Written by blackjack

Exile. It was a word he never thought would be applied to him. After all, he’d done everything he was ordered to; he’d saved his vault, defeated the master and his mutated army, and became a walking legend of the wastes. It was an adventure that cost him dearly; he’d lost many friends:  Ian, Tycho, Dogmeat.  But he always held on to the hope of saving his vault, of returning victorious from his quest to the praise and joy of his people. It was a dream that he would not achieve. The overseer had banished him, had sent him from the one place that he knew he could call home. It was with anger and frustration in his heart that he wandered away from vault 13, and off into the wastes, hoping to simply to disappear from the land.

Little did he know that his hope would be granted.

The first thing he became aware of was the ground. It was soft, almost comfortable. He groaned as he opened his eyes, the sun high in the sky burning his retinas before he managed to get a pair of sunglasses off his belt on. He let out a deep breath and stood up off the ground, eager to continue with what he was doing:  traveling.

Except his surroundings were far different from what he was expecting. Last he remembered he was camped out in the mountains, to the north of Vault 13, under the shade of a large boulder. His current surroundings were far different; instead of rocks and sand, he was standing in a meadow, like one from an old pre war photo he’d seen. Flowers of all colors bloomed around him, a sight he’d never experienced before.

And the smell, the pure freshness of his surroundings assaulted his senses, much in contrast to the dead land he was used to, and the temperature was much milder, cooler, a hell of a lot more comfortable than under the hot wasteland sun.  Where am I, he thought to himself, and how in hell did I get here?

With a slight amount of confusion, he shrugged and walked over to a gathering of flowers, taking his gloves off and running a hand over it. Sure enough, it was real, a fact that confused him. He raised a hand to his chin and scratched the stubble that had recently grown, pondering the implications of his current situation.  After several moments, he stood up and turned around, eager to explore the rest of this strange garden, and hopefully figure out more about how he had gotten there.

Except that when he turned around, he was greeted by several dozen small four legged creatures standing before him, each one clad in heavy armor; several had floating weapons near them, primitive things like swords and spears, but nothing as advanced as a firearm. Others merely pointed a strange horn that was growing out of their head at him; he wondered why, surely it would make a terrible weapon as the tip wasn’t even somewhat sharp.

Neither the creatures nor he made a move, and they merely kept up a near literal staring contest. His right hand fell onto his side, resting on the handle of his .223 pistol. For a moment he considered drawing it and firing upon the crowd of seemingly hostile creatures, but he stopped himself. As he had learned from his time in Necropolis, sometimes talking was a better solution to fighting.

After several more awkward moments, a taller creature walked out of the crowd, its armor slightly more intricate than the others; it appeared to be of higher rank. It trotted right up to him and opened its mouth, strange sounds but nothing more coming out.

The Vault Dweller figured that it was trying to say something, but it must’ve spoken a different language than he did. He tried to say something, but stopped and shrugged when all he got was a confused stare. Then the creature did something with its horn.  It bent down, and a glow emerged from the tip right before a sudden flash of light.

“You there,” the lieutenant creature said while looking up, this time in perfect English, “I demand you tell me what you are, and why you are trespassing in the Royal Gardens. Answer at once or I will have you detained.”

The vault dweller understood that well enough, even if he had no idea what the lieutenant meant by, ‘Royal Gardens’.  After all, there were no royalty in the wastes, not that he was aware of. Unless he was somewhere else, much farther from California than he was hoping. If so, then he would have to think of some other way to get back.

He looked over the creature’s shoulder at the crowd, thinking over his choice to not fight his way out and weighed his options. He was rather under armed; all he had was his assault rifle and pistol, and not much spare ammo for either. For defense he had his combat armor, and although it would do well against small arms like the ones the ponies had, it wouldn’t be enough to save him should he get overwhelmed, which he knew would happen, seeing all the targets he’d have to face.

The creature before him looked like it was starting to get annoyed from the lack of a response; the Vault Dweller shrugged, deciding combat was definitely a last resort. “I am a human,” he said, pointing to his chest, “and as for how I got into these gardens, I was hoping you would be able to tell me that...  I just woke up here. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“What in Celestia’s name is a human? The only things that live in Equestria are ponies, explain yourself.”  The lieutenant demanded.

The Vault Dweller sighed, “No humans, huh? I must be farther from California than I thought. Well, I stand by what I said earlier, I didn’t mean to trespass, just let me be on my way, you won’t hear from me again.”  He desperately hoped that the pony would listen to him.

“I’ll believe that this was a misunderstanding when I see the proof. For now I’m placing you under arrest until we can decide what to do with you. Then you’ll face the princess’s judgment for your crime.”

The vault dweller sighed and backed away from the lieutenant.  Despite his wishes, combat was becoming more and more a viable option, and there was no way he was going to spend so much as a day in a prison cell. “For what? I told you, I didn’t do anything!” he yelled, but the lieutenant ignored him and began to trot closer, a pair of handcuffs floating next to him.

The Vault Dweller leaped backwards and drew his pistol, pointing the barrel at his adversary’s face. “Back off!” he shouted, “I don’t want to kill you!”

He only got a scoff as a reply, ‘With what, that little thing?” The pony mockingly asked. Seeing no other option, he pointed it at the ground a distance away and pulled the trigger, throwing up a cloud of dirt as the bullet impacted, the sudden bang taking most of the ponies off guard. The lieutenant looked back at him with a blank expression.  ”What is that thing?” he asked, his voice ridden with disbelief.

“This,” the human said, pointing it directly at the lieutenant’s face, “is a gun. It is more advanced than any weapon you or your men have. I’d rather not use it, but I will if I have to.” His finger crept to the trigger and rested over it; if there was going be bloodshed, he’d rather get it over with as quickly as he could.

He was about to speak again when suddenly the pistol was wrenched out of his hands by some strange force. He looked up at it floating away in a blue aura, and tried to grab it, only for it to float even higher.

“You’re unarmed, you have no other option but to come with us,” The pony stated, his horn glowing the same color as the aura, “We’d rather not spill blood in these gardens.” He levitated up his handcuffs towards the Vault Dweller, but instead received a rifle butt to the face. He recoiled backwards before the rattling of gunfire flew forth from the human’s rifle, landing in his kneecap. The pony let out a pained grunt and slid to the ground, both of the objects he was holding falling straight down with him.

The rest of the ponies began to move forward, but neither got within fighting distance of the armed man. He rested his sights on the crowd, contemplating whether or not he should start firing before one of them managed to close the distance and attack.

But before any fighting could start, there was a loud maniacal cackling sound, and all of the ponies nearby turned to see a tall bipedal creature standing behind the Vault Dweller. It knelt down on one knee next to him, and the man backed away, his rifle aimed directly at the thing’s head.

“Oh do put that thing down; I was only trying to have some fun. You wouldn’t believe the things that boring old princess has had me doing.” It said, snapping its finger. The man’s pistol suddenly disappeared from the ground and appeared in his holster.  The creature continued, “I’m afraid that this is getting a little too serious, but it was fun while it lasted.”

The vault dweller cocked his head; he had no idea what this thing was talking about, “What the hell do you mean?  You’re what brought me here?”

A wide smile filled the creature’s mouth, highlighting a large single tooth, “Why yes, I did. Figured you could use a little vacation from your life - that desert does look so drab doesn’t it?” The figure turned and looked at the wounded pony lying near him and snapped his fingers. With a flash its wounds were healed, although he seemed none too pleased.

“Discord, why the hay did you bring that thing here? It could have killed me! Celestia will hear of this!”

The figure rolled its eyes. “Oh be quiet, this poor individual was trying to avoid conflict, if anything you have yourself to blame for all of this.” It turned back to the Vault Dweller, who seemed even more confused than before. “So sorry to cut this short, but I think you’re going to have to go back home.  Can’t exactly let there be any more complications.” He glanced towards the previously-wounded lieutenant, a look the human read as saying, ‘Although I want to.’

The pony grunted and stood up, “Good riddance, we can’t just let troublemakers walk freely through the-” He stopped talking as his mouth suddenly turned into a closed zipper. The foreigner looked upwards at the malformed creature, who held look of amusement on his face.

“Can’t say I’ve enjoyed your speeches lieutenant, you take things far too seriously. This suits you better, don’t you think?”  He turned towards the human, who couldn’t think of anything else to do but shrug.  He was simply out of words at the moment.

Discord took a moment to look to his right, then he looked back at the human and, using an uncanny amount of strength, picked him right off his feet with one hand.  “Time for you to go home; those ponies over there are looking at me strangely.”  He pulled the human closer to his face and whispered with a smile and a quiet chuckle, “Not that I don’t enjoy the attention.”

The Vault Dweller blinked twice, the creature in front of him defying all of his explanations.  “Wait,” he blurted, “Who – or what – the hell, are you?”  The odd creature smiled even wider.

“I do love questions, but first, might I ask, who you are?”

The vault dweller rolled his eyes.  Didn’t the creature already know who he was?  It was what brought him here after all. Or maybe it was merely playing games. “A vault dweller...” He paused when the statement had no effect, “The name’s Isaac.”

The creature lifted him up higher and began spinning his fist; it almost looked like he would punch the human. “Well, I’m Discord. Goodbye.” he said, then tossed the foreigner upwards and swung its massive paw straight towards his face, striking him through the air.

The Vault Dweller hit the ground with a thud and rolled several feet before coming to a halt. His pistol was out of his holster in seconds, but he was no longer in the garden. Instead, he was next to his bed cot:  his camp. He could judge from the moon in the sky that it was near midnight. A small fire was roasting the remains of a mole rat. All was normal.

He began wondering if his strange encounter was merely a dream.  Had it ever even happened? He stood up and began making his way to his sleeping mat.  He laid down in it, and contemplated whether or not the past events were real. It must have been a dream; he probably fell out his bed and rolled down a small slope. It couldn’t have happened. Talking ponies didn’t exist; he’d be crazy to think such things.  At least, that was what he told himself.

He stopped thinking for a moment and reached over to his satchel for something reflective as a thought passed through his head. He pulled out his field mirror in front of himself. It took him a few moments, but he found it, and a strange grin filled his face. There it was; just below his eye sat a strange, large, and peculiarly fist-shaped bruise. Next Chapter: One of Those Days Estimated time remaining: 14 Minutes