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Chapter One

Dear Princess Celestia, Life Sucks.

"It's a better life than what she'd have with me."

The spittle on my cheek was giving me a squeamish feeling; seriously, did assholes really have to spit? The urge to reach up and wipe it away was gnawing at me in an unpleasant way, the kind of unpleasant feeling similar to an itch you couldn't scratch. It was annoying, and distracting...but strangely, much more appealing to pay attention to rather than the ramblings of the idiot, but soon-to-be-dead idiot, of a stallion in front of me.

As my thoughts turned to him I glanced up, the motley grey and brown hide of a pony suffering from a bad skin condition greeted me, the foul breath of halitosis was coupled by teeth that were more 'black and not there' than they were 'white', and those blue eyes had a yellowish tinge that was NOT healthy. If I was a doctor I'd probably say it was Scurvy, but hey, not surprising, fruits rich in vitamin C weren't really common around here. Though, there was this fantastic place up-

Whack!

Ouch. My muzzle lashed to the side and the coppery taste in my mouth told me I'd bitten my cheek a little. That kinda hurt.

"Are you payin' attention to me, ya stupid motherfucker!" He yelled, in an accent that spoke less of what region he was from, and more about how much brain damage he probably had.

"Not really. Can I wipe my face, please?" I asked as I wriggled my jaw side to side to make sure nothing was broken.

The stallion in front of me didn't look too happy at my calm demeanour. I suppose he had expected a different reaction considering the circumstances. I was held by three other ponies, a unicorn and two earth ponies, with my fore hooves tucked behind my back, hence the inability to wipe my cheek. Oh, and he had a gun to my head, well, one of his lackeys did, but as this idiot was apparently 'giving the orders' (Celestia knows why), I considered it him in control of the trigger, so yes, HE had the gun to my head, rather than the violet maned unicorn beside me who kept the pistol locked in a pinkish glow against my temple. In such a situation, most other ponies would be begging for their lives, so his confusion as to why I wasn't was understandable.

"What's fuckin' wrong with ya, are ya a stupid buck or sumthin'?"

"'Stallion'," I corrected.

"Wha'?" The incredulous look on the varmints face showed off his rotten teeth and turned a rather ugly bloke into a disgusting one. Truly a face only a mother could love.

"'Stallion,'" I repeated. "'Buck' is used for Cervines and Lapines, and last I checked we don't have antlers or those fluffy tails. 'Buck' is a slang term, adopted much in the same was as 'Kid' is for children, despite them not actually being baby goats."

Whack!

My muzzle lurched to the side again. Ouch. That time I think something clicked in my neck, that can't be healthy.

"You are one crazy motherfucker." He said, nodding his head in a ridiculous manner as though confirming his own statement to himself. "You come down here; you walk straight up to me-"

"Actually I more zig-zagged, there is the mine field after all."

Whack!

Okay, my jaw was starting to hurt now. I rotated it to regain a little feeling. The sticky sensation of something dribbling down my chin told me at least some part of my lip had finally split under his blows.

"You walk STRAIGHT up to me..." He continued. "...You...THIS IS MY TERRITORY NOW! I OWN IT!" He yelled, though whether he was trying to convince me or himself, I wasn't quite sure at this point. "YOU INSULTED MY MOTHER YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"In my defence, you've called me a 'mother fucker' more than once during these exchanges, so I think we're pretty even." I replied, doing my best to shrug my shoulders, though it wasn't easy given the situation.

"Oh no, we ain't even, 'motherfucker'!" He snapped, emphasising the 'motherfucker' this time.

"You sure? Because that's like, the fifth time now."

"WE AIN'T EVEN! You're fuckin' dead!" He turned his head and pulled the gun from his side holster, a nice ten calibre pistol from Ironshod Firearms, he held the grip in his muzzle as the barrel was pushed against my head. "Shay goo'nigh'" He slurred, his jaw clenching visibly on the trigger mechanism.

Bang!

Blood and brains splattered the ground. The red viscous remains of an equine skull splattered the muzzles and barding of the ponies that held me as their leader fell backwards, minus a head.

The momentary shock that passed through the idiots that held me slackened their grip. I leaned down into the interior of my jackets collar and bit onto the thin handle of the four inch shiv that I had hidden away there; I turned my head once the small blade was secured in my mouth, the sharp point carved into the tender flesh of the earth pony's throat to my left, it wasn't the best of blades, its lack of length meant that the wound was shallow, but that's the beauty of the neck, so many vital things so close to the surface. Carpe jugulum. Blood splattered my muzzle as the wound gushed. I pulled away from the stunned compatriots of the now two dead ponies. The unicorn, who already had his magical grip on a gun, finally found the brains to aim it at me, only for a nice clear hole to slice through the stallion's temple as another deafening shot rang out, silencing his magic and his thoughts forever.

The remaining earth pony reacted valiantly in my opinion...or perhaps 'stupidly' is the word I should use. He rushed me and lashed out with a cleaver he'd wonder-glued to his hoof. I ducked low and thrust my shoulder forward, driving the armoured cap of my shoulder barding into his gut, his blade scratched down into the leather of my hide and struck the metal plating underneath. I launched my body up and towards him from below, offsetting his balance and rolling him onto my back and then to the floor. I was on him before he could recover, myhoof smashing down and cracking his skull into the ground. He went still after that.

I sighed as I looked down at him, reaching up to remove the spittle that had now almost dried to my cheek. I wiped it on the barding of his chest. He didn't seem to be breathing. I looked up to his face again, glancing over his wounded head as blood pooled from his temple. He looked dead, but what can I say? I gotta make sure.

I smashed my hoof down onto his head, the first blow cracked something, the second caused something to split, and with the third my hoof went into brain matter. I pulled my hoof free, grumbling about the mess. I used his shitty barding as a wipe, the metal of his buttons clinking my prosthetic.

I placed my hoof back down, listening to the soft clink of the metal touching the stone below. I kinda liked the sound; it made me think of a sort of foreboding and dramatic atmosphere it could add to my presence. It wasn't stealthy, ponies could hear me coming for sure, but what would they hear? They'd listen to the dead of the night, the sounds around them gentle and almost peaceful, until the unmistakable sound of 'clop, clop, clink,' would reach their ears. 'Clop, clop, clink'. What could go through their minds? Maybe they imagined a powerful cyber-pony with one red eye, armed to the teeth with laser canons and large mini-guns. Or maybe a dangerous outlaw, with a single cyber-leg and a wide brimmed hat, ready to bring sweet justice to the Wastelands of Equestria.

Then they'd see me of course, and any dramatic effect the nice clinking would have would be shattered. But hey, it's the image that counts, right?

A prosthetic hoof was one thing, ponies could guess it might be capable of transforming into some sort of death ray, or give me the strength to smash my hooves into a pony's chest and rip out their still beating hearts. THAT could be a formidable aspect to one's reputation and appearance...glasses, a bad mane-cut and an obviously malnourished physique however...those were NOT conducive to a formidable appearance.

By all accounts I would probably be considered a 'nerd' a hundred years ago.

The sound of clopping hooves brought me out of my thought process. I turned to see my partner walking towards me. He wore a long overcoat, and he was covered head to hoof in bandages that had probably once been white but now sported a dirty grey and black colour. Thankfully he was the strong-stubborn type so he wasn't that worried about wound infections. His face was covered with bandages too, the wrapping tight enough to cover any trace of coat except for his right eye, which showed through as a beautiful deep blue. He wore a dirty wide brimmed grungy hat which sported a hole where his abnormally long horn could poke out. I say 'abnormally' long, but it was only a bit longer than the average unicorn horn. The coat he wore was unkempt as well; its hem was tattered and frayed, and the entire thing would look big on most other ponies, except this fella was a big fella, standing a full head above myself, not including his horn. Where he found a coat that big in the Wasteland I never did find out.

He reached me, his sniper rifle hanging in the air beside him, held in the purple glow of his magic as he walked. The stallion stopped a few paces from me, standing in a silent and stoic manner as though waiting for me to do anything but stare at him.

"Cut it a little close don't you think?"

He didn't answer my barb of course, and I didn't much expect him too. I went to the first corpse -the leader, an idiot piss-head of a Raider named Blue Bingo, or Blue Bronco or something like that- and began ruffling through his pockets. He didn't have much on him, a healing potion in the back pocket of his bags, a few bottlecaps on the inner lining of his jacket, and an empty bottle of whiskey. Bastard hadn't even saved me any.

"Maybe next time you could just take them all out?" I asked as I moved to the unicorn's body next. "Or better yet, next time, I hide safely with the rifle, and you get to be the bait. 'Barrel at ya head sound good?" I asked rhetorically, though, to be fair, every question to my compatriot was a rhetorical one. He was, predictably, silent as the grave.

I dug around in the saddlebags of the unicorn, finding some scrap bits of salvage that I threw down at his hooves before giving him a glancing look. As usual, he just watched me.

I sighed, shrugging away the one-way conversation. "Nah, I guess it has to be me. Gotta keep them talking." I grumbled, moving to the final earth pony when the other one yielded me nothing but a bottle of wonder-glue. "Then again, I could be wrong. Maybe they'd be nicely distracted by your _charming_personality." I gave him another glance as he lifted the scrap I'd tossed him into his own saddlebags, the weight not seeming to bother him at all, big boy that he was.

The problem with having a travelling partner that had his entire face covered in bandages was that you couldn't tell if he found your jokes funny or not. I liked to believe he found me hilarious.

I turned my back to the corpses and headed into the encampment this small band of Pseudo-Raiders had set up. It wasn't much in the way of a camp to be honest. A few strewn about items and scrap metal with some tents pitched up around what looked to be a poorly constructed and recently doused fire was less of an 'encampment' and more of a 'shitty-place-to-hold-up'.

I slipped into one of the tents, coming across a hooflocker at the hoof of a cot whose metal surface had not yet rusted so badly that I couldn't see myself in its reflection.

Green eyes and a burgundy mane stared back at me from the metal surface. I was thin, not surprising though due to the nature of our lifestyle. Exactly how thin I was though was often concealed by the coat I wore. It was a dark leather hide that had a few outside plates along the shoulders of my fore legs; it also had some metal plates sewn into the lining for added hidden protection, pretty standard in the way of barding if I'm honest. It wasn't the best and probably wouldn't stop a point-blank shot from most guns, but my methods of handling situations usually involved not getting shot at, so I figured I was fine with what I had. I'd also modified it in my time to have a few hidey holes. Part of the collar had a hole just big enough for the shiv I'd used on the earth pony and the lining underneath also held a small pistol. It wasn't the best of guns, but it was good in an emergency. The lining at the bottom on my back also contained a well concealed knife. I wasn't quite sure how I was supposed reach it in any given situation, but the fact that it was there gave me a small measure of comfort.

My name is Tome Tale. This is my diary you are reading. I'm in my mid-twenties, I was born and raised in the Wasteland, I have a prosthetic left hoof so I clink when I walk, and you could probably describe my coat as a sky blue...if you had a sky to compare it to anyway.

Though try not to visualise such vivid colourations in your mind, the Wasteland isn't kind to colours. My coat, could sometimes appear just as grey due to dirt...or maybe red if I was covered in a particular amount of blood. I think at this point my chin and neck were a little caked in red, arterial blood tends to spray and make a mess. My mane also had black splotches, caked in dirt and blood that made it more matted than styled. I needed a wash, but hey, welcome to the Wasteland. A nice bath might be needed once in a while, but I'd prefer not to come out of the water glowing like an irradiated Ghoul.

Looking away from the surface of the hooflocker, I used my hooves in an attempt to force the lid, but predictably, it was locked. Slipping out some bobby pins I set to work convincing the inanimate object to yield its secrets to me. It wasn't difficult, there was a satisfying click before the lock sprang open. The contents were mediocre, a few shells for a shotgun, a NaughtyMare magazine and five bottlecaps. I took them all anyway and headed back out, slipping into the second tent. The hooflocker in this tent wasn't locked, and didn't contain anything other than a worn Teddy-Ursa, telling me that these 'Raiders' had been particularly bad at keeping up the 'toughbuck' act. The third and final tent had a cot that was big enough for two ponies giving me a few thoughts about the kind of relationship two of those stallions had. I moved over to the hooflocker and began picking the slightly more difficult lock, it wasn't long before a light click met my ears. Smiling at the victory, I opened it up and sighed as I finally found what we had come for. Of course it would be in the last place I looked. Reaching down I pulled out a small box that looked like it'd be at home on a mare's vanity desk in her pre-war boudoir. It was brown varnished wood, inlaid with some gold edgings and a simple clasped latch and lock. By its design it probably contained some jewellery or something that our client found to be of sentimental value, or maybe even actual value. But, we'd been told not to open the box, so rather than satisfying a nagging curiosity that gnawed at the back of my mind, I slipped the box into my saddlebag.

Walking out of the tent I passed the waiting Stranger and stepped back onto the jagged road. I jerked my head in a gesture for us to start heading back the way we'd come, and together we began trotting down what had once been a highway intersecting Ponyville with the neighbouring towns like Appleloosa. You might think that we'd be full of witty banter, but really we just walked in silence.

Stranger didn't talk much. That was his name by the way, 'Stranger'. Or at least, that's what he called himself. Whether that was because he didn't know who he really was or maybe it really was his actual name, I couldn't say. The backdrops of having a noun-based naming system could get a little irksome sometimes.

I and Stranger had been companions for a while. Despite his habitual silence, he wasn't a mute. He COULD talk. He had a tongue in his mouth. He just chose not to use it. Which I suppose worked for me in some ways, ponies always said I liked the sound of my own voice, so who knows, maybe our partnership was a match made by Celestia.

The road back to New Appleloosa wasn't a very long one, a few hours at most, but it was long enough to take in the sights. We'd moved around Ponyville on our journey, and from the ragged highway we trotted down the town could be seen in the distance, barely rising above the horizon. Ponyville was considered a landmark town, even if nopony lived there anymore. It had been quite important during the Pre-War years, but these days it was just a ghost town, filled with the unheard screams of the damned and the long-time dead. It was distinguished on the horizon by the crumbling remnants of one of its largest and most notable buildings, the Carousel Boutique, an old, barely standing, dress shop that had once been decorated in pinks, purples and gold's, but now sported mottled browns, blood red stains and faded greys. Ponyville was a magnet for Raiders, they never stayed or lasted very long, but they always moved in sooner or later. Ponyville was a symbol of a time before the war, a place known to have been home to the Ministry Mare's before the world had ended.

It held a semblance of innocence. Raiders liked innocence. They liked soiling it.

Turning away from the distant crumbling buildings and the spires of the old Ponyville town hall I looked ahead of me. The road below me was crumbled and cracked; centuries of neglect had made them more a path of crumbling rocks than a highway road that had once ferried vehicles and carriages. It was uneven to walk on, and the soft clink of my prosthetic hoof on the concrete was a constant in our travels. A few companions in the past had found the sound incessantly annoying and had tried to convince me to either cap it with rubber, or to boot the damn hoof up, but I'd always refused. I liked the sound. At least Stranger never complained about it; which I would take as a compliment except he never complained about anything. Not pain, not work, not even the weather. Which was surprising, because the weather in the Wasteland was utter shit!

As though Celestia herself had heard my inner most thoughts, the heavens took the opportunity right then to piss on us; opening wide with a torrent of rain.

I glanced up at the sky and thought about cursing Celestia, but I figured that would be a disservice to her. SHE hadn't closed the skies. SHE wasn't the one that had cut herself off from the surface in a selfish act of self-preservation, leaving everypony down here to live and die and suffer in this forsaken Wasteland. No, that was all the pegasus's fault. I was slightly bitter towards pegasus ponies, as you might have guessed, it's not so much a prejudice thing, as it was just good sense. They didn't help us down here, so why should we down here give a Brahmins shit about them up there.

The grey cloud above me had been a ceiling I had been stuck with for my entire life. The ground was irradiated and barren, no sunlight meant no plants, which meant little to no food, which meant we all starved while they lived all nice and safe up in their cloud castles or cloud cities or whatever they had up there.

It made me grumpy thinking about it. I turned my attention from the clouds, back to the road ahead. The light reeds of dead grass that littered the side of the road might seem good eating to the desperate, but they contained about as much nutrients as rocks, so it wasn't advisable. Besides, it backed up the bowels something chronic.

The way was predictably quiet, only disturbed by a couple of radroaches that crossed our path. We didn't waste our ammo on them; a few hoof stamps settled the insects easily.

"We need a big job." I said, "a really nice big job. That pays enough that we could survive a month or two with no worries." I grinned, mulling over the fantastical idea.

I glanced to my left when I caught sight of movement. We both froze, watching the horizon.

There was a group of four ponies, dragging along two others. The four ponies in front wore garish makeshift armour that wasn't much better than a raiders shambled attempts at barding. The two being dragged along wore nothing, one was a mare, and the other was a stallion. Both were earth ponies, and by the look of the blue coated stallion, he was probably the father of the pink mare. Both had chains around their necks and leather muzzles strapped around their mouths. The stallion wasn't struggling; he had a black eye and limped on one of his hind legs. The mare however looked to have fight in her, periodically having to be dragged by the leashes they had attached to their collar.

I could feel Stranger's eye burning into the back of my head, watching to see what I would do.

I did the most sensible thing I could think of. I did what I was supposed to do. I turned away and kept walking, leaving behind the whimpers and cries of the enslaved father and daughter.

It was only a little into the afternoon by the time we finally pulled ourselves into New Appleloosa, the rain had soaked our saddlebags and clothing by this point. The large gate opened when the guard saw us, tipping his hat in our direction as a greeting.

"The old feather brain here?" I asked, calling up to him. If he noticed the edge to my voice, he didn't show it.

"Nah, he's out at his usual perch, you're fine." The gate sentry replied as he showed an almost toothless grin. I nodded in relief.

"Thanks." The last thing I needed to deal with was a bloody pegasus.

The gate closed behind us after we'd entered. The market was on, a few stalls set up in the centre of the town, surrounded by towering boxcars that had been placed up as makeshift defendable walls. They were manned by sentries that were pretty good at their job, making New Appleloosa one of the safest towns. They had good defences, a decent population compared to other places in the Wasteland, and that featherbrain that hung around here was, I suppose, a pretty good scout when it came to spotting approaching raiders.

As I entered the market, hooves wrapped around me in a squishy and gag-worthy embrace that was similar to being hugged by jelly. It was unfortunately coupled with a smell of stagnation and rot. So I held my breath, I really didn't want to throw up and hurt her feelings. The grey and red splotched mare pulled away from me and wriggled on the spot, the few strands she had that consisted of her mane flopping in front of her unfocused eyes.

New Appleloosa also had this going for it, and as far as I was concerned she was the main reason this place hadn't been destroyed by a larger force already. Nopony wanted to inconvenience or hurt the feelings of Ditzy Doo.

I took a step back from the mare and smiled. She was a little too affectionate at times and had personal space issues, but she was such a sweetheart that nopony could hate her for it. Though, there were still a few ponies here or there that had reservations about Ghouls on a general principle. Although when it came to Ditzy Doo, it was a universal and unspoken consensus that you kept your opinion to yourself.

I dug into my saddlebags and smirked at her when my hoof came in contact with what I was searching for. I let her stew for a moment, that needy expression on her face becoming priceless. Before her excitement made her explode I pulled out a box, the red band on the side spelled out "Hoofsted Flour: All the Baking Goodness You Need."

The look on the mares face was worth the squishy hug and more. Her bright smile lifted and beamed so bright it was like a small ray of sunshine that was only meant for me. If she could, I'm sure she'd have squeaked in joy.

"It's a full box and was hard to find, so try not to use it all up too quickly." I advised her. She nodded and took it from me, hugging it to her chest before giving me a few caps in its place as payment. I counted out what she'd given me and sighed before I gave her a stern look. Her hoof began shuffling on the floor before she extended it again, allowing me to place some of the caps she'd given me back into her hoof. "You know not to do that."

She nodded and gave me a bashful smile. Despite the lack of red on her cheeks, I was sure that she was blushing. I shook my head, unable to stay annoyed at her. My only irritation was that she had a habit of doing this. I didn't like being over-paid for work. Forty caps for a tub of flour was a bit much, it was thirty, tops, and that's including the service of picking it up for her. I had a reputation to keep and build, and I'd rather it was a little higher than a whore that would do anything for extra caps rather than make honest business transactions.

"Run along." I said as I shooed her off. She beamed again before padding away, the few strands left of her golden tail swishing as she walked, her stumpy 'wings' lifted high, and if they'd had their bones and feathers still attached to said stumps, I'm sure they'd have been spread in delight. Yes, Ditzy Doo was a pegasus, and no, I had absolutely no issues with her, because Ditzy Doo had NEVER abandoned the surface, and to my knowledge, that mare had never abandoned anyone.

A light bump at my flank turned my attention to Stranger who stood behind me. Despite him being the one to have bumped me, he was looking everywhere but at me. I rolled my eyes. It was a theory his that Ditzy had a 'thing' for me. I supposed it was possible. I took the time once in a while to get her things that she'd have difficulty getting elsewhere, like the flour. That mare sure liked her muffins. She was also quick to hug me, I supposed I could ask her not to, but the mare liked hugs and I'd feel bad if I denied her that just because I couldn't stand a bit of a smell and squish once in a while. But even if she DID like me, she was a ghoul, so NOT going to happen. I had standards, and decaying flesh was WAY below them on the dating scale.

"Come on." I grumbled, and together Stranger and I trotted off into the bustling market. They seemed to be having a good haul today. There were a few groups hanging around some of the merchants, and the tinkering of caps told me that a fair bit of profit was being made on both sides. The market was split off into two sides; the left side was for defence, and the right for offence. If you needed healing supplies, barding and armour, you went to the left, if you needed guns, knives, hammers and other weapons of death, then you went to the right.

"IF-28 'Chikasaw' Sniper Rifle here!" A merchant to our right shouted out, his unicorn magic holding aloft a worn and somewhat battered rifle that, judging by its shine, he had attempted to fix and polish up himself. "You there!" He demanded, pointing a hoof at me and Stranger. "You look like you could use it. Wha'd'ya say?" He asked with a large sales-pony grin.

His coat was a similar colour to mine, a light blue that had become dusty over time with dirt and grime, but his mane was a sallow pale colour that was somewhere between yellow and white. It gave him a sickly air.

"Five thousand caps," he announced with sparkle in his eyes. A tell-tale sign that he thought this a fair price.

"I could get two rifles in better condition for that much. Besides, we don't need it." I said.

The sales-pony drooped as Stranger slipped out his II-12, a sniper rifle made by Ironclad Industries. It was sleek chrome and black, it gleamed due to Strangers habitual nightly polish of the weapon. Marred only by a scratch above the grip where some old etchings had been scoured into illegibility.

The sales-ponies expression went from disappointed to one that could only be described as 'eager', his ears perking up and a grin spread far across his cheeks as his hooves clopped together.

"Any chance ya'd be willin' ta part with it? I'd pay ya handsomely."

His request was met with a deadpan expression before the rifle was tucked away back into its holster.

"Not for sale." Stranger's voice sounded deep and guttural from behind those bandages, the only sign that it was him that spoke were the movements of his jawline, because he never opened his mouth wide enough to part the bandages. The voice suited his large stature well, but the bass of it often caught ponies off-guard when they heard it. The good thing about having such a voice is that when Stranger spoke, ponies listened. I wasn't quite sure what it was that had that effect. It could be the bass, the pronunciation of his words, or maybe it was simply that he was a big fella with a big gun. Probably the latter.

We stepped past the stallions stall and slipped down the street to a small little corner.

A single stall occupied the space at the end of the street, behind it sat an office that was little more than sheets of metal propped up by wood panelling. On either side of the stall sat two guards wearing heavy-duty looking armour and both carried well-kept shotguns, both glared at Stranger and I as we approached. Sitting behind the stall was a singular white mare with an orange mane. She wore a wide brimmed hat and chewed the end of a pencil as she looked over a clipboard that sat in front of her on a paper strewn stall table. I glanced up at the large sign above the stall where large red painted letters spelled out "Morab's".

I padded to the side of the stall where a large wooden panel had been erected for advertising. I made a show of 'humming' and 'harring' as I pretended to look over the jobs that were available, though one near the bottom of the board had caught my attention, if not for its content more due to the amount of names that had been signed up.

The sound of my 'hums' and 'hars' didn't go unnoticed, and the mare grumbled as she looked up at me. "Tome?" She asked, her voice a flat sound of annoyance that spoke of a keen displeasure.

"Oh, hey Morab, I didn't see you there." I answered as I flashed a patented charming grin at the mare. "I have a present for you."

"You got the box." She said flatly. Her words weren't toned as a question, she knew me too well to believe I'd ever come back empty hoofed.

Morab Arts was the local contract dealer for New Appleloosa. Most towns had a stall like it, and often there was some good communication between them. Local issues, individual requests, or calls to arms for future plans could be advertised. If anypony was up for earning some caps, they could do some of the work. To hear the stories told, you'd be considered a mercenary; doing swift deeds, of heroic valour, earning your wealth in the wasteland as you moved from contract to contract, building a name for yourself that might herald you wherever you trotted...well in reality there was not much fighting, the issues could just be a nest of bloatsprites, or parts to unclog a sewage system, or to go gather a box from some bloody wannabe Raiders. Really we were more like couriers than mercenaries.

Speaking of said box, Morab's hoof was held out, her face brokering no room for my antics.

"Wow." I said, feigning a hurt look at her. "You take all my fun away, you know that?" I asked her, giving her the saddest eyes I could. "It hurts."

"Good. Now hoof it over." she said.

No fun at all, I gave it to her with a chuckle and she snatched it from my hooves. She turned it over in her hooves, inspecting it before she pulled a small funny looking key out from under her desk. The key looked to be silver and it was engraved with strange markings.

"You can open it?" I asked, eyeing the small key.

"The client gave me the key so I could verify the contents before I cough up the caps." She mumbled as she slipped the key into the lock and turned it twice. The lid popped open with a springy click.

"Is that a...?" I asked, letting my voice trail off. It was a stupid question. I knew a memory orb when I saw one, but this one was different. Memory orbs were filled with a milky white fog. This orb was jet black, and the insides swirled as I stared; gathering, dispersing, and reforming. Secrets, knowledge, and mysteries were dancing wisps hiding just past my distorted reflection.

The lid snapped closed and the lock clicked as Morab sealed it, slipping the box under the table and out of sight.

"Sooooo, a memory orb?" I asked curiously.

"I'm not at liberty to talk about it. That's the clients business, not yours." She pulled out a sack of caps and slid them over to me. "Take your earnings."

"Well who's the client? I might want to ask them some questions." I asked as I put the bottlecaps away. I'd count them, but Morab wasn't stingy on the caps. She paid what the job advertised, and that was that.

"Steam Bolt." She said, giving me a glance.

"The slaver?" I asked as my curiosity screeched to a halt.

"Yup. I'm assuming you want to negotiate with the client about getting to view the orb yourself. I know you enjoy digging around. I have a direct line to him if you'd like me to send him a message?" She asked, her pretty red eyes batting at me in mock innocence as she smiled.

"Erm, no, I don't think so." I grumbled, sitting back. I wonder if I could sneak into her place sometime in the night and steal the orb before she could send it off on courier. "Say, your bar open tonight? I'd love to spend a few caps on some good drinks." I lathered my voice with all of the niceties I could muster, giving her my most innocent and award winning smile.

"Rather than pretending to get drunk in my bar, take a bed there for the night, wait for the place to calm down before you sneak around my place and steal the orb for a few hours..." She said. "You could always ask if I'd be interested in letting you view it for a price before I give it Steam Bolt."

I gasped. "What? Sneak around your home? I would never-" I stopped when I met her eyes. I scratched the nape of my neck. "So, erm, how much?"

"Ten thousand caps." She said with a smirk.

I coughed. I couldn't help it, I felt like I was choking on my tongue. "HOW much?" I demanded. "Just to view an orb?!"

"It's information." She shrugged. "Information is as pricey in the Wasteland as anything else. You should understand that, didn't you once pay five hundred caps just for a book?"

I turned away from her and grumbled under my breath. "It was one I hadn't read." I defended.

"Wow, a book you haven't read, I hear they're becoming rare. Didn't you clear out the Ponyville Library last month just to read the books in there, how'd that go?"

"Not well." I mumbled, the memory of the incident bringing a sour taste. "Raider's had started painting blood on the walls, blood ain't good for books. Most of them were mush. There must have been hundreds of books in there, and like twelve were actually legible." I grumbled.

"You read all twelve?" She asked, her brow rising in curiosity.

I nodded before scratching the back of my neck again. "Anyway, you owe me another two hundred caps."

"I do?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "The contract had a bonus on it, if I killed Bronco and his lackeys there was a two hundred cap bonus."

I stood there smiling, with those caps I could at least get a few drinks, some healing potions and maybe get some patching up done on my barding. I sat there waiting for her to give me my caps but all she did was lean over her table and start looking down at my hooves as though searching for something.

"What?" I asked, glancing down, trying to see if I was trotting shit everywhere or something.

"I don't see them." She said as she shrugged and slipped back into her rickety seat.

"What?" I repeated. She was about to cheat me out of some caps, I knew it.

"Heads." She said as she turned back to her clipboard of sums and notes. "The contract said to bring back their heads for the bonus." She said, casually pointing a hoof at the board.

"No it didn't!" I said, turning to the board. "That can't be right." I slipped my eyes down to the bottom, found the contract, read over it and grinned. "AH HAH! SEE!" I exclaimed as I began to read aloud. "[Optional]: Whilst retrieving the box, a bonus of two hundred caps will be made available if Bronco and his group are executed." I grinned.

"Keep reading." Her voice and confidence were irksome.

I slipped my eyes down to the next paragraph. "Proof of each Optional objective shall be needed to validate their completion. The heads of Bronco and his gang should be presented with the box to be considered eligible for the mentioned bonus." I finished, dumbfounded.

"I don't see any heads." Morab said, not bothering to look up from her clipboard.

I seethed. "Oh buck you. You could get easy info from the area to confirm they're dead."

"Fuck you too. Dead don't matter. Heads matter." She replied, still not lifting her eyes to meet my gaze.

"You got any more jobs then? Because without that bonus I've not earned enough to buy a round of drinks, let alone fix up my gear. I was counting on that bonus."

"And I'm counting on a stallion with a tree trunk between his legs to sweep me off my hooves and carry me into the sunset." She said. "But sadly, that's not likely to happen. Just like you and your jobs, they're all full."

I flashed another grin. "I'm quite well endowed."

This time she looked up at me, and while she may have tried to hide it, I could see her eyes flicker down my body before they hardened and her smile turned into something more akin to a sneer.

"Sorry, I've got a rule about bumping flanks with the local asshole." She said sweetly.

I sighed and turned my attention back to the board. "You must have something for me, guys gotta make a living." I mumbled, my eyes perusing the different contracts. But she was right, they'd either been crossed out as done, or already had names signed up to complete them. Near the bottom was the contract that had caught my attention earlier. This one had a LOT of names, well over thirty.

[Client: Steam Bolt - Steam City Slaver]

[Location: Neighagra Falls Oasis]

The Neighagra Falls Oasis? Why would anypony willingly go there?! I shook my head and continued reading.

[Details: There is a Stable beneath the Neighagra Falls Oasis which has recently been discovered. Stable 2B.-]

Stable 2_B_? Stables didn't have 'A' and 'B' series categories. They were just numbered from 1 and up. This contract was making less and less sense the more I read about it. I continued reading anyway.

[-This Stable is reliably sourced to have advanced technology that is within the interests of the client. Acquisition of this technology is considered priority one.]

[Optional: Chances of Stable being occupied less than 20%. If in the case of occupation, live acquisition of Stable residents considered secondary priority. 400 Caps per resident bonus.]

I stared at that 'Optional' objective and let out a sigh. This was an acquisition, and potential slaving contract. Well that wasn't fun.

[Pay: 10,000 Caps pp (per person)]

Well that explained a few things. Neighagra Falls was a death sentence, but for ten thousand caps just for participating there were always going to be a few that would jump at such a contract. And with four hundred caps as a bonus per head, a group of thirty infiltrators, a Stable average holding of around five hundred to one thousand residents...this was a life changing contract. A pony could make their life worth living with this kind contract, and it wouldn't be that hard.

I glanced at the sign up list. All thirty slots were filled.

I thought about it for a moment before checking some of the names. When I spotted two familiar ones I grinned as a plan formed in my brain.

I turned back to Morab smiling. "So, about that drink tonight."

*** *** ***

Morab Arts wasn't just a contract dealer, a salespony, and something of a swindler, she was also the head barmare of the local 'Morab Arts Tavern', although it was a popular consensus that if she kept conducting business the way she did, she was likely to lose it soon enough.

The bar she ran was walled with girders and filled with tin sheets that sectioned off areas. The bar itself was quite nice, there was alcohol aplenty, and ponies could relax in beds upstairs for a price each night. How she'd gotten it set up I wasn't quite sure. It was comfortable to sit at, it got polished a few times a week, and the place never attracted that bad a crowd. The problem was the prices. Morab overcharged.

I slipped into the 'Morab Arts Tavern' and looked around. My nose wrinkled at the piss weak smell of shitty bear. Nopony really liked it in here, but it was the only place in town to get a drink, and here in the Wasteland a drink was always needed.

I slipped onto a stool by the bar where I was flanked on either side by two stallions wearing combat armour and carrying shotguns.

"Barrel, Pegleg." I said in greeting to both of the stallions. They turned to me as I flashed a grin before moving my attention to Morab who was speaking to a mare at the end of the bar. "Hey. How about some drinks over here?"

"Tome," Barrel's guttural voice greeted in return. Pegleg however just grunted in acknowledgment.

Barrel was a large brown stallion with a jet black mane. He smelled of gunpowder and his temper could be just as explosive. Pegleg was much like his name might suggest. Small, thin, and wiry, a grey coat with a dark grey mane, and two back hooves that were just stumps of wood he used for prosthetics.

"What'll it be?" The barmare asked with a narrowed gaze. I wasn't that regular of a customer, alcohol wasn't my vice of choice and she knew it, so any reason I could have to be in her bar, wasn't a reason she would likely welcome.

"I'd like to buy an extra round for these two fine stallions."

"I don't swing that way." Barrel grunted, taking a swig of his drink, a drink that was almost empty.

I shook my head dramatically. "What? No, no, I'm not propositioning you, I'm helping you celebrate. It's a good luck drink. I saw your names on the board out there, you're going up to that Stable for the Steam Bolt job?"

He eyed me for a moment before nodding.

"Well that place is a death trap. So I figured you two deserved a drink as a send-off." I explained as I paid Morab for the overpriced pisswater, plus a small tip. She took the caps before preparing the drinks. that mare never said 'no' to caps. I'd made sure to get a drink for myself and reached over for it. My hoof moved too quick and I didn't grasp the beer in time before the mug splashed its contents all over, soaking Barrel's outfit in the process.

"Oh fuck you!" He yelled, standing up, his front drenched.

"Oh, I am so sorry; I'm a bit of a klutz today." I said with a dramatic sigh. "Might be a concussion from my recent job, took a few knocks to the head ya know. Go get yaself dried up in the toilet, I'll mind ya drink."

He grunted at me before shuffling away with a myriad of grumbles. I pulled his drink close with my prosthetic hoof, opening a small catch on the side and sprinkled a small white powder into the drink.

"What you doin'?" Pegleg asked.

I moved the drink closer. "Just keeping his drink safe." I smiled. "Enjoying yours?" I asked, my left hoof moving from the drink to his shoulder as I patted it neighborly.

He glanced at my hoof for a moment before looking back at me, his mouth opened as though to speak before he let out a small yelp. I slipped the empty syringe out of his neck and laid it down on the table. Pegleg stared at the syringe before his eyes rolled back and he fell off his stool with a 'thump'.

Everypony turned to look, glancing from the now unconscious Pegleg to myself.

"What the fuck you do?!", Barrel demanded as he returned.

"Don't worry; he'll only be out for twelve hours, I think." I said. Barrel yanked me from my stool and pushed me down onto the bar.

"Hey, careful of ya own drink, I paid for that remember." I grunted as bar dug into my side.

He glared before he grabbed the beer and downed it before slamming the mug back down on the bar.

"Happy? NOW I'll cream ya!"

I raised my brow as he raised his hoof. Then his eyes rolled back and he fell over. Morab's vice was money. Barrel's was alcohol.

I pulled myself up, straightened my jacket, and then turned to Morab who was looking over the two sleeping beauties.

She rolled her eyes before resuming her work. "What did you stick them with?" she stated. She probably didn't like that I drugged two of her customers but she wouldn't do anything. I'd given her a tip after all.

"Not a clue." I admitted. "Found it on the floor of a pharmacy. But I don't think they'll be getting up anytime soon." I sat back down on the bar stool and rubbed my neck to ease the aches that had grown there. I turned back to Morab. "How early does that job start tomorrow by the way, cuz I think you have two spots free and I'd like to sign up?"

*** *** ***

Never before had I seen a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, except perhaps on some rambunctious nights at Morab Arts'.

All together there were thirty of us, thirty destitute ponies, all armed and hearing the distant jingle of bottlecaps in our ears. We were outside in the main market area, the stalls had closed the night before. I and Stranger sat near the back, trying to listen to Morab Arts who stood at the front of the crowd as she gave the details of the contract. It was difficult to hear, mainly because some of the other ponies were chatting to each other and wouldn't shut the hell up.

BANG!

A shot rang and echoed across the now silent crowd. The shot had come from one of the four ponies at the front that stood beside Morab Arts. These were not part of the thirty that had gathered here today. They were ponies of a different sort straight from Steam Bolt himself. Sleek black armour glinted in the early light, covering every inch of their bodies. It was curved and rounded, like an insect. The ponies that wore them were earth ponies, or at least I guessed because of the lack of horn or wings on the armour. Their faces were masked by sleek helmts. For all I knew they could be robots. The side of each of the armours harboured a different array of weaponry, but the one that had fired the shot had large canons sprouting from a battle saddle unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Despite standing still, the pony had angled the barrel up into the air. The cannon, with an audible whir, soon slipped down and faced forward again.

"Thank you." Morab said, looking visibly disgruntled. "These fine bucks-"

"Stallion," I muttered.

"-have come straight from Steam City to supervise this operation. With your participation on this endeavour come a few vital rules." She said, looking out over the crowd. "Once you walk out that gate and start for Stable 2B, you are not allowed to forfeit or abandon this mission. Anypony that abandons their post will be killed." The silence was palpable. "As noted on the contract, the chances of this Stable being occupied are small. However, if it is, please avoid killing them, as capturing them as new slaves for Steam Bolt is worth four hundred caps per head. If you aren't comfortable with slaving, now is your time to leave. If you don't mind it but would rather not do it yourself, then ignore the residents as best you can and let somepony that is okay with slaving make their living. You may kill to defend yourself of course, but only if you absolutely need to. This is a Stable guys, they're pussies, so avoid the trigger. Okay, as a final note, residents are a secondary priority. Primary is tech so keep it all intact, don't blow anything up and gather as much of it as you can. Those that want to leave, do so now, those that are staying, good luck."

The crowd stayed silent and no one made a move to leave. Thirty ponies came, thirty ponies stayed. Thirty ponies didn't have a problem with slaving. I felt Stranger eyeing the back of my head and was grateful when the crowd started moving out.

The journey from New Appleloosa to Neighagra Falls was a long one, at least several hours if we walked without stopping, maybe two days if we took a break. Either way, it was going to be a long walk. A few ponies talked about what they might do with the fortune of caps waiting for them. I myself, preferred to walk in silence rather than strike up conversation with anypony else.

Silence was too much to ask for it seemed.

"Hey." A voice greeted me from my right. We'd been walking for around three hours now in relative peace. Once or twice a few gunshots had rung out from near the front, likely a radroach or some unlucky scavenger crossing our paths. I never saw if it was either, the dangers had never gotten close enough to be a threat to the back of the line.

I turned to the pony and gave him an inquisitive look. "Yes?"

"I'm Copper." He greeted happily.

I looked him up and down. He was young, only a teenager, he had a black mane with an orange streak and sallow yellow coat. His eyes were a brilliant blue. Overall, he was a cute lad.

"Aren't you a little young for this?" I asked

"Hey, I'm twenty-five." He said, flicking his mane out of his eyes.

"No you're not." I sighed. "Your dad know you're out here with us?"

"I told you, I'm twenty-five." He said. "Look, I thought you were cool, that's why I said 'hello', but if you aren't going to be cool, then fuck you."

"You're dads a pretty good drinker ya know."

The buck stumbled and turned to me with his mouth agape.

"You have his eyes."

"How...how did you...okay, you're right, please don't tell my dad!" He hissed at me.

I shrugged. "I don't know your dad."

He stared at me. "But you said-"

"Eye shape is hereditary from paternal lineage; it wasn't hard to figure you'd have your father's eyes most likely. Morab Arts is the only piece of entertainment in town, so your father probably frequents it, especially if he's got a son like you with an obvious rebellious streak stressing him out. Anypony would need a drink after that."

He stared at me. "You're an ass."

"And you are still too young to be here."

"Well I can't leave now can I? If I do I'll be killed by those four big guys. So I'm stuck. Besides, when this is all over, I'll be rich and then I can live on my own." The colt was eager, I'd give him that. I moved away, hoping he'd take the hint so I could ignore him. "So," but he couldn't take a hint of course. "What happened to your leg?"

I felt a ghost of pain slice up my disembodied hoof, it was accompanied by a roiling in my stomach.

"Nothing that concerns you." I snapped at him through gritted teeth.

"Sorry." He gasped before he turned away. He's just a colt dammit. I unclenched my jaw and breathed out heavily.

"What's your name, colt?" I asked. I could feel Stranger watching me again, him with those fucking judgemental eyes.

"I'm not a colt."

"What's your name?" I insisted. Just a colt, a damn irksome colt.

"I told ya before; it's Copper, Copper Twang." He said as he puffed out his chest. "And one day, it'll be a name everyone knows. I'm gonna get some money, retire in Tenpony, and get some ponies to train me to be a really good fighter, and then be a ranger for them, raiding the ruins for food and chems and stuff, and then I'll make a name for myself, I'll be the Copper Ranger, the best in the land." I could taste this colt's confidence and it was pretty sour.

"Where you grow up?" I asked, adding the word 'colt' onto the end of the sentence in my head.

"All over the place," he shrugged. "My dad used to be a trader before he settled down. I learned how to shoot when I was young, so I know how to defend myself."

"You ever killed a pony?" I asked.

He balked at that. Then shook his head.

"You don't know shit." I said. The colt drooped as I said that. "but you will by the time this is over."

"I will?" He said as he cocked his head. "But we're not supposed to kill residence, and there might not even be anypony in there."

"You're right, but if residents aren't in there, that means it was never sealed. Stables were only sealed once they were full, so this'll be wide open if there are no residents. That means it'll be the home to something else, something nasty. But if it was filled, they could all be dead; and what killed them might be waiting for us. Whether by some terrible experiment, a break in, etc. In which case we're back to something nasty waiting for us." I shrugged, giving him a glance. The colt's pupils were pinpoints and he seemed fixed on me. "But hey, let us say, for arguments sake, that there are ponies in there just waiting for collars around their necks. The average stable houses upwards of five hundred residences, there are thirty of us. We're far more heavily armed and experienced so yeah, we'll win, but they WILL have weapons too, maybe not many, but they will have some. That means they'll be fighting back." I turned to him, looking down at his holstered pistol. "What you got there?"

"Erm, 9mm." I could only sigh. I reached into my coat and pulled out my spare.

"This is 10mm, automatic. Point, pull the trigger, and try not to hit me."

"Thanks, what're you gonna use?" He asked as he looked the pistol over.

I turned to Stranger, meeting his eye. "I don't need to worry, I've got him."

*** *** ***

Neighagra Falls had once been a beautiful and serene place. The towering waterfalls that tumbled into the ever after churned frothy water in the glistening sunlight. Or at least they once had. In an effort to gain electric power to the local bases in the area, Neighagra Fall's had been the site of the first pony built dam. The water became controlled, and the falls changed from a sight of beauty to one of industrialism.

The dam was seven-hundred feet high, built out of concrete and filled with generators, pre-war tech and enough hollow space inside for hundreds and thousands of ponies to be hidden away. The dam's rooms were said to travel below the water and well into the rock below with rooms and chambers and more resources than any pony could grasp for themselves. Sounds like the perfect place to scavenge or even take shelter in doesn't it? Many once thought so.

Many of the inner chambers had flooded overtime with the water from the gorge, and those weren't waters you wanted to go swimming in to get around.

But I supposed the most interesting part of Neighagra Falls, was the Neighagra Falls Oasis.

There, sat in the middle of the gorge lake behind the dam that lapped at the edges of the stony structure was a small little island. It was so small that it was barely a few meters across, and contained a single tree. But it got stranger; this was perhaps one of the few places I had ever seen grass growing. Not just growing, but GREEN. It was green and lush, and the tree flowered and gave fruit and the water was a clear blue and sparkled gorgeously. Everything looked so inviting. This was exactly why nopony came to Neighagra Falls. Nopony wanted to die.

We didn't know why or what was happening to this area, but the water and that little island appeared to be so magically irradiated that it caused some...peculiarities. The water had a higher radiation average than any other water source in the entire of wasteland. The islands green grass was so irradiated that eating it guaranteed cancer and death, and may Celestia have mercy on anypony that ate the fruit of the tree. Neighagra Falls was a death trap.

"So," I began, turning to one of the large black armoured ponies, hoping to answer the question on everypony's mind. "How do we get in?"

He/She/It didn't look at me, but they at least did grace me with an answer. "Over the last eight to ten years the radiation in this area has been waning significantly, it is now safe to enter so long as RadAway and RadX precautions are taken." His voice was gruff and deep and muffled by the helmet he wore, but at least I knew his gender now.

"Radiation doesn't just go." I said, thinking out loud more than making an attempt at conversation. "If two hundred years haven't been enough time for the Wasteland, ten won't be for this place. Which means there's something here cleaning the radiation out of the surrounding environment, which I'm assuming is what Steam Bolt wants?" I concluded, watching the stallion's reactions.

This time he did turn to me, and even though I couldn't see his expression or his eyes, I got the distinct feeling he was displeased.

"Who are you?" He asked. "You seem...educated."

I fixed him with a steady stare. "I'm just a smart pony."

There was a stand-off between us, an unspoken animosity that said this stallion really didn't like me, and I wasn't sure I much liked him either. Eventually he seemed to understand that I was the stubborn sort, so he looked away and trotted towards the dam.

"Follow me." He called out to everyone, the other three insect-armoured ponies flanked him as the thirty strong group slowly moved toward the water's edge.

We were led down the bank and round to one of the access doors in the dam. The door was metal and firmly placed in the concrete of the massive structure.

After everypony had taken a dose of RadX and made sure they had spare satchels of RadAway handy, the door was yanked open. The view that greeted us wasn't comforting. The door lead into a small narrow corridor, which meant ponies would be walking in two files at most, this made for easy pickings. We'd be bottlenecked if it came to any kind of fight, but nopony other than me seemed to be paying attention to this fact. Two of the big black armoured ponies entered, while the other two herded us in. Stranger and I were near the front of the crowd; I'd made a point of slipping forward to put as much distance between myself and 'Copper Twang' as I could. The colt was bugging me.

The corridors were surprising. Not only were they thinner than foretold making it a tight fit for all of us, but they were well lit. The lights buzzed while filling the corridor with an artificial glow. How this place was still working after two hundred years I couldn't fathom. It was probably earth pony ingenuity; I couldn't imagine any unicorn spells lasting this long. That wasn't to claim the superiority of earth ponies, more to simply point out the different strengths in terms of creativity.

The two black ponies in front led us down the corridors pausing only at intersections. We moved to the end of this one and turned left. Another corridor dipped down into radioactive water. The black armoured freaks trotted forward, wading right into it and we followed them. The water was up to our necks, and it was difficult to see ahead of us. Floating around in the water was a myriad of pre-war items. Some wonderglue, tape, what looked to be an old radio, and even some clothing. Maybe some ponies had once used this place to hold up. Maybe it'd had a staff at some point that lived in the dam and kept its generators running.

The corridors eventually levelled out and the water level dropped. We now trotted our way through puddles of water that splashed around our hooves. The corridor we were in had several other turns, and a few of them seemed to have rooms. I looked around us as we walked by stacks and shelves of things and pre-war tech that seemed untouched.

"Come on." I whispered to Stranger and quickly extricated myself from the crowd and down a different corridor. He trotted after me without a word, even though leaving the group probably warranted our deaths. I slipped out of sight with Stranger into a nearby room, the door had been wedged open at some point. It was dented in as though somepony in the past had tried to force it open, curious considering the rest of the place seemed pristine. The room was a medium sized office, there were filing cabinets along one wall and a desk with a terminal sat in the corner. I padded over to it, the radioactive water sloshing around me. I hoped this water damage hadn't messed up the computer systems. Though considering the rest of the places electronics hadn't been compromised was probably a good sign.

The terminal lit up with a soft green glow as I flipped the power switch, and of course it had a password. I opened the computers terminal before typing in a few short commands. A new window opened up, displaying a seemingly random array of characters and words. It was a wonder Stable-Tec computers used to be so popular, considering they had such a huge vulnerability in its operating system. Somewhere in the mess of characters and words was the root password for the system. It took me a few tries and once I had to back out to avoid being locked out of the terminal. But I finally found the password, 'DAWN', and the screen opened onto two options, 'Personnel' and 'Governmental'. I selected the 'Personnel' first and was greeted by more options replacing the previous ones. I selected the first one entitled 'Messages' out of curiosity. The list that greeted me was surprising. This terminal alone had received over seventy messages. I selected the latest one.

'Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Protocol Demands We Begin Immediately.

Dear Lucretius Song, this conversation has become tiresome. The projects are being sealed away at my request and the Stage 3 products will arrive this evening for storage. Please take care as these will include the 'GE11-2' as well as the 'NMA01'. It is highly important that you do the job I asked of you. My predictions show that we are entering the final stages of the war, and if this tech is not accounted for in the safety of Stable 2B, then the future of Equestria may be in danger, and that danger will rest on your hesitation. Please do this; I need to make sure there is a way to save Equestria if all else fails.

Twilight Sparkle

M.A.S. Ministry Mare'

I sucked in a breath. A message from Twilight Sparkle? Well that was a find. But the conversation made no sense. I began perusing some of the older messages, but they seemed to revolve around this Lucretius Song character arguing with the Ministry Mare about whether or not it would be wise to seal the tech away so soon when they could still be of use. Twilight seemed to be more focused on saving the tech rather than using it. It made me wonder if she'd known the bombs would really fall. I backed out of the emails and moved down to the next selection, 'Stable Inventory'. The screen suddenly flashed for a moment and the green glow was replaced with a cool blue one that I'd never seen on a terminal before. On the screen was another request for a password, with a pixelated Equestria flag waving above it.

"Erm...okay." I used the shortcut that would usually open the terminal prompt, but the moment I pressed it, the screen turned itself off. I glanced over at Stranger who was watching me looking quite unimpressed. "Hey, I didn't break it." A beep caught my attention.

'ERROR: Hacking Attempt Registered'

Oh?

'9'

Why was the number nine taking up the screen?

'8'

'7'

Why is it counting down?

'6'

'5'

This was probably not a good thing.

'4'

'3'

I turned and dived out of the way to the end of the room.

'2'

We grabbed the filing cabinets and yanked them down with a crash; we then jumped on top of them to get above the water.

BOOM!

The computer screen exploded in a shower of sparks, several of its wires split open from the surge and the water that had been sloshing at our hooves lit up for a moment as arcane electricity surged through it.

I tapped the water to make sure it was no longer shocked before stepping down and approaching the smoking terminal. I felt Strangers eyes on my back.

"Okay, so not one of my finest moments." I said, attempting to save face. Stranger didn't seem to buy it. "Hey, we found out some things. The Ministry of Arcane Sciences, or at least the Ministry Mare herself, was using Stable 2B as a storage site. That's interesting." Stranger didn't seem to agree.

The sound of gunfire in the distance told me that the group had finally made it to the Stable, and like predicted, some of them just couldn't help but be trigger happy. I sighed as I sat down on the overturned filing cabinets.

"Might as well twiddle our hooves for a bit," I said as I pulled out some RadAway and gulped it down. I had no idea how much radiation I'd soaked up through the water at my hooves, but it probably wasn't healthy. Not that it mattered much. "Not like there's anything we can do. We'll wait for the others to be done, go and take our own share of the loot and head back to collect the cap reward."

As always the stoic silence of my partner gave me the gut feeling that he was judging me negatively for my actions. Would he rather I be in there slaving with the rest of them? The cacophony of yells and gunfire was loud enough to penetrate even these thick walls, but it slowly dwindled to a distant sound after about half an hour. Stranger and I waited there for about an hour total before we figured it was best to get moving. We walked back down the corridor and passed some of the others in the group. They were laughing and dragging three ponies between them, two stallions in security barding, and one mare whose flank was bloody around the thighs. She limped a little, sniffling with each step. I let them pass.

I was getting sick of those judgmental eyes boring into the back of my skull. I grit my teeth and refused to look at Stranger as we moved down the corridor. We eventually found the Stable door after two turns, finding the right direction by the slow procession of ponies and newly captured slaves filing out.

The door to the Stable was an unusual one. Usually a Stable door would lead into a basic area that connected to the rest of the interior, but this one lead to a staircase that went down further. I stared down the stairs and I was about to take a step down before I heard something on the very edge of my hearing. I turned away from the Stable doorway and listened. The soft sloshing of the water that trickled down the stairs and the constant trotting of hooves around us as ponies milled out of the Stable dragging others that whined, whinnied and cried out to be saved were the only sounds that met my ears. But I was sure that in that singular moment of silence I'd heard the sound of somepony else crying. And it hadn't come from the inside of the Stable.

I turned away and headed down a different corridor, turning around a corner and as quietly as I could, began moving down. Sadly, stealth wasn't a virtue I had in abundance. The soft clink of my prosthetic hoof accompanied my walk. A sharp breath stopped me outside a door that was opened just a hair. I opened it, finding an office similar to the previous one, but this one's filing cabinets looked to have been raided. Paper and trash floated about in the hoof deep water that still rolled around on the floor. In the same corner as before, sat a desk and a computer terminal, except this one was still sparking. Maybe some pony had made the same mistake I had and blew it up. Didn't seem that bad a theory, after all, it'd exploded on me and I was a smart pony.

What made the scene interesting was that I wasn't the only one in the room. There, standing in front of the desk and staring at me with a jittery expression was a stallion was at least a decade my senior. He had amber eyes and a dirty lime green coat, he wore a wide brimmed hat and his dishevelled long brown mane hung around his neck and shoulders in a mess that would have covered his eyes were it not for the hat holding it back. His hide was covered in leather barding, complete with a vest.

He was also looking at me wearily. My first instinct was to hit him.

"Lucky Horseshoe," I greeted softly, keeping my urges in check while glancing from him to the desk. "It's been a while."

"Hey Tale," he greeted stiffly, glancing around himself nervously.

"'Didn't think this kind of gig was up your street."

"Well, ya know," he began, eyeing me. "'Gotta survive somehow."

"I thought you avoided groups as a rule, because of your...problem." I said while leering at him, wondering if I could buck him up the head before he could react...I probably couldn't.

"As I said, need the caps." He glared at me, looking less nervous.

"What's behind the desk, Lucky?" I challenged, taking a step closer, the soft clink of my hoof drawing his attention.

"You're leg." He stared at the limb with wide eyes, the silence among those two words palpable between us. "Did you...?" His voice trailed off as he asked with a slight note of concern. The concern just made me want to hit him more.

My eyes narrowed. "What's behind the desk?" I asked again as I approached.

He stared at me before his eyes narrowed. "What are you going to do, Tale?"

We stared at each other challengingly for a bit before the sound of a gun cocking could be heard behind us. A slight smirk slipped over my features. Stranger had him dead to rights.

Lucky Horseshoe glanced over my shoulder at what I could only guess was the sight of the large figure of Stranger holding his II-12 in his magical grip, aimed squarely at Lucky's head.

I stepped around the stallion confidently, and pushed the desk out of the way to reveal a curled up unicorn filly looking quite terrified of me.

She had a sallow yellow coat, a dirt brown mane and grey and yellow Stable 2B barding. Her cutiemark was a circular winding flower rooting out of a seed. Her brown eyes were dilated with fear.

"Dammit Lucky." I said under my breath.

My attention went to the door as two ponies barged in.

"What's goin' on in here? Everypony's lookin' for ya!" The unicorn talking had a red coat, black mane and bright yellow eyes. He wore metal barding and carried a shotgun at his side, coated in the soft glow of his magic. The other stallion had a yellow coat with an orange mane. He carried a revolver in his mouth.

The moment they saw the filly a bright grin stretched across the red stallion's mouth. From the doorway another pony stepped in. His black mane with an orange streak and yellow coat were distinctive enough for me to recognise. Copper Twang.

"Oh, hey," he greeted the moment he saw me.

There was a moment of silence and awkwardness. I didn't know how I was going to handle this situation. I might be able to talk our way out of this, but unfortunately Lucky decided to do something very stupid.

"You are not having her!" He yelled, standing between us and the filly. I facehoofed.

"What?" The red stallion asked, chuckling. "Residents get taken. That's the rules. Shove a collar on her and let's get going."

"I won't let you enslave her." This idiot was going to get us all killed. I heard the cock of a barrel and saw the red stallion readying his shotgun.

"Wait, you really don't want to be doing that." I said, moving to stand between Lucky and the red stallion.

"What are you doin'?" Copper Twang approached, looking confused.

"His name is Lucky Horseshoe's, and he is not a pony you want to try shooting." I said firmly. I'd seen first-hoof what happened to ponies that thought Lucky was easy pickings.

"Get out of here Tale; I don't need your help." Lucky grumbled.

"What's going on?" Copper Twang looked very confused.

"Get out of the way or I'll shoot you too!" The red stallion demanded.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" I yelled, panting. All this noise in the area was giving me a headache. I coughed for a moment, feeling a writhing in my chest before I managed to make myself calm down. I wiped my mouth and looked around. A filly behind me, being protected by a pony I'd wished I'd never meet again, two idiots in front of me that were feeling trigger happy, a young colt looking to prove himself a stallion, and Stranger in the doorway. He was a good ten paces away, but even in this dull lighting I could see that gaze of his; sapphire, deep, and always judging, watching to see what I would do. It was like he was waiting for something. Like he always had been. Just waiting for me.

Fuck.

Bang! My gun was out and smoking before anypony could react.

_Bang!_Stranger's gun went off, killing the other stallion, dropping the second one to the floor, blood pooling into the water at our hooves. Two corpses.

Copper Twang's eyes went wide; he pulled out the gun I'd given him. The 10mm. And he decided to aim it right at me.

"Don't do it." I asked him softly. I could see him hesitating, he had it aimed at me and his grip on it was shaking. I glanced to Stranger, but I saw he'd put his gun away. He wouldn't interfere. He was just watching.

The bastard.

Bang!

I ducked low and forward, the bullet slicing into my shoulder and the pain flashed and burned. I slipped my mouth down, gripped the shiv in my collar with my mouth and thrust. I felt wetness against my muzzle.

I could feel the colts shaking body as he leaned against me, the blade in his throat. "I'm sorry." I said softly. The boy fell into the water.

I'd killed a child.

I was silent for a bit, staring down at the colt. He'd wanted to prove himself a stallion. I heard approaching hooves behind me.

"Thank you." Lucky said, the gratitude lathered his voice.

I decked him. I turned and hit him with as much force as I could. He was just lucky I didn't choose to use my left hoof. It wasn't any stronger than my right, but metal hurt a lot more than hooves.

He splashed to the ground unconscious. Dammit, hitting him hadn't improved my mood.

I stepped over Lucky's body, glancing down to make sure he at least wasn't going to drown in the few inches of water below us. When I was confident he wasn't I turned to the filly. I stared down at her. She looked terrified. I glanced at my shoulder, the wound still itched and burned but it wasn't too bad. The filly in front of me glanced to my wound and then to the now dead ponies on the floor. She swayed for a moment before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed. She'd feinted.

"Stable ponies," I grumbled and turned away, heading for the door. Stranger made no move to let me past. He stood in the doorway, blocking me. I tried to move around him, but he moved to cut me off again. "What are you doing?" I asked carefully, looking up at him. He stared back at me, his only visible eye boring into me. "What?" I asked dangerously, my eyes narrowing. "What do you want from me?" I asked. I was sick of this. Sick of his judgemental stares, sick of his silent stoic fucking manner, and sick of that single fucking eye! "WHAT?!"

He didn't move and he didn't speak. He just stared. Waiting.

I felt my stomach twist in knots and I turned back to the filly, if only to look at something other than him. "You want me to save her don't you?" I already knew the answer, he didn't need to give it, and he chose not to anyway. "She'd be better off if I didn't." I grumbled. "She's a Stable pony." I turned to him, leering, wishing I could make him feel what I was feeling. "She won't survive outside. Stables are kind. Outside isn't kind. If she gets a good owner she'll be fed, maybe homed. If she's unlucky she'll be treated like shit and maybe even raped, but slaves are expensive so most'll try their best to not kill her at least." I argued. "It's a kinder life than what she'd have with me."

He still refused to move. I wanted to rage against him, but he'd probably stamp me out if I tried. I felt something slither and crawl in my throat again and it drew out another bought of painful coughing. I turned away from him when the coughing subsided. I wiped my mouth. "I fucking hate you."

*** *** ***

With a soft click the mechanical collar latched in place around the unconscious filly's neck. I felt sick locking that thing on her. It was sleek black and might have been considered an okay accessory, were it not for the glowing red band along it and the fact that it couldn't be taken off by the wearer. I picked the filly up and slipped her onto my back before walking out of the room. This time Stranger let me pass. I hesitated for a single moment before asking him to carry Lucky as well. I'd rather not leave the stallion behind to be killed.

We didn't attract much attention from the others as we moved through the corridors and out of the dam. One stallion did ask us about the shooting, but we explained it off as some of the ponies trying to ditch their jobs, so I had to put them down. Walking around with a collared filly on my back and the dead ponies were good enough evidence to halt their prying. Lucky was explained as having taken a hit to the head during the fight. That one was more or less true.

The unconscious filly on my back made my insides feel heavy as I walked. I stole glances at Stranger, but he refused to meet my gaze. I was so tempted to hit him.

We began heading back as a group. Some of us had died, and judging by the amount of ponies taken as slaves, many of them had died too. What I did notice, was a distinct lack of large tech despite the orders. I'd seen a few saddlebags full, but other than that I'd expected some large machinery hauling. Even the black armoured ponies were carrying light. Maybe something had gone wrong, and my absence meant I'd missed something crucial. It was a mystery that I pondered for a bit, not out of any actual interest, truth be told I couldn't give a crap, but if I didn't make myself think of something I was going to deck Stranger like I had Lucky. Truth be told I was surprised I'd landed the hit on that old stallion. Lucky wasn't the easiest of ponies to face in a fight. Things don't go the way you want them to when fighting him.

I had no idea what I was going to do. I couldn't leave the procession of ponies or I'd get shot. I couldn't steal the filly away, and I certainly couldn't leave Lucky to his own devices, he was a bit of a disaster and that'd likely end up as a disaster for me.

I looked up to the horizon ahead of me, pony hooves thundered in my ears, interrupted by the clink of my hoof as we walked. I scowled as a wrongness roiled through my insides. I had a bad feeling I was going to be stuck with a filly from a Stable and an asshole from my past for longer than I'd like. And worse, I had another feeling I wasn't going to get paid.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Small Surprises - Your use of impromptu weapons have made you a skilled surprise attacker. +10 damage on unsuspecting ponies when using your shiv.

(Authors Note: Here it is. My own Fo:E story, hurray for joining the fad. I've planned this story out HEAVILY, and plan for it to be quite lengthy. How lengthy? Personally...no idea. I'm releasing chapters all the way to chapter two first thing, and then spreading it around online like a maniac as you'll find out.

I'd like to give special thanks to Kkat for writing the original Fallout: Equestria, and a special thanks to my editor, Mission, who is doing AMAZING work. I hope you all like my book, PLEASE comment and tell me what you thought. As for canons, something you might want to know, I will NOT be making any reference to any canon events or aspects other than those of the original FoE, HOWEVER, I do plan on making GREAT efforts to avoid stepping on the 'hooves' of other stories like Project Horizons or Pink Eyes. I'll do my best not to conflict with them, so you CAN consider them canon, if you personally want to. But, I do not bind myself to that, and if the story reaches a point where I do not feel I can continue without doing my own version of something project horizons might have explained away, I make no apologies about it. I'll do my best to avoid that though.

I hope you like the story. Comment and subscribe. J)

(Editor's Note: Yep, we've joined the fad. Thought about writing my own FOE story more than once. Just never came up with a plot that felt concrete. Then that guy up there ^, went and proposed this story. Of course I was immediately intrigued, and when I found out he needed an editor I hopped aboard.

Then he went and showed me the first chapter, and dammit he got me hooked. When he sends me a rough draft to edit, I have to read the blasted thing before I can get to editing it. The story is just that good.

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