leisurely polishing some glasses.

“Hold your horses! I’ve almost got it!” I called back. Heh, ‘Hold your horses.’ What an odd expression.

I made one final adjustment and turned the radio on to test it before I closed it back up. It worked just as well as it would have 200 years ago, just catching the end of some Sapphire Shores song. Apple Whiskey thanked me and handed me 75 caps, 20 of which I gave right back. I figured I'd earned a bit of Sparkle Cola. Sure, I had a stash at home already, but that stuff was all the way back at home!

“Hey, can that Sapphire Shores sing or what?” DJ Pon3 exclaimed over the radio. “Anyway, time for a bit of news. Remember those weird spritebots that I mentioned a couple days ago? Well, as it turns out, the rumors that they were built by Red Eye or the Enclave or tentacle monsters from the fifth dimension were all way off. Earlier today, some technological prodigy contacted me claiming that he’s found out some way to imitate the radio relay abilities of Red Eye’s spritebots and built these new ones to allow new radio stations to play in Equestria, just as long as one of those spritebots is in the area. Apparently, a few ponies have already taken advantage. So if you see one of these new spritebots, please destroy it so I have less competition. Ha! Just kidding! I say welcome to the airwaves, newbies! I haven’t personally had a chance to check any of the new stations yet, but according to the spritebots’ creator, the relay effect only works on the frequencies from 30 to 100, so turn your dials there if you want to give any of the new stations a listen. For those of you who’d rather stick with this old fashioned DJ, here’s one of my classics…” the DJ’s voice then gave way to one of his usual tracks.

"Hey, Click, would you mind checking those out? I'm curious," Apple Whiskey asked, as I was the one still closest to the radio.

"Yeah, no problem." I turned the dial to 30 and started working my way up.

When I hit the first station, frequency 37.8, the static gave way to some kind of creepy organ music. Eventually the instrument was joined by an echo-y voice, or perhaps several voices in unison, who quietly said one weird zebra-ish sounding word, repeating it every few seconds.

“Koyaanisqatsi…

Koyaanisqatsi…

Koyaanisqatsi…

Koyaanisqatsi…”

“I don't get it," one of the patrons said finally. I don't think any of the rest of us did either. I looked to Apple Whiskey, who nodded for me to keep going.

The next channel, I noticed, was frequency 66.6. I guess they wanted something easy to remember. The music was pretty strange, not to mention loud and guitar heavy. Most ponies didn't seem to know what they thought of it until the actual singing started... Let's just say in involved a lot of very angry, naughty language. Instinctively I turned the dial away, something that nopony else seemed to have a problem with.

The last station, 94.4, wasn’t anywhere as good as the DJ, but at least it wasn’t zebra chanting or random obscenity. It mostly consisted of weird technological sounding beats and minimal lyrics. I sort of liked it, but most of the ponies in the bar didn't seem to be into it. Apple Whiskey motioned to move on.

I started turning the radio back to DJ Pon3, but on the way I caught another station. This frequency was actually 123.4, far outside of the spritebots' range, and seemed to be from a short wave broadcast instead. The voice on it belonged to a refined stallion. “Greetings, New Appleloosa. My Name is Chess, founder and CEO of the Checkmate Company. We have been commissioned to make a delivery to the north of here. It will take about five days to reach our destination, and we are looking for a couple of extra ponies to come with us, such as couriers, caravan guards, or even just wanderers waiting to see which way the wind will take them. No experience is necessary. You must bring your own provisions, but feel free to scavenge a bit on the way, provided you do not stray too far from the group. There should be no more risk than is inherent in traveling the wasteland, and upon completion of the delivery, each member of the team will receive 200 caps. Keep in mind that we will NOT be returning to New Appleloosa afterward, so if you wish to come back, you must do so on your own. Should you perform well, you may be offered a permanent position in the Checkmate Company. Any interested parties can find us camped a short trot away from New Appleloosa’s north gate. Please come promptly, we will be leaving as soon as we have enough ponies. Message Repeats. Greetings, New Appleloosa…”

"Huh... That might be good for a change o' scenery, at least" the pegasus muttered.

"What's it like out there, anyway?" I asked. I hadn't left New Appleloosa in years. I'd practically forgot what the outside was like.

"Hell," he said flatly. "But it's a Hell with lotsa stuff in it, not t' mention a lot of wrongs that need rightin'."

I furrowed my brow. Something about what he said struck a chord with me. "Do you think going out there would be a good way to..." I searched for the right words, "fulfill yourself?"

"Lemmie put it this way," he said. "Ah used to live up in the clouds, with the Enclave, and the thing with them is that they couldn't care less about ponies besides themselves. That jus' didn't sit right with me. Stayin' safe up there while ponies were dyin', what kinda life is that? Not one ya could be proud of. It was selfish, not to mention dull. So, against everypony else's advice and mah own common sense, Ah came down here. Very first day down here Ah saw these raiders harassin' a caravan, and four gunshots later Ah'd saved some ponies' lives. It'd been dangerous, but Ah've seen amazing new things everywhere Ah go. How's that for fulfillment?"

I don't think he'd had any idea how many chords he'd just struck with me. That life wasn't dull, it wasn't routine, and it could potentially help others on top of that! Sure, I'd hardly ever been in a position to use a weapon, so I probably wouldn't be out saving lives like this pegasus, but clearly that Chess guy could use my help at least.

Still, if someone had been there to help the day my family had been attacked...

I pushed the thought away. I didn't have the skill for heroics. Everything else about the Wasteland though...

"Where did that radio guy tell us to meet up?" I asked.

"Out the North Gate and keep goin'" said the pegasus with a knowing smile. "I take it Ah'll be sein' you there?"

"Possibly," I replied. I was a bit more sure than that, but there were still three other ponies I needed input from. "What's your name by the way?" I know I'd heard it before, since he'd actually been to our house once or twice when Pulse asked to study his wings. I think it was 'Tragedy,' or 'Catastrophe,' or...

"Calamity," he said, offering a hoof. Meh, close enough.

"Click Click," I replied, taking it.

"Well, Ah'm gonna get ready to go. Think about if you wanna really do this though, it ain't gonna be safe or easy," he said.

"I will. If I decide to go, I'll see you there." I finished my soda as he left, then went home.

When I walked in, the first thing I saw was my dad sitting at the kitchen table building something while Spark was playing with a couple of dolls nearby. My dad was the type of guy who never wanted to do things in the conventional way. Every day he went down to Absolutely Everything and searched for useless garbage just so he could challenge that 'uselessness.' I couldn't tell what his current project was yet, but it involved a steam gauge assembly, a pressure cooker, and some rail spikes. Judging from the look on Dad's face, it had some very 'fun' applications.

Dad was an earth pony; kind of on the large side (meaning he was basically a tank with paternal instincts) and had a black but graying mane. His pelt was a shade of orange that was somewhat fittingly comparable to a warning sign and his cutie mark was a trio of interlocked gears. Notably, the right side of his face was hideously disfigured, caused by of one of his inventions called the Uberclock Mk. I. It was meant to be the world's most effective alarm clock. To be fair, it did wake him up. Fortunately, the Uberclock Mk. II was much safer, and less explosive, due to not running on microfusion cells. I know it sounds bad for me to say this, but I still wasn't quite used to his face yet, even after several months. I mean, I learned to tolerate it, since he was my dad and all, but I still made a conscious effort to mostly look at him from the left side.

"Hey Click! How's it going?" he said, accidentally doing something that caused his creation to shoot a rail spike through the ceiling. I heard Pulse yelp from the upper floor. "Oops... You okay up there, Pulse?"

She ran downstairs holding a book with the spike through it. "Dangit, Dad! How many times have I told you, no firing experimental weapons in the house!"

"Sorry!"

"Uh, guys, I have something I wanna run by you when you're done talking, it's kind of important," I said. "Spark, you should hear this too.

"Sure Click, what do you need?" Dad said, eager to change the subject.

Pulse set the book down and sighed. "Fine, but seriously Dad, be careful. What is it?"

Spark galloped up and sat down between them, looking curiously at me.

"So what is it? Did you finally find a marefriend?" Dad asked. "Is she hot?"

"I bet she's really hot," Spark said, only half aware of what she was talking about.

I shook my head. "No, unfortunately. I was thinking about maybe it's time I looked for a life outside New Appleloosa, at least as an experiment. Specifically, taking a job escorting a caravan in the Wasteland for a little bit."

Pulse's eye twitched. "The Wasteland? Are you kidding? There's raiders and slavers and monsters and... raiders out there!"

Dad, on the other hoof, seemed relatively unfazed, aside from an initial look of surprise. "So, looking for a bit of adventure, I take it?"

"Yeah," I said. "There's these guys I heard on the radio looking for caravan guards. It wasn't anything major, they just wanted some extra eyes and ears."

"Well, that sounds like as good a first experience as any out there," Dad said.

"What? Dad, how could you be okay with this?" Pulse asked. "We're safe in here! If he goes out there, he could die!"

Spark gasped, but Dad put a hoof on her shoulder and calmed her down. "Pulse, Click isn't going to get shot the second he steps outside. I know, the Wasteland isn't the nicest place to be, but plenty of traders and scavengers live out there their whole lives. Plus, Click's smart, and that's the most important thing you can be out there."

"But what about... you know, Mom..."

"Pulse, the day I lost your mother was the lowest point of my life, but the highest point was when I met her and had the three of you. That never would have happened if I hadn't left home and met her while I was traveling."

"Oh, I get it, he's going out there to get a hot marefriend," Spark said.

Let's hope so... I thought. "Mostly I think I just need a change of scenery, but don't worry, Pulse, I'll stay safe. I'm just guarding a caravan, not looking for minefields to tap-dance in."

She sighed, still obviously worried, but it was clear she had no other arguments.

Well, the hard part of the conversation was over, I figured. "So I guess I should start getting ready, huh?"

"Wait, you're leaving now?" Pulse asked.

I nodded. "I know, I kinda found out last minute too."

Dad shrugged. "Well, we'll have to make this quick then. Fortunately, I got most of the stuff you'll need." He ran upstairs to his room, then came back down with a box. "If you're going out there I want you to have every advantage I did." He set the box at my feet and opened it. Sitting inside, right on top, was something I hadn’t seen for years: Dad’s PipBuck. He wore it all the time before coming to New Appleloosa, but when we settled down it became unnecessary. It had been handed down for generations since my great-great-great-et cetera-grandfather took it with him when he left Stable 73. Where other PipBucks would have the engraving “PipBuck 3000,” this one bore the name ‘Click Clack.’ Apparently its original owner, one of my ancestors and part of the inspiration for my name, knew a spell to alter text and put his name on it, and nopony since him had been able to change it back. It was a nice unique touch, but that little ‘a’ where my ‘i’ would be was going to bug me. I picked it up and slipped it on, then Dad dug out a little tool from the box and used it to tighten it the rest of the way.

“This thing is going to be your best friend out there, Click,” Dad told me as all sorts of weird blue displays popped up in my peripheral vision. Now that was going to take some getting used to, especially as it started feeding me a barrage of notifications about all the 'DLCs' I had installed, not that I knew what that meant. “Don’t let it be a crutch, but don’t underutilize it either." Dad continued, "I’ve heard dozens of stories over the years about ponies who are either alive because they had one of these, or dead because they didn’t.

“By the way, back in Stable 73 there was some techie that figured out how to hack these things, so all the PipBucks from 73 have a few extra features in them that the others won’t.” As he talked, I looked through the different menu screens and buttons on it. Apparently I had Neutral Karma, 260 Hit Points, and my glasses granted +2 to Perception. Again, no idea what that meant. Most of the important things were pretty self-explanatory though, like the inventory sorter and EFS.

Also in the box was a suit of sturdy looking leather barding. At first I doubted that it would fit me, seeing as it used to be my Dad's and he was freaking huge, but to my surprise it was actually just right when I put it on. Also inside was an old shotgun with 40 rounds of ammo (the PipBuck referred to it as a “Sturdy Caravan Shotgun.”) I turned to my family and let them see. "So, how do I look?"

"Not bad, Click, not bad," Dad said, looking impressed.

Spark hopped up in excitement. "Yeah! You'll have no problem getting that hot marefriend now! Plus you look like you could take on a hundred thousand raiders all at once!"

Pulse chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I bet he could. Still, are you sure you're ready for this, Click? Raiders won't play around. If you go out there, you have to accept that you will have to kill them, or be killed."

“I know," I said. I thought about all the stories I’d heard about raiders, and how much pain they caused for innocent ponies. Mostly, I thought about Mom… I kind of hoped I’d get to use the shotgun on more than just bloatsprites and radhogs. "I'm as prepared as I could at this point."

“Oh, one last thing…” Dad said as he trotted back upstairs. What would he have left to give that wasn’t already in that box? He came back down holding a piece of paper with the schematics of one of his inventions on it…

“Is this… Dad, what do you think I’m going to be doing out there that would require a plasma time bomb?” I asked, gawking at the old schematics for the Uberclock Mark I.

“Hey, you never know,” Dad shrugged. “But it’s better to have it and not need it than vice versa.”

“I suppose so,” I said, humoring him as I used the PipBuck to copy the design into a digital file. I made sure to label it 'NOT A REAL CLOCK,' just to be safe. "So, I suppose that's about it then. I should probably get going."

"Wait!" said Spark. "You forgot one more thing!"

"What?"

She ran up and jumped at me, wrapping her forelegs around my neck. "I love you!"

Okay, that was freaking cute. "I love you too, Spark."

"Hey, let me in there," Pulse said, hugging both of us.

Then I heard Dad's voice. "Room for one more?" There was just enough time before he joined us for us all to brace ourselves against the very real risk of broken bones. As I felt my ribs bruising under the weight of their affection, I began to feel homesick even before leaving.

Once Dad loosened his grip enough to let us inhale, I managed to utter "I'm gonna miss you guys. As soon as I can, I'll try to write back."

"You better. I don't wanna have to come out there myself to make sure you're safe," Pulse said, finally lightening up a little bit. "Because I will, and then you really won't be safe." She smiled playfully.

"Now don't worry. He'll be fine, he's got my genes," Dad said.

"But you didn't give him any pants," Spark said. Really, she used that joke? "By the way, Click, can you please bring me back a souvenir? Do it and I'll prank you really hard when you come home!"

"Don't you mean 'or?'" I asked.

"No."

I chuckled. "We'll see if I come across something you'd like. No promises."

"Alright... I'm still pranking you though! It'll be a really big thing to celebrate you coming back!"

"I'll look forward to it, then. I should really get going though..." Finally, I decided to just rip off the band-aid and get going. I had planned on buying some food on the way out, but Dad and Pulse would have nothing of that. They filled my saddlebags as full as they could with provisions. The only thing I was lacking in was Sparkle Cola: only fifteen bottles for a five day trip. I'd have to stretch that quite a bit.

At last we couldn't prolong it anymore, and with one final round of goodbyes and I love yous, they sent me off. As I closed the door behind me, I knew that even if the Wasteland didn't work out, I’d always be able to find a home back here.

As I continued a couple miles out past the town's gate, I saw a large boulder with a group of ponies nearby, including Calamity, as well as a cart with an enormous box on it pulled by a pair of brahmin. I approached the group and one of them, a white unicorn buck in recon barding with a well kempt forest green mane, came up to meet me.

“Hello! You here ‘cuz of the ad?” he asked me. Based on his voice, he wasn’t the same pony from the radio.

“Yup. I’m Click Click, but you can just call me Click,” I replied.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Bishop. Come on, Chess will want to talk to you.”

He led me to another pony standing near the cart. This pony (who I assumed was Chess) was an earth pony with a mane and coat of ebony and ivory, respectively. He was dressed in what appeared to be a Kevlar vest and a red tie (Kevlar and a tie? I wouldn't have thought that would work, but he wore it well). His cutie mark was a white king chess piece. Notably, I realized, he wore a PipBuck.

“Chess,” Bishop addressed him, “We got another guard. His name’s Click Click.”

“Excellent,” Chess said, approaching us. “So, Click Click, do you have any experience in the Wasteland?”

“No, but I’m a quick study,” I responded.

“That will be fine. We don’t exactly need veterans for this job. Just ponies who have four legs and can shoot.”

“That would be me.”

“Confident. I like that; welcome aboard,” he said approvingly before turning to Bishop, “How many ponies is that now?”

“With Calamity, Stellar, Tricky, and now Click Click, we have four, not including me, you, Chisel, and Knight.”

“Alright, that should be enough then. Tell the others it’s time to go.”

As Bishop went trotted off to the others, I turned to Chess and asked, “So Chess, where is it we’re going exactly?”

“It's a place called the Dolewich Building up in Whinnyapolis. A few... interesting ponies there commissioned us to deliver a statue for them. Now come on then, I want to get a few miles worth of travel in before nightfall.”

I followed him as he turned and led the group toward Whinnyapolis, leaving New Appleloosa behind. Little did I know that it wasn’t just my home that I was leaving, but every last shred of normalcy in my life, as what should have been a relatively small and simple journey transformed into an unforgettable trek into the Wild Wasteland.

Footnote: Level One

Click Click's stats

SPECIAL

Strength-3

Perception-3

Endurance-8

Charisma-4

Intelligence-8

Agility-7

Luck-6

Tag Skills

Firearms

Melee

Repair

Traits

Four Eyes: Permanent -1 to base Perception, but all glasses grant a bonus of +2.

Built to Destroy: You're hard on your enemies, but just as bad to your weapons. You have a +3% chance to score critical hits, but your weapons wear down 15% faster.

Spells

Communication based spells such as ventriloquism, voice augmentation, and sound recording, among others.

Next time on Fallout Equestria: Wild Wasteland, Click and the Checkmate Company are forced to take shelter from a sudden rain storm, but fortunately are able to hide in the abandoned Stable 97, which Chess has been using as a safehouse for quite a few years. It should be completely safe... but if it were, that would make for a rather boring story, wouldn't it?

Author's Notes:

Well there’s the prologue, hope you like it so far, cuz it only gets better from here; most of the Wild Wasteland type stuff just couldn't happen yet due to plot reasons. Anyway, I should take this opportunity to point out a few things about this fic that I think you might want to know. The main thing is that all of the other FO:E stories aside from the original are only semi-canon to this one. I may give a shoutout involving the goings on down in Hoofington or to everypony's favorite slave, but I have plans for this fic that just wouldn't fit in with them, unless there were, for example, multiple sets of Flim Flam Brothers running around in the pre-war era... Heaven forbid. Also, keep in mind that even if this is going to be funnier than most FO:E stories, this still IS an FO:E story, so Click's adventure won't be all fun and games. The shit will hit the fan at some point; probably several points, in fact.

Now you may wonder why Click Click doesn't have the Wild Wasteland trait... Well, I always thought it was stupid that it was a trait, I figured it should have been a gameplay setting, like Hardcore mode. He will get it later though.

In other news, those of you with tumblr accounts ought to hit up this series' official tumblr, which will give readers the chance to have a more in-depth look at the Wild Wasteland's cast and their place in the Wasteland. Also, those with Deviantart accounts can watch the series here where I will be posting character sheets and other little bits of just-for-fun art.

For those of you who wanna broaden your horizons a bit, you might notice that some of the shoutouts and references in this fic refer to things outside the range of My Little Pony and Fallout. Down here in the Author's Note section, I may point you toward some other interesting things that I've come across that the fic references, or even things that aren't in the fic that I just happened to be thinking about at the time. For starters, the title was a Linkin Park song, the musical excerpts in this chapter were from Go the Distance by Michael Bolton, Koyaaniqatsi by Philip Glass (taken from the soundtrack of the Godfrey Reggio film also called Koyaanisqatsi), Down with the Sickness by Disturbed, and a ponified version of Barbara Streisand by Duck Sauce.

Finally, I must make time for the mushy stuff: I’d like to say thanks to everyone who’s giving this fic a shot, and second I want to thank my editor Tutis, prereaders Blueberry-Twist and Trivial, and my sister, Ninjazane, because Pulse is loosely based on Pulse Generator, an OC of hers. Also, I obviously have to give a big thanks to Kkat, Lauren Faust, the team behind the Fallout series, and all the other people who laid the groundwork for the Fallout Equestria fandom. Lastly, I'd like to make a dedication to those affected by Hurricane Sandy. While they all got through it safely, my whole team except me lives on the east coast, and they were lucky compared to many other people, especially those who lost their lives.