Galena watched Chaff’s mouth wag several times before she spoke. “Well, whaddya think? Pretty frickin’ sick, right?”

“I…” Chaff mumbled as she half-twirled, half-tripped in the middle of the memorabilia. The floor hid itself well underneath meticulous piles of history. Who needed floor space when one slept in the midst of a thousand memories? “It’s, uh … wow.”

The soft corners of Galena’s beak jumped upward. “I know, right? Sorry I had to blindfold you. I totally trust you, Chaffy, but there’s some crazy, freaking tech in here that I’m sure those ‘friends’ of yours would love to get their hooves on.”

“You know I won’t ever tell, Lena. Not that I have a lot of friends to tell. But I understand why you’re hesitant.”

“Oh, no! Chaffy! Don’t get all poopie-pants on me! I mean, come on. I’m your friend. Isn’t that enough for you?” Galena gave her as friendly a wink as an obligatory carnivore could manage. Chaff shot back a sheepish grin. “I’m mostly talking about the freaking recollectors. They can like, mind-rape you. Snatch a memory right out of your head without your consent. Of course, I’m not even sure the Steel Rangers would have any black opals to write onto. Or even know what they are. It’s like, crazy you know? How much is left forgotten. Just left lying on the ground. Unwanted.” Memories sprouted up. Galena picked up the mental pruning shears and made short work of them, smirking worriedly at Chaff. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Chaff chuckled. “Well, that’s one of the reasons you brought me here, right?”

Galena snapped her talons. “Durr! I totally forgot!” She snaked through sharp hallways of her ultra-modern, concrete and glass house, scarcely touching the floor. Flying up the suspended stairs, she landed in her bedroom. “Come on up, yo!”

Gentle clicks of chaff’s hooves on the stairs were followed by soft patter when she stepped inside the room. “Wow, this is a nice rug, Galena.”

“It really ties the room together, huh?” Galena winked, but Chaff’s squinting and tilted head let her know the country bumpkin had missed the reference entirely. The closet door swung open and Galena heaved out a modern-looking graphite case. It was the kind of case only somepony’s rich, Enclave uncle would have. Adorned with more latches and locks than a sado-masochist’s locker, it looked utterly out-of-place surrounded by faded movie posters and memorabilia. “Anyway, here it is. Or really, its case… Here, let me stop talking and just open it.”

Various clicks and ratchets accompanied the unlatching of the case. The drama decrescendoed, however, when Galena tried in vain to imitate the hiss of a pressurized steam valve as she opened the case. “There you go,” she said at last.

The recollector itself looked like a gas mask had mated with an empty engagement ring. Several black opals sat empty in the case, perhaps wishing to store a powerful memory. One glowed with a nebulous, colorful starfield swirling around inside. Chaff picked it up.

“Wow,” Chaff breathed, absentmindedly. “And this is it? This is the memory?”

Galena nodded excitedly. “Yup, yup. Let’s get you strapped in.”

“Is there anything weird I should expect?” Chaff asked as Galena was making the last adjustments to the strap.

“This will be the strangest sensation you’ve ever had in your life, I guarantee it.” She picked up the orb and spun it on the tip of a talon. “You are going to be in another pony’s memories. You’re going to feel what they felt, smell what they smelled, saw what they saw- everything. You’ll still have your own consciousness and memories, but you’ll feel almost like you’re trapped inside another body.”

“Woah.”

Galena made sure to have Chaff lie all the way down. “Yeah, dude. It’s even weirder when it’s a different species than you. Or sex.” Galena ground her beak together as her feathers ruffled, looking away sheepishly. “Of course, I have some thoughts as to what to use these other orbs for…” Chaff raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, have a nice trip.”

With that, Galena thrust the orb into the awaiting arms of the recollector, flicked several switches and pressed the big red button on the side, hurling Chaff into history. Galena watched her shake and shudder gently for a short time to make sure she didn’t have any severe reactions. Satisfied, she flew downstairs, eager to check up on the root beer she was brewing. She smiled, knowing how good a cold mug of root beer tasted after being trapped inside somepony else’s mind.

Her back itched. She moved to scratch it, or tried. Paralysis. Years of learned instinct assumed full control. Chaff shook in her mind, bucking impotently against unseen forces holding her down. Trapped.

A back not her own wriggled on the couch, assuaging the itch. She attempted to close her eyes, but quickly realized this was also impossible.

Galena said I’d feel trapped, she thought. She took solace knowing she actually thought that herself.

The body was wrong. Heavy head. It was balanced differently. Top heavy. Touch fell away, though, when she was forced to stare at a familiar face.

Oh … my …

It was Fate, in the flesh. Granted, she was wearing the frilliest dress in Equestria, but the nonchalance dripping from her eyes was unmistakable. Fate stood nearly in profile. Her immaculate appearance was breathtaking. Years of peering at her own dirty face through broken mirrors left Chaff choking on her own dusty reality.

She begged her other senses to grab her attention. They were happy to oblige.

>>Nein,<< said a voice to her left. The pony whose memory she was in mercifully turned her head. The pony she was staring at now was no less clean, and far more style-savvy, albeit somehow more silly. Like when an artist goes overboard with a sculpture or painting.

>>Nein,<< the spectacled earth pony continued. >>Bist du blöt? Ach! Du hast keine Ahnung von Mode. Ja! Ich sagte es. Weil es wahr ist.<<

It bewildered Chaff to hear a foreign language other than San Palomino. She had originally thought the caravaneers with thick accents calling her “heina” all the time were difficult to decipher. No longer. Allemane used noises unfamiliar to Chaff. Of course, it didn’t help that the telephone conversation sounded heated.

>>Nein, noch einmal! Natürlich häslich. Ja. Ja. Ich weiß. Ja, Mutti. Ich liebe dich auch. Tschüs!<< The spectacled pony stared at the ceiling, letting out a sigh of frustration. She continued in a language Chaff could thankfully understand. “Ach, Miss Shparkle! I am so sorry for you to hear that. It happens when the old mares are thinking they can keep up with those of us born into fashion. The magics do not happen for everypony. She does not listen so the ‘tough loves’ are in order.”

Sparkle? Was that her host’s name? Chaff felt her host’s throat and head vibrate lightly in reply, “That’s alright. I’m sure you and your mother will work it out just ... fine.” Her throat clenched a bit before swallowing. According to Plough’s lie detection lessons he had been giving her, Miss Sparkle was a terrible liar.

“Ja, ja. We always do, but do not pretend that is why we are here. We are here to see if the magics could help the biological and robotic to agree. I think so, that Powder Rouge my assistant, the perfect vessel for this project to be.”

“Thanks again for your help, Photo Finish. I can’t begin to tell you how much this could mean for the advancement of the arcane sciences.”

Photo Finish snorted. “Well, ja. What else am I, Photo Finish, going to do with all these degrees? High fashion does not much money during war make. An artist must bring in the bits in some way to support her art.”

Chaff blinked. A beak smiled in her face.

“Fate’s a…” she hesitated.

“Oh. Em. Gee, dude! I freakin’ know!”

“How long did you?”

“Only a few days. Jimmy gave me the orb the other day after I told him I had a recollector. We both tripped out.”

“Do you think…”

“I have no idea how they’ll react, but we gotta find a way to show her. It’s what friends do, right? Now, drink up. We only have a little time to make it west of the Acre if we’re gonna get down on some fish tacos. Or, sorry. Bean and ... corn burritos?”

“Isn’t that BP-16 territory?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t they, you know, dangerous?”

“Pff! Dude. They are ponies just like yourself. They might have a few different traditions and a different language, but they’re just trying to get by just like all of us. Besides, how could you possibly allow bodily harm to keep you from fish tacos?”

Chaff looked down at the frothy mug hanging from her hoof. “Right.”

Fate’s stomach rumbled. It was only the gentle sounds like these that piqued the interest of wannabe night watchmen. Time might have given her more experience, but that experience drove a reality-based worry. Another chase like last time could gift her an ulcer.

Her comrades signed they were prepped and ready to begin the operation.

With that she padded on, leaping to the next building. Her silhouette was barely visible. The roll she tucked into, silent. Laughter caught her attention as she wormed near the front of the building to peer over.

There, many stories below, under the orange light of the ancient bulbs, scurried a horde of tiny legs.

Fillies and colts playing hoofball.

Laughter turned to crying and yelling as one of the taller fillies tripped in a pothole and scraped her chin on the asphalt. The resulting diatribe explosion would have made Fate blush, had she been a young filly herself.

Fate snorted and shook her head. What kind of parents would allow their kids to be out this late on a school night? And in this part of town, too. She smirked. She was the seedy underground; the type of pony parents warned their foals about.

Leaving the foals to their game, she hurried on to her target.

The warehouse sat in the distance. Like many of the larger ruins in the Acre, it bore the brunt of the balefire blast. Its stonework walls were worn and blackened, its windows boarded up. If any structure in the city were to be compared with the soulless gaze of a taxidermied animal, this was the major contender.

Fate noticed several open window panes near the top of the building. At least the carved stones jutted ruggedly on the warehouse’s surface. Climbing could be a cinch. She looked down over the divide of the street. The broken asphalt teased her from five stories below. It must have been at least twenty meters to the other side.

The intel was faulty. Frankfurter’s scar warped over his skin when he had relayed the information. Drool escaped along with slurred speech. Obviously getting shot in the face was as good for his memory as it was for his ability to talk. Where was the alleyway that was supposed to grant easy access to the warehouse’s rooftop?

Head in the game, Fate, she reminded herself. The ghoul games would kick off the next day. If any rescue were to be attempted it would have had to have been that night.

She smirked as she rappelled down the building. There was nothing greater in the world than planned impetuousness.

Streets were well-lit. Guards made their rounds.

Turn, two, three, four, five, six. Turn. Scan. Step, two, three, four, five, six.

The guard stood longer than before. Fate’s veins went icy. Her stomach, weightless. She anticipated his tell.

His head leaned to the side. Fate jumped. His hoof lifted. She was airborne. He reached for a pocket. Halfway across. Pulled out a lighter. Almost there. His head turned. Shit!

“Who’s there?” his voice commanded.

Fate ducked into a street-side stairway leading to the basement level of the warehouse. The guard’s hooves scraped across uneven pavement. She prayed Luna’s shadows to hide her as her bobby pin floated to the door.

“This area is dangerous,” the guard went on. “Off limits. You think painting dick murals on walls is funny until you get bit by a ghoul.”

His steps came up short. The atmosphere changed. Static tugged at her mane.

The door’s tumblers were light. She couldn’t feel or hear them. His flashlight beamed around the corner.

“Last warning. Come out now and I guarantee your safety.”

Fate pulled the pin. In a final attempt, she tried the door. Unlocked.

She darted in as he turned the corner. Closing the door behind her, she fumbled in the dark for a place to hide.

The door opened. His flashlight flooded the room. Fate heard the click of a gun safety being switched off.

He scanned the room and began opening cabinets, looking for her. She hid behind a shelf. He rounded the shelf, scanning as he walked. His light spun around the corner. Nothing. Fate was already back outside, scaling the building.

The stones of the warehouse surface were clammy in the cool air of night. She heard the guard pony alert the others below. Damn, she thought. The alerted officers would certainly prove more difficult for her team.

Fate fought to keep her footing. Muscles in her tensing back rippled and protested. Fate prayed they wouldn’t present her with an ultimatum before she reached the highest row of window panes.

The protests in her back dispersed as she slunk through an open window pane onto a roof girder inside the warehouse. The heat of the day had hung out long enough to meet her, stifling her labored breath. A strong smell of old and oily eggs didn’t help. It toyed with her throat. She could feel her salivary glands bloat, starting the gag process.

She put a hoof to her mouth, determined to halt it. The movie in her mind, the one where a guard is slimed with bile and lunch from an unknown assailant hiding in the rafters, replayed constantly. The grin that eked out was a welcome feeling. It also had the benefit of removing her focus on the putrid smell.

A flat part of a girder turned into a nice little seat in the dark. Its height allotted her a spectacular view of the warehouse.

The majority of the building was vacant, save the guards playing chess and standing around on the far side from her. Their shadows danced in the naked flames of ensconced torches lining the far wall. The whole scene looked like a panel from a Sword Mare comic. The wall led to a walkway which she assumed ran to the front of the building.

She counted five guards. Two playing chess near a heavy steel door, two talking over a bunch of wooden crates, and one smoking near the front of the building. A stealthy rescue seemed more unlikely by the second.

She flicked the broadcaster switch on her PipBuck. She tapped her code on the microphone with a padded hoof, letting her team know the intel was true and to prep for evacuation of the hostages. Switching off her broadcaster, she continued her scan of the room.

The side she was on held a wreck of mechanical equipment and failed catwalks. A false move down the junk pile would have proven noisy. Fate scanned further over to a chain swinging almost imperceptibly in between several of the crumbling catwalks. She peered closer, hoping to find room enough to squeeze underneath the ruined pile of metal. Her vantage point prevented a decent angle.

The chain and the guards played tennis with her gaze. Torch fires echoed in the massive space. Inching her way down the I-beam towards the chain, she prayed.

Luna, sister of the night. Let my timing be right and my balance be true.

“Ouch! Damn! Son of a bitch!”

“We keep tellin’ ya not to smoke ‘em.”

“I’m surprised you even have vocal chords left, Cabby.”

“Geech, chuh’ uff ooh choo!”

“Ha! or lips for that matter! Ha ha ha!”

Fate was on her way down the chain before they lost interest in laughing. Something about the weak orange glow from the torches reminded her of Raze when he was in the wheelchair. Weak, frail, vulnerable. A completely different pony than the one she had heard was tearing through the sky.

One of their last conversations before he was reclaimed by the Steel Rangers played and replayed in her head as she carefully snaked her way through the industrial wreckage.

“Tell me, Fate,” he asked.

“Yeah?”

He squirmed in his seat to get a better look at her, his neck still stiff from the injuries. “Whut do you wish was in store for you in your future? Luyk, if you were magic and you could just change da future into anyfing you wanted for yourself, what would it look luyk? Paint me a picture. I know you’re good at dose.”

Fate Smirked. All those nights in the lab playing guinea pig, finding herself lost in a carnival of horrors they called a city, watching entire populations get swept to the side when nopony wanted them as the elite in the city got fat from all the resources they could squeeze out of them, fueled the engine of her anger. And from her moral high ground she paid witness to the sins in the valley below and knew she was justified.

“I see a glorious unification, where pony and zebra come together in friendship. I see a rebuilding of Equestria with towers reaching to catch the rays of the regained sun. When the time of-”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Excuse me?” Fate asked, trembling.

“Dat’s not whut you want and you know it. Dat’s some grandiose shit. Or do you forget I’m an equine lie detector?”

“Listen, you ass! You’re the one who asked me. I’m telling you the truth and…”

He waved her away as if she were misunderstanding what life was. “Look, do you wanna hear mine first, before you go? Okay, listen. Let me paint you a picture… damn, dat metaphor got switched. Anyway, imagine dis: sun’s back, alruyt? Looks just like one uh dose murals, but it’s winter time, ruyt? Snow is on da ground and all dat. And I come home to a house, luyk a real Celestia-damned house, and da fire’s goin’ and I can smell somefing amazing coming from da kitchen.

“You tink it’s just luyk yours, but you’re wrong. I know whut mine means to me. It’s congruence. It’s a place I can go to and I don’t have to be somefing I don’t wanna be. I don’t gotta be dat tough guy. I don’t gotta be da one to do a job nopony should have to. No lies. No B.S. answers luyk your ‘glorious future.’ It’s just where I want to be before I stop going.”

Fate stared at her hooves, his statement hanging heavy on her brow.

“Now, I shared mine. You share yours. What do you wish for, Fate?”

Avoiding the question again, Fate rewound the memory and snapped back to the present. The group was still mocking the pony who had burned his lips on his own cigarette.

“Heh heh. Aw, for Celestia’s sake you guys. Spongecake, would you take Cabby here to the doctor? Maybe get his head examined while you’re at it?”

“And bring back some sandwiches, maybe?”

One of the guards near the crates nodded and helped Cabby and his now-swollen lips out of the building.

“Happy Hearthswarming to me,” Fate whispered as guard numbers dwindled. The pony who had been talking to Spongecake wandered over to the two ponies playing chess.

She flowed from shadow to shadow, hugging the wall. The smell became almost intolerable.

Only after ducking behind the wooden crates did she notice the logo branded onto them.

“Ironshod Firearms: How do you like them apples?”

“No way,” Fate mouthed, her eyes sparkling like fireworks. Her dream of a better tomorrow solidified in her mind, almost becoming tactile. She smirked smugly. If only Raze were there, she would have shoved his nose right into that future.

Before her fantasy went any further there was an unusual knock at the front door. She steeled herself as two of the guard ponies headed in that direction. She closed her eyes, listening to their hooves echo.

They stopped. The door clanked. Creaked.

“Wh-,” the guard tried to speak. Within two grunts he was down, the other with him.

The last leapt to his hooves. Fate leapt with him. His gun trained on her comrades.

He jerked, turning to block Fate. She dropped, sliding under the barrel. Kick. Roll. He fell, face to concrete. A tooth shot from his mouth. One more kick to the head to be sure. He rolled and lay shuddering.

Fate removed his weapon and signaled for one of the zonys to drug him. She moved for the makeshift prison door as the zony behind her made use of his blowgun.

“Now remember,” Fate addressed the group. “Some of the ghouls might have already become feral. Be prepared for anything. Don’t hesitate, but don’t be too eager. There are innocents in here.”

She motioned them to back away. Her hoof banged a familiar rhythm on the rusty door.

BANG. BANG BANG BANG. BANG.

For a while only sickly thuds answered her from the opposite side, but just like popping corn the thuds slowly faded to silence.

The group looked toward one another and then to Fate to see what she’d do next. She reached out for the door.

BANG. BANG.

She sighed her relief and, nodding to the group, reached out for the lock.

“What do you wish for, Fate?”

I wish you’d get out of my head right now so I can focus. Celestia, sister of mercy, please help us save these innocents.

The lock screeched. Fate took a deep breath and opened the door.

She flung herself to the side, avoiding the charging unicorn ghoul. The unicorn was easily dispatched by the trained hooves of her group. The following fight felt more like pest control than anything else, which suited Fate just fine as the ghoul’s smell made her stomach lurch.

Quelling the arguments of her insides, Fate called out to the void beyond the door. “If anypony is in there, come on out. We’re here to rescue you.”

The stallion who walked out looked as if biology itself had forgotten what a pony looked liked and gave up halfway through making him out of paper mache. The flickering light of torches didn’t exactly flatter his highly textured features.

Fate choked back her automatic response. “Hello sir. We are part of an organization that believes in freedom for all creatures. We are here to make sure your life isn’t toyed with in some vile spectacle.”

He stared at nothing, said nothing.

Fate looked at her comrades for some support. They just shrugged. “My name is Fate. We just want to make sure your life is really your own and not used like some corrupt pony’s plaything.”

The ragged ghoul looked at the carnage surrounding him and back to the awaiting eyes of Fate. “Hmph,” he croaked and wandered off, out the front door.

Around a dozen or so quietly followed him out. One of the ghouls, who apparently used to be a cow, walked up to Fate.

“Don’t mind him,” her voice crackled. “He just feels like he lost his wife.” She nodded at one of the crooked corpses on the ground. “He doesn’t want to accept that he lost her years ago. Don’t you worry, he’ll get over it. Just don’t expect many of us to be too friendly for a while. I know you saved us from a worse fate, but you just have to understand none of us have had it too easy for quite some time, don’t ya know.”

The ghoul cow looked Fate up and down. “Hey, honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Say ‘hello’ to Photo Finish for me next time you see her.”

“What?”

The old heifer just laughed and mosied toward the door. “Oh, it’s well before your time, sweetheart. You be good, y’hear?”

Fate stared at the door after she left. She stood in the wash of another hollow victory, letting the waves of emotions lick at her fetlocks.

“Fate?”

“Huh? Yes?”

“We need to leave.”

“Oh, right! Let’s get those crates open. Grab every weapon you can and let’s hoof it out of here.”

The trek back through the alleys and rooftops of Celestia’s Acre was more challenging with several guns tied to her back. Her thoughts drifted from one thing to the next. Their ability to fight would be greatly enhanced by the new acquisitions. The Firestone’s grip on the populace would weaken with the message they broadcast, letting the citizens know what happened and why. They couldn’t reach every mind, but there had to be a few open ones.

Though it was a literal victory, Fate could neither shake the confusion of the heifer’s request, nor fill the hole drilled into her by the lidless eyes of an old ghoul who had just lost his special somepony.

Who was Photo Finish? And why would Fate have known about her, anyway?

She looked down on the area the fillies and colts were playing hoofball in. The ball stood alone in the spotlight of the street lamp. Their laughter echoed in her mind. It warmed her heart until it shined like gold, but gold is very heavy and too much to carry forever.

“What do you wish for, Fate?”

She stared at the lonely ball, her heart reaching out.

“I don’t know,” she lied.

Author's Notes:

For those of you still with me or coming back and reading after my insanely long absence, I thank you so, so much. Extra special thanks to Desrium who has become my de facto editor and #1 awesomeface.

This story is based on Kkat’s strange and wonderful, Fallout: Equestria. If you haven’t already, please do so. Here’s the link: Equestria Daily

If you’d like to read more Fallout Equestria Side Stories, take a look at: Fallout Equestria Side Stories post on Equestria Daily and the Fallout Equestria Side Stories thread on Ponychan

Also, check out the FO:E groups on FiMFiction: 1, 2, 3 and the subreddits here and here.

Thank you also to Arcane Scroll for the excellent site: Fallout: Equestria Resource. There is a chat function on that site, come say “hello.”