//------------------------------// // Shadows of The Past // Story: Fallout Equestria: Operation Flankorage // by Kashin //------------------------------// Fallout Equestria: Operation Flankorage Chapter Eight: Shadows of The Past “I‘m!  Not!  Letting!  Go!  I‘m!  Re!  spons!  i!  ble!”         I was back home.  Back in Shetland.  I was behind the counter of my shop, standing on the tips of my hooves to see over the top. I peered around the well stocked store.  A cherry red scooter and wagon set was displayed prominently in the window.  The oak counter top was covered in crude, crayon doodles of ponies around town, and the cash register was sitting there, undented.  My gunmetal gray blank flank was reflected on the shining front of the store’s Sparkle Cola machine.  The Fluttershy cutout stood head and shoulders over me, exuding maternal comfort throughout the room and the juggling of boxes could be heard from the back room.         The front door jingled as Bastion trotted in, looking vexed.  The orange school teacher was barely a young adult, looking rather silly in his oversized suit jacket and bow tie, with his book stack cutie mark half covered by the brown corduroy coat.  He stomped up to the counter with a huff, shaking out his normally well kept, deep red mane.         Oh boy!  I was going to make a sale like a big pony.  “Welcome to the Shetland General store,”  I greeted him squeakily with a toothy smile as I tried to scramble on top of the counter.  “How can I help you today sir?”         “Pepper!”  the orange stallion called out irritably, completely ignoring me and my well rehearsed greeting.  “Peppercorn, where have you gotten to?!”         “Hold your horses, Bastion,”  A singsong voice chuckled from the back room.  A chestnut brown mare with a long, shiny, black mane, bright green eyes and a lounge couch on her flank cantered in, floating several full cases of Sparkle Cola behind her.  “Now, what can I help you with that my little salesbuck here can‘t?”         “Mama!”  I called out, hopping down from the counter and bouncing up to her hooves.         “It’s your ‘little salesbuck’ I’m here to talk about,”  the teacher pony grumbled.  “I caught him and his little friends selling contraband behind the school.”         “Contraband?”  my mother asked, giving me a stern look and setting the boxes of soda down behind the counter.  “What was he selling?”         “Wonderbolts cards and comic books,”  the orange buck spat as if the collectibles were profanities.         “We bring the ponies what they want,”  I replied, closing my eyes and putting my hoof over my heart, in an attempt to seem self-righteous.         “So that’s why you’ve been spending all your allowance on things you already have,”  Pepper said with a smirk.  She turned back to Bastion.  “Now, why are these little collectibles contraband?  Back when I was a filly nopony would be caught dead at school without a copy of Mare Do Well or Wonder Stallion in their saddlebags.”         “Primrose says it’s because Mr. Bastion has a really big stick up his butt,”  I chimed in helpfully.         “Ocher,”  Mother scolded.  “That was very rude.”         “Quite,“  the educator scoffed, glaring at me.  “They are banned because they cause distractions and interfere with my lessons.”         “And you knew about this, young colt?”  the chestnut mare asked me with a sidelong glance.         “No, no, no, no,”  I replied, waving my hoof dismissively.  “I had no ide-”  My mother’s bemused glance turned into a withering glare.  “Er, I mean yes mom, sorry mom,”  I quickly corrected myself.         “Now you are going to stop your little side business,”  mother instructed sternly, trotting back to the soda boxes and floating them into the vending machine.         “But moooom!“  I whined, pointing to the store window.  “We almost made enough for the scooter and Primrose’s dad said we could ride down the hill behind his vinyard.”         “If you want the scooter I’ll set up a stall for you in the market next weekend and you can earn it then,”  she said, magically tussling my mane and pointed to the orange stallion.  “Now apologize to Mr. Bastion and no more of your little comic book cartel.”         I hung my head and nickered.  “Sorry Mr. Bastion,”  I mumbled bitterly to the floorboards.  “I won’t do it again.”         “All right,”  Pepper said to me with a nod, then turned to the orange buck with a serene smile.  “Is that satisfactory Bastion?”         “It will do for now,”  the educator pony snorted and pointed a hoof at me.  “But don’t let me catch you doing anything like this again.  Do I make myself clear, young colt?”         “Yes sir!”  I replied, screwing up my eyes and bringing my hoof up in a mock salute.  “Don’t let you catch me.  Got it.”         “What?!”  the teacher snapped, turning a darker shade of orange.         My mother buried her face in her fetlock, giggling inanely.  “Primrose is right,”  she eked out between chuckles.  “You really do have a stick up your butt.”         “E-e-excuse me Mrs. Bullion!”  the orange buck stammered irately.  “But that was highly inappropriate!”         “Oh, lighten up,”  the chestnut mare instructed, waving her hoof.  “If you’re going to work with foals you need to get a sense of humor Basti.”         “But, but, but,”  the teacher fumbled.  “They are just so uncouth.”         “They’re kids,”  Mother replied, nuzzling behind my ear.  “By definition they’re uncouth.  I need to ask, if you have such a problem with disorder why did you choose to become a teacher?”         “Because I am one of the few ponies who can,”  the educator pony replied.  “I know the subject matter, I’m not much of a craftsbuck and I want to do it.”  He sighed and shook his head.  “I just want to make them into good ponies.  My predecessor just did what she had to, but there was no initiative, no real goal.”         “That’s a noble goal,”  my mother said sweetly, trotting over to the orange stallion.  “It really is.  But you just need to give in every once in a while.  Relax and let your students have some fun.  I promise it will help your students focus and maybe actually want to go to your classes.”  She lead the teacher pony back over to me.  “Maybe we could come up with some sort of compromise?  Like using the comics for a writing assignment or something.”         “Oh!  Oh!”  I shouted, jumping up and down.  “I know!  Sword Mares!”         “Sword Mares?”  the teacher asked, bemused and a little concerned.  “That doesn’t sound like something for your age group young colt.”         “Were you ever a foal?”  Pepper asked, looking half way between amused and concerned by his ignorance.         “The last issue, ‘The Revenge of Discord’, was a cliff hanger!”  I continued excitedly, completely ignoring the confused buck.  “We can have the class write and draw the next issue!  Who knows, somepony may even get a writing or drawing cutie mark and we can get new entertainment all the time!”  I smirked and tilted my head.  “Of course you would need somepony to help distribute them to everypony else, right?”         “Hmmm, a creative writing exercise,”  Bastion mused to himself more than anypony else.  “I could do a lesson on narrative structure coupled with a lesson in equestrian art history and composition.”         “Of course you would need somepony to help distribute them to everypony else, right?”  I repeated more insistently.  “Because I already know somepony who can do that for you, cheap.  Hint, hint.”         “That could actually work,”  the orange pony continued, still ignoring me and rubbing his chin.  “Yes, yes, that will do quite nicely.”  He trotted over to my mother.  “Pepper, I will need all the art supplies you have in stock: crayons, pens, colored pencils, charcoal, paper, the whole nine yards.  I will also require a full set of these a Sword Mares comics so I can have a frame of reference.”         “How lovely,”  Mother replied, turning and trotting back into the store room.  “I’ll get those art and crafts materials for you.  Though I’m afraid Ocher has cornered the market on comics at the moment so you will need to talk to him about Sword Mares or wait for the mayor’s next trip to the wastes and hope for the best.”  A huge grin spread across my faces as Peppercorn vanished into the back. “Oh, and Basti, did you hear?”  she called from the other room.  “It looks like Plum Nectar’s new foal will actually carry to term.  Won‘t that be wonderful?  A new student for you to mold in your own image of obsessive compulsiveness.”         “I look forward to it,”  Bastion replied, almost playfully.  “We need more compulsive ponies in this town.”  He turned back to me with a stern look.  “Now, about your comic books.  How much for a set?”         “Oh, I don’t know,”  I replied, casually examining my fore hoof.  “A whole set isn’t easy to come by you know.  I’m thinking four hundred bits, and trust me, that’s a bargain.”         “Uh huh,”  the school teacher replied, obviously unamused.  “I think not.  How about this for a counter offer; you give me use of your set for class use and I don’t give you two months of detention for selling prohibited materials in my school.  I will also let you sell what we make, but only if everypony in class gets one for free.”         “Oh, you’re good,”  I said, doing the math in my head.  Ten other foals in class, about half a bit to make each comic, sell them for one bit each.  That would be five bits of expense on the class, but I could make a good deal more with some of the older ponies.  “You’ve got yourself a deal,”  I held out my hoof.  “Under one condition; I still get to sell the comics at school.”         “Deal,”  Bastion reached down and shook my tiny hoof gently.  “You can sell your books after class.”         There was a terrible, high pitched scream from the back room followed by a cacophonous crash and sickening series of crunches.         “…M-mama?” <_=======ooO Ooo=======_>         “Mama?”  I called out again weakly as another beat of my failing heart sent a fresh wave of agony through my rapidly numbing body.  The cold wind whipped cruelly against my numerous wounds, but I was so far gone that I almost didn’t care.         I forced my eye back open.  I had to know if somepony would be there when I finally succumbed to my injuries.  The swirling horde of prismatic scavengers were dispersing into the woods, leaving all the other corpses striped down to bones.  “Don’t find me appetizing huh?”  I spat spitefully at the retreating insects, coughing up a fresh mouthful of blood.  “You couldn’t eat me while I was out could you?  Couldn’t be that kind?”         I heard something from behind my head that I couldn’t discern, it almost sounded like talking.  A moment later my left foreleg flopped to my side, the razor wire ripping huge gouges down the length of my limb as it fell.  I couldn’t even muster the strength to turn my head.  The noise started up again, its meaning still just out of reach.         My other arm came lose and I practically peeled off the sign post. I plummeted head first towards the near black asphalt.  There was a red and silver blob directly below me on the rapidly approaching highway.  Whatever it was I doubted it was very soft.         *Thud!*         Everything went black again. <_=======ooO Ooo=======_>         I was slowly walking down the snow coated, cobblestone streets of Shetland again.  My eyes were puffy and sore, I had obviously been crying profusely.  I could hear the low cries of a pipe organ fading in the distance as the sun sunk low on the horizon ahead of me.  A pink filly with a deep blue mane was pressed against my body on my left and a tawny colt with dark grey mane and a bridge on his flank was nuzzling my neck to my right.         “It wasn’t your fault Ocher,”  Primrose said softly.         “But it was still my idea,”  I moaned, staring forlornly at my hooves.  I was wearing a simple, jet black dress jacket. Primrose and Keystone were similarly dressed in a black lace dress and a black vest respectively.  “My petty little scheme got mama killed.”         “It was an accident,”  Keystone insisted, pulling his head out of my mane.  “It was nopony’s fault.  She could have just as easily been taking down some special stationary for me when that shelf fell.”  Deep down I knew he was right, but I still couldn’t shake the terrible sense of crushing guilt.         Before I knew it I bumped my hoof against the shop’s stoop.  I floated the brass key to the Shetland General Store out of my suit pocket and stared at it morosely.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”  the pink filly asked nervously.  “You can stay at the vineyard for a few days if you want to.”         “No,”  I replied, still sniffling as I inserting my key into the lock.  “This is my home…  But I wouldn’t mind if you two could stay with me for a while.  I don’t want to be alone.”         “Sure we will,”  the royal blue maned filly said, putting her front leg over my shoulders.  “I can stay as long as you want me to.  My family won’t need me back home for a few days and even then, only till sunset.”         “I’m sorry, but I can only stay for a little bit,”  Keystone apologized.  “The mayor is taking me out on my first scavenging trip outside the valley and I need time to prepare.”         “I understand,”  I replied, entering the shop.  “Your duties come first.”         “The burden of a cutie mark,”  the tawny buck said with a shrug.         I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of that statement.  Everypony ached for their cutie mark, but all the colts and fillies soon began to lament the amount of responsibility that came with it.  As the first in our little group to receive a mark, Keystone had been spending less and less time with us, but he always seemed to make the best of the time he had to give.         The three of us just sat in my room and enjoyed each other’s company for what must have been hours.  The first rays of dawn seeping under my shutters finally ended our conversation as Keystone frantically gathered up his things and attempted to make himself presentable for his boss.  Primrose yawned with a squeak and uncurled from next to me on my bed, woken up by the normally quiet colt’s worried ramblings and hysterical search for his scattered belongings.         “Bye Key,”  the pink filly said sleepily, absentmindedly waving her hoof.  “Have a nice trip and bring us back something nice.”         “Right, will do,”  the tawny buck replied, stuffing various scraps of paper in his vest.  “So do you want a comic, a Shadow Bolt action figure, a few packs of cards or what?”         “I want a dress,”  Primrose groaned, stretching herself out and rolling from side to side.  “Bring me something pretty to wear.”         “A dress?!”  both Keystone and I asked simultaneously, shocked that the little farmer pony actually wanted something fancy.         “What?,”  she asked irritably, sitting up and planting her hooves on her hips indignantly.  “A girl can’t want to look pretty every once and a while?”         “I suppose,”  the orange-brown colt replied slowly.  “So… a dress.  Okay, I can do that.  But why?”         “Aren’t you running late?”  the farmer filly inquired crossly, ignoring the question.         “Right!”  Keystone shouted, resuming his mad search.  “I’ll see you two in a few days, bye.”  With that he shoved the last of his crumpled notes into his collar and rushed down the stairs.         “So, what are we going to do today?”  the vintner filly asked, wriggling out of her wrinkled funeral dress and dumping it unceremoniously at the foot of my bed.  “We could go play with the new puppies at Robbindown’s farm, we could go steal some grapes from the vineyard.  Oh!  Or we could watch a movie at the town hall.  I think they‘re showing a Hearths Warming movie today.”  She frowned at my obvious disinterest in her ideas.         We sat there silently for several minutes.  Primrose tapped her hooves together in contemplation and chewed her lip.  “Ah ha!”  she exclaimed, hopping off my bed and trotting cheerily to my closet.  “If you want to stay in I could use a job.”  She rustled around my wardrobe for a little while before slipping on one of my employee aprons.  “I could always work here as your salesfilly for a little while.”  the pink pony suggested with a hopeful smile.         “I would like that,”  I replied with a weak smile, putting on my own uniform.  “It might help things feel more normal around here.”         “I’ll stay as long as you need me,”  she said softly, nuzzling under my chin.  “Besides, dad will be thrilled that I got a job before I even earned my cutie mark.”         I lead her down stairs and walked her through how to open shop, taking care to avoid the store room.  Everypony would need to make do with what I had out as I had no intention of restocking anytime soon.         As we were finishing up I heard the jingle of the front door.  It was a blue colt with a sea green mane and a white bunny on his flank.  He was a few years my senior.  “Good morning everypony!”  the rabbit keeper pony announced himself theatrically.  “I come seeking rabbit food!”         “Morning Bluebolt,”  I grumbled from behind the counter.  Primrose and Keystone had done wonders for my mood, but I was still in no mood for any of Blue’s antics.  “It’s in aisle two like it last week and every week for the past two hundred years.”         “Well you know its good to check with the new management and all,”  the blue adolescent pony quipped insensitively as he cantered over to the bunny chow.  “Never know if they might move things around.”         “Blue, stop it,”  Primrose cautioned with a low growl.  “That’s not okay.”         “Hey Ocher, congratulations on the promotion,”  the azure colt said with a chortle, ignoring Primrose‘s warning.  “You are one lucky colt.  You have your own place and nopony to tell you what to do.  I mean seriously I en-”         The world turned blood red and the horn on my forehead flared to life.  Before I knew it the stainless steel cash register flew off the counter and slammed into Bluebolt’s muzzle, cutting his tasteless remark short and sending him sprawling on the floor.         I stood over the blue colt, floating the newly dented slab of metal over his head.  He was curled into a tight little ball, cradling his shattered nose in his front hooves.  I screamed at him primally, too angry to even form coherent speech.  I brought the register up again for another blow to the prone colt’s head.  The desire to make the source of my anger cease to exist was the only thing running through my mind.  I could almost see the prone colt warp into a blue version of myself.         “Ocher, stop!”  Primrose cried, magically yanking the register from my telekinetic grip and tossing it to the floor.  She wrapped her front hooves around me and pulled me to the floor.  “Don’t do this!  Don’t hurt other ponies!”         “I… I…”  I sputtered with rage while I flailed against the pink filly’s embrace.  “I need to make him pay!  I need to make that thoughtless, irresponsible bastard pay!  He killed mama!  His stupid scheme killed mama!”         “Stop it!”  she yelled, pressing my face into her chest and burying her face in my mane.  “It wasn’t your fault!  You are a good pony, and good ponies don’t hurt ponies!”         “I…  I…  I don’t hurt ponies,”  I broke down and sobbed like a newborn foal into her chest.  My face matted to her chest fur with a mixture of cold sweat and tears.  “I don’t hurt ponies.  I don’t hurt ponies.” <_=======ooO Ooo=======_>         What did that say about me, that one of my final thoughts was why I beat a colt half to death with a large chunk of metal?  Huh.  It just hit me; Keystone knew.  He knew Shetland was a lie and kept acting like he was my friend.  I had to remember to buck that deceitful little bastard when I ran into him in whatever afterlife was waiting for us.         I couldn’t really feel much of anything anymore, my whole body just throbbed with each beat of my heart; it was practically soothing after my last few agonizing experiences with consciousness.         I could hear the same garbled facsimile of speech buzzing around me.  Out of some morbid curiosity to learn my final resting place I strained my eye to open a sliver.         I was on my back in some sort of… room… thing.  Damn blood loss!  Everything beyond a hoof’s reach was a muddy brown blur.  All I could really discern was that I was on a table, the room was brown and it had very bright lights.         A big, red stallion with a shiny, metal dome on his head was standing over me with scores of small, spindly, mechanical arms snaking out of his harness and digging around in my open chest cavity.  Huh, so that’s what my heart looked like.  My massive physical injuries seemed almost funny now that I couldn’t feel them.         Another pony loomed over me, this one was a blue mare with a white mane.  She started making more bits of pseudo talking noises, but somehow seeing her lips move allowed me to piece together what the near gibberish meant.  “…heart is beating too fast,”  the blue pony said nervously to the red one routing around in my insides.  “Do something!”         “He was infected by the ferals,”  the red buck… no, I knew this one, BARON replied without looking up from his gruesome work.  “His heart beat is supposed to be high…  But not this high.  He’s going tachy!”         The hunter stallion brought his sparking hoof weapons up to either side of my heart.         “No,”  I moaned weakly, as I lifted my shredded front legs to try and fend off the sparking gauntlets.  “Those hurt.”         “Damn it all!”  the harnessed pony yelled, pulling what looked like a glowing blue billiard ball out of some compartment on his mechanical spine with one of the blood stained appendages and handing it to the blue p… no, Maple.  “I can’t have him flailing around while I operate.  Press this to what’s left of his horn.”         “Are you sure?”  the security pony asked, taking the orb with her fetlock.  “From what Echo said doesn’t he need magic to use these?”         “Just press it to his damned stump,”  BARON insisted harshly, batting my hooves away effortlessly.  “He’s pouring enough magic out of that wound to activate every orb I have on me and then some.”         The blue mare just nodded and pressed the sphere to my shattered horn just as BARON sent an arc of arcane lighting through my heart. <_=======ooO Ooo=======_>         ARGH!  I was getting sick of being thrown around to some of the less pleasant moments in my life only to wake up again more and more dead.  What nasty memory was I going to pop into next?  A clip show of all my trips to the dentist?         Hold on… this didn’t feel familiar.  I was still a buck, but I couldn’t feel my horn, or even the jagged stump of one…  I was in one of those memory orb things again, as an earth pony stallion this time; at least this one was closer to my comfort zone than the buffalo heifer from last time.         Eh, lets figure out where I was thrown this time.  I was in a large, marble ball room that was reminiscent of amphitheater from Little Strongheart’s ceremony.  Four royal blue, wooden doors were spread evenly around the hall engraved with stylized hearts wrapped in thin, flowing vines.  Stained glass windows were spread around the entire chamber, depicting every form of natural phenomenon from raging seas to shining stars and planets.  The floor was checkered with massive white and pink stone tiles with swirling veins of rich red flowing through like a drop of ink in water.  Each window and door was flanked by a pair of thick stone pillars inlayed with geometric patterns of silver filigree, making them look like unbelievably large, opaque gemstones.  An enormous series of thick, gold rings floated in and out of each other high above the floor, illuminating the room with dozens of magically shining crystals that made the light seem to dance off the innumerable reflective surfaces.         Well over a hundred ponies were milling about the hall in regal attire.  Most of them had a trio of diamonds embroidered on the collar.  If I recalled correctly it was the label of a famous pre-war fashion line.  A posh, four pony classical band was playing a soothing tune on a raised dais opposite a vacant stage with a fancy podium and a hanging banner reading ’Nightlight Society, Unicornia Charity Auction‘.         “We should probably go find Rarity since she was so kind to give us these tickets,”  a familiar soft voice came from next to my host.  “That is, if you don’t mind.”         My host turned to the source of the voice, a butter yellow, pegasus mare on his foreleg.  The pony’s long, bright pink mane was wrapped into a tight bun on top of her head.  She was wearing a flowing, lavender gown made from layers and layers of overlapping, sheer fabric arranged like the tightly wrapped petals of a giant rose bud.  Fluttershy seemed to be a bit older than her modeling days, but younger than she was at Little Strongheart’s award ceremony.  If I had to hazard a guess I would say it was about five years before the war.         “Not at all ma‘am,”  my host said evenly with a hint of tension in his voice, causing the mare to turn nearly scarlet.  “I’m your escort for this event.  Though I still haven’t quite figured out why you wanted me to join you instead of one of those high-class ponies the princess was kind enough to introduce you to.”         “Stadle,”  the blushing mare replied meekly.  “I asked you not to call me that anymore.”         “But it is the proper form of address for one’s teacher.”  my host argued calmly, bowing his head slightly, causing a lock of dark green mane to fall across his face.         “But I haven’t been your teacher in years,”  the former model protested.         “You will be my teacher until I have nothing left to learn from you, ma’am,”  Stadle insisted with a weak smile.  Wow that was sappy.  “But anyway, why me?  I‘m hardly a prestigious pony.”         “Nonsense,”  the yellow pegasus scolded suddenly.  I was rather taken aback by her sudden tone shift.  “You’re a doctor, for Luna’s sake.  If that’s not prestigious I just don’t know what is… except maybe a designer or a conjurer or a princess…”  The mare paused for a moment before letting out an adorable squeak and dropping her head  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I’ll stop now.”         “Come on ma’am,”  my host said chirpily, draping his front leg over Fluttershy’s drooping shoulders.  I caught sight of a bit of his coffee coat between his hoof and his black tuxedo sleeve.  “Let’s go find Rarity.  I’m sure she’s dying to talk with you or at the very least dying to be saved from the sycophants that tend to frequent these occasions.”         With a nod the pink maned pegasus followed my host into the bulk of the crowd.  The nearly solid mass of ponies, mostly unicorns, parted shockingly easily with a few ‘excuse me’s and ‘pardon’s.  In a matter of seconds we had made it to the heart of the gathering.  My host seemed to be about my height, slightly taller than an average stallion, but he was easily dwarfed by the scrapper sized, unicorn stallion that stood at the center of the crowd.  He was stark white with a blue mane that was going grey around the temples, dressed in an incredibly well tailored suit with a gold chained monocle sticking out of the breast pocket.  A white unicorn mare in a sleek gown that was practically scaled in thin, wedge shaped moonstones was having an involved conversation with the massive buck about Equestran politics.  The two where so close in pallet that I had to assume they were related.         “Ah, Miss Rarity,”  the towering unicorn said in a charming, high class accent, putting on his monocle and examining us more closely.  “It appears the rest of your guests have arrived and I would hate to make you a poor hostess.  Shall we table this discussion for another time?”         “Yes.  Thank you Fancy Pants,”  the glamorous, purple maned mare replied with a polite nod.  “Why don’t you attend the unveiling of my spring line next week and we can continue our talk then?”         “It would be a pleasure my dear,”  the noble buck said with a slight bow before trotting off to talk with another mob of high society ponies.         “Fluttershy darling,”  Rarity said, embracing the yellow pegasus affectionately, but being compulsively careful not to wrinkle their gowns.  “I’m so glad you could make it.”  She turned to my host and nodded.  “And you too, Stadle dear.  Don‘t take this the wrong way, but would you mind terribly going to get us some refreshments?  I would like to speak with Fluttershy in private for little while.”         “Sure,”  Stadle replied with only a hint of bitterness in his voice.  “I’ll see if somepony interesting is milling around the punch bowl.  I can also make myself scarce later this evening if you two want to have a girls’ night after the auction.”         “Why thank you,”  the gem swathed mare replied brightly.  “That sounds absolutely marvelous.  What do you say, Fluttershy?  I hear there is a new zebra bath house in the city and judging by some of the lotions and soaps Zecora has made for me it must be truly luxurious.”         “Oh, that sounds lovely.  I would love to,”  Fluttershy said perking up and flapping her wings in excitement.  “Um, that is if you don’t mind, Stadle,”  she continued, noticing my host again and shrinking back.  “Please don’t be mad at me.”         “Nonsense, ma’am,”  Stadle replied, placing a hoof reassuringly on the buttery pony’s shoulder.  “I suggested it.  Besides, nopony can stay mad at you.  Trust me, I tried last time you made me eat brussel sprouts.  I‘ll see you for dinner in the gardens then.  You are of course also invited Miss Rarity.”         My host left the two mares with a deep bow and made his way through the throng of pompous ponies.  He made less shows of courtesy on his way to the buffet, opting instead to just shoulder his way through.         The buffet table held a truly impressive spread.  Little flowers made from radishes, carrots and parsnips were scattered between dozens of dishes that I couldn’t even identify: rainbow hued spreads, slices of exotic fruits and bite sized sandwiches with frilly garnishes.  A crystal bowl sat at the base of a fountain, bubbling over with a pink, fruity smelling beverage with just a hint of alcohol twang.  I may not have been able to feel my own stomach, but the intoxicating aroma of so many extravagant dishes made me hideously depressed that my last meal had been demon blood and healing potions.         “Stadle!”  a squeaky voice yelled from behind the brown buck I was inhabiting a moment before a pink blur slammed into him and knocked him off his hooves.         My host found himself sprawled on his back with face enveloped in a mass of fluffy, pink hair that smelled like candy.  The coral mass let out a high pitched giggle and sat up on his chest.  It was a light pink mare in a red and white dress that made her look like a candy cane dipped in cotton candy and bubble gum.  There was something very familiar about this pony, but I couldn’t quite put my hoof on it.         “It is so good to see you again!”  the candy mare blurted out, speaking a mile a minute.  “It has been so long, I didn’t expect to see you here!  I know Rarity said you would be here, but you haven’t shown up to the last four parties we sent you invitations for and I was getting worried that maybe you didn’t like us anymore!  But now you’re here and I’m just so excited!  Did you see the floating chandelier?!”  Ow, ow, ow.  Last time I had checked ponies needed to breathe in order to speak.         “It’s good to see you too, Pinkie,”  Stadle replied with a half grin.  Pinkie, Pinkie…  Pinkie Pie, leader of the Ministry Of Morale, duh.  I only had a plastic version of her head coating me in illusionary confetti every morning since I was a foal.  It was odd, I was actually a little disappointed that Icy hadn’t jumped on me for that one.  I probably wasn’t doing wonders for my mental stability to worry about my crazy, but at this point it didn’t really matter that much, I just wanted somepony to talk to.  Where had he gone?         “I’m sorry I couldn’t attend any celebrations,”  my host continued evenly, dropping his gaze slightly.  “My studies here in Canterlot kept me occupied.  And yes, I did see the chandelier.  I see how they did it, I just don’t understand why.”         “Anyway,”  the pink pony said, hopping off Stadle and literally bouncing up and down.  “This party is sooooo dull.  Wanna dance?”         “Not right now,”  the coffee buck replied, rolling back to his hooves and shaking himself off.         “Awwww,”  the candy pony moaned, coming to a stop and drooping her head.  “Why not?  You used to like dancing.”         “I still do,”  my host reassured the dejected mare, and pointed to the stage.  A light brown unicorn stallion with a tiny pair of glasses perched on his snout and floating a gavel had stood behind the podium.  “It looks like the auction will be starting soon.”         “You’re right!”  Pinkie practically yelled, perking up instantly.  “I heard they found lots of rare books!  With Twilight’s birthday coming up I need to buy lots of books!”         Stadle rolled his eyes and chuckled.         “Fillies and gentlecolts!”  the auctioneer pony announced in a magically augmented voice.  “The Nightlight Society would like to present The Wonders Of Lost Unacornia!  All proceeds from tonight’s auction go to the Little Horn School For Gifted Unicorns and future archaeological expeditions to our ancestral homeland!”         A silk swathed cart was rolled onto the stage baring a thick stack of polished, granite slabs each about the size of a pony’s head, all bound together with three rings of bronze.         “Our first artifact for tonight is a ancient spell book, dating back to the Paleopony Period!”  the brown unicorn continued, gesturing to the stack of stones.  The pink pony next to my host resumed her ecstatic bouncing.  “This tome was unearthed from the depths of the royal library and contains the origins of some of our most widely used spells!”  With every word, Pinkie Pie got more and more ecstatic.  I was half worried that she might explode.         “We shall start the bidding at fifty thousand bits!”         The party pony’s eyes went wide and I could have sworn that she froze in mid air for a second before slowly drooping back to the ground like an under inflated balloon.         The rest of the evening went about as well for gift searching.  Everything was horrendously expensive and most pieces were sold to museums and noble’s private collections.  As the hours drew on Pinkie eventually managed to get her hooves on an annotated copy of an old beginner’s book belonging to some pony named Clover by convincing my host to split the costs between them.  Fluttershy seemed to do far better, purchasing several old portraits of unicorn royalty and a stack of conceptual sketches from the royal tailor.         “Our final lot for the evening are artifacts unearthed from the tomb of the last unicorn king himself!”  the auctioneer announced with great reverence despite his unnaturally amplified voice.  “Most records of this pony were lost during the Age Of Discord, but our team at The Nightlight Society has uncovered two priceless relics from this arcane ruler!  First we have a hoof drawn portrait of the King Pyrite!”         A canvas, easily four times the height of a grown pony, framed in mahogany with intricate gold leaf, was wheeled in.  It portrayed an absolutely stunning, royal purple, unicorn stallion in a scarlet velvet cape with a flowing, raven black mane with a chain swathed book on his flank.  He was inequinly beautiful, everypony in the room, mare and stallion alike, stared at the painting in enraptured awe.         “And for the second item in this lot!”  the auctioneer’s voice broke us out of our collective trance.  “Is an item forged by King Pyrite himself!  One of the last spell-forged weapons ever crafted by pony hooves!  A grim reminder of a darker time to be sure, but still an important chapter in our collective history!”  An ebony box, nearly thirteen hooves long, was placed at the base of the king’s portrait.  “This was guarded by dozens of seals and took our best mages days to break the wards that had survived the ages!  The name of this blade has been painstakingly translated from the old equestrian runes!  I am proud to present you with…”         The case was magically flipped open, revealing an intricate glaive made out of a solid piece of black steel, studded with perfectly spherical jet.  “The Black Blade of Disaster!” The horror’s eyes were hollow pits filled with dark purple flames and an intricate glaive that seemed to be the source of the singing was floating behind him, wrapped in an identical, burning glow... “AAAAAAAGGH!”  I shrieked as the unnaturally burning blade came down on my left eye.  All I could see were violet flames enveloping me in nauseating agony. Celestia protect me.  It was the same weapon.  The same blade that crippled me!  And I had a chilling feeling that it knew that I, the real me, was there in the memory, and it was watching me.         No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than the entire left side of my face was enveloped in purple flames.  I felt my flesh crack and peel, but my host didn’t seem to notice the sizzling pain.  I had to just stand there powerlessly, feeling all of the flesh agonizingly burn off half my face as Stadle listened to the auctioneer pony ramble on and on about the pointless minutia surrounding the weapon‘s discovery.         I saw the blade itself burst into flames and float out of its case, consuming everything else in violet fire through my burning left eye, while my right still saw the packed ballroom.  “You belong to me,”  An unearthly choir of echoing voices sang out in time with the flickering inferno.  “You and all ponies are mine by right.”         As the pyre wrapped around me the burning memory fell away, leaving me floating alone in the void. <_=======ooO Ooo=======_>         “Ugh,”  I groaned uncomfortably as I flowed back into my own crippled body.  The ever present agony that had welcomed me the last few times I had woken up seemed to only be concentrated around my actual injuries; still quite painful, but far from the crippling pain I felt while I was strung up.  The left side of my face felt heavy, itched terribly and still burned from my partial immolation in Stadle’s memory.  Fucking hell, wasteland, make up your damn mind already!  Are you going to kill me or not?!         I stretched out my aching joints.  I could move?  Ha!  I could move!  I’m not dead you creepy, undead, zebra bastard, take that!         I eased my eyes open.  Hold on, eyes?  I had two again?  Ocher two, zebra monster zero.  Everything out of my left side was grainy with a red tint.  The contrast between both my fields of vision made me nauseous.  I snapped my eyes shut, rolled on my side and emptied whatever was left in my stomach all over whatever I was lying on.  I groaned in disgust and discomfort as the bile soaked into my fluffy coat.         I opened my right eye again.  I was lying on a blood stained, gray plastic card table in a boring, brown room lit by a bright white pot light in the ceiling.  The walls were lined with simple shelves filled with bits of scrap metal, a toaster and the disassembled remains of a black trimmed power helmet.  A pair of rubber tubes snaked out of my front legs and into two bags suspended above my head, one containing a pale yellow fluid and the other was filled with blood.  My chest fur was notably shorter in an almost perfect square over my sternum, framing an H shaped patch of raw skin.  An odd, new cable protruded from my PipBuck and wrapped all the way up my leg.         I tried to sit up, but wound up rolling off the table with a painful thud, knocking over a tray of small, blood coated, metal tools on my way down.  The amber IV’s snapped off in my arm as I hit the floor.         Shaking my head to clear my mind, I unsteadily rose to my hooves.  I mindlessly used my magic to pull the broken needle from my vein.  My magic worked again!  Yes!  It still felt like I had a cork screw drilling between my eyes, but I could actually cast spells.  If my horn worked again then maybe…  I arced my head to look at my right flank.  My gold coin cutie mark was there on my rump, slightly duller that I remembered and ringed with a gruesome looking scar, but it was there, I was me again.         “Yes!”  I shouted hoarsely, jumping in the air with excitement without thinking only to have my legs crumple under me as I came back down.         “Note to self,”  I moaned, struggling back to my hooves again.  “Don’t jump yet.”  I spotted a simple door in the corner and hobbled over to it, taking care to avoid the sharp implements I had scattered across the floor.         I winced from the strain of using my magic, but managed to pop the door open.  It lead to a dimly lit, dark wood hall dotted with glass covered movie posters.  Across the hall were a trio of bathrooms (Mares, stallions and unisex griffins) between two sets of double doors labeled ‘Screen 1’ and ‘Screen 2’.         My stomach growled at me, demanding to be fed.  There were far to many things vying for my attention for me to think clearly.  I sighed and stumbled over to the stallion’s room.  One thing at a time; clean the taste of vomit from my mouth first, then figure out where I was and maybe scrounge up a snack.         I popped the door open with my hoof this time and nearly fell flat on my face.  The restroom was floored in filthy, blue and white linoleum with eight stalls lining one wall opposite a row of mostly broken sinks under a long wall mirror.         Watching my hooves in an attempt to maintain my balance I slowly made my way to the nearest intact sink and placed both my front hooves on the rim.  Confident I wasn’t going to loose my hoofing or wrench the sink out of the wall I looked up at the mirror.         “AAAGH!”  I screamed, falling back onto my scarred rump.  It looked like a toaster had been melted to the left side of my face!  The mismatched piece of metal ran over my wrecked eye, wrapped under my ear and extended nearly down to my jaw.  The cable that was coiled around my leg extended up around my neck and plugged into the back of the mishmashed apparatus.         I tried reopening my right eye and a red lit lens irissed open on the device.  This thing was my eye?!  No, no.  This couldn’t be real, I just had gotten something stuck to my face when I fell.  I pawed at the device with my front hooves, but it held fast, pulling painfully at my face as I applied more force.  It was real.  What had happened to me?!         Breathing heavily, I pulled myself back up and jumped back up on the sink.  My horn had been restored but looked smooth and raw.  I magically turned the tap and splashed water on my face.         My PipBuck began clicking and a large, red ‘+2/sec’ appeared on my E.F.S.  Wonderful, that was just what I needed.  My PipBuck was doing something new.  That usually meant I found an exciting, new way for the wasteland to kill me.  The warning only persisted for a few moments, but I had the distinct impression that drinking this water was far from healthy.         I trudged wearily from the restroom in a dull haze.  There was something about my synthetic replacement that made my loss sink in.  What had happened was real, my eye had been cut out, my body was nearly destroyed and I wasn’t going to wake up in my bed to find that the last few days had been a bad dream.         “Just keep moving Ocher,”  I told myself.  “Just keep moving.  If you stop you aren’t going to be able to start again and ponies are counting on you.”         Large, swinging doors were at each end of the hall under the word ‘Exit’ painted in peeling, red letters.  I cautiously made my way to the closer of the two, but stopped when I heard noises coming from ‘Screen 1’.         I eased open the double doors with my muzzle and ventured inside the dark chamber beyond.  It was a small movie theater with enough simple, wooden benches to accommodate about thirty ponies comfortably.  The screen was showing sweeping shots of a small town accompanied by an almost mournful orchestral score.  The seats were empty save for a single armored stallion lying next the the projector in the back row.         “It’s about time you woke up,”  BARON groused, lifting his head and stopping the projector with one of his harness’ serpentine arms.  “The movie’s almost over.”         “B-BARON?”  I asked, still not in full control of my mental facilities as I made my way up to him.  “What happened?  Where are we?”         “Do you want the long version or the short one?”  the red buck replied.         “Lets just do this a piece at a time,”  I said, sitting down next to the hunter pony and rubbing my right temple.  “Start from the beginning.  Why did you lock me in a safe and how did it wind up back in the accursed zebra tunnels?”         “This bastard here,”  the armored stallion said kicking himself in the side.  “Wired the room to explode if he didn’t win.  I put you in the vault for safe keeping, but unfortunately the foundation wasn’t as durable as I had hoped and you fell into the catacombs.”         “Oh, thank you then…  Hold on a second,”  I replied, holding out a hoof.  “if the blast was strong enough to destroy the foundation how did you survive?”         The ancient cyberpony stared at me evenly.  “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m very hard to kill,”  BARON said, making it very clear that I was not pursue the topic any further.  “Now, I‘m sure you would like learn what happened after we cut you down from your perch right?”         “What about that c…”  I began to inquire about the cutie mark that had formed on his face right before the explosion, but thought better of it when BARON shot me an icy glare.  “I mean how did you find me?”         “You travel with good ponies,”  the armored buck said almost forlornly.  “The pegasus gave me your PipBuck’s tag and we tracked you down through the tunnels.  It was however rather difficult to convince them of who I was and that I hadn’t just killed you.  I eventually had to show them what I really am to get them to listen to me long enough to explain myself.  That security pony of yours bucks like a train and the little blue one nearly gelded me with a quill.”         I couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy about that.  My new friends were willing to challenge a legendary mass murderer for my sake.  That and the mental image of the two little, blue mares attacking the massive, armored buck with nothing more than their bare hooves and a sharpened feather.         “Any way,”  the hunter pony continued.  “When we found you, you were nearly dead.  So the Enclave mare cut you down and we brought you here so I could provide you with medical treatment.”         “You fixed me?”  I asked, cocking my head.  I remembered him standing over me and shocking my heart but my memories were fuzzy and it was hard to sort out what was real and what I had imagined…  If he fixed me then he was responsible for the toaster fused to my skull!  “You fixed my cutie mark, legs and horn, why did you put this thing on my face instead of healing my eye?!”         “I have extensive medical training, yes,”  the parasitic machine replied with no hint of bitterness towards my disbelief or anger.  “The cold had preserved your cutie marks well enough that I was able to graft them back on with only minimal nerve damage.  Broken bones are so easy they don‘t even deserve mentioning.  And for your horn, while they are deceitful little bastards, zebras know their pharmaceuticals.  Between the elixirs you found in the apothecary’s shop and a few chemicals I synthesized I was able to restore the nerves and bone.  It will be sore for a few days, but should be able to recover full use of your magic.”         The huge pony placed his hoof on my shoulder in an oddly comforting gesture.  “I couldn’t save your eye,”  BARON continued with what sounded like genuine regret.  “That wound was inflicted by a necrotic weapon; it would never heal.  I had to completely remove the affected tissue or you would have bled to death.”  He moved his hoof to the slab of metal on my face.  “I could either permanently cap your ocular nerve or connect it to a synthetic eye and since I had the parts on hoof I decided to give you the implant and make it your choice whether to keep it or not.”         “Um, thank you,”  I replied, still trying to process everything.  “Why did you do all this for me?”         The ancient machine sighed and restarted the projector.         The orchestral score resumed its mournful score as the camera panned to a close up shot of a mare in a deep purple, masked jumpsuit with a matching cape with a ‘M’ shaped clasp and wide brimmed hat staring out over a picturesque town.  She dipped her head and wrapped the hat and mask in a field of purple magic.  The masked pony pulled off the concealing articles of clothing, revealing a stunning, grey unicorn with a tussled, blond mane.  It was the Little Muffin from Boxxie’s photos and the Equestrian Cinematographer magazine, looking more radiant than ever.  She was gazing off into the distance with a mixture of grief and determination as the screen faded out, leaving only the ‘M’ on her broach.         ‘Dinky Doo as Mare Do Well and Night Sky’  formed on the screen in a facsimile of teleportation magic as the score built to a familiar piece of fanfare.         “This is one of my favorite films,”  BARON said, pausing the movie again.  “Not for the contrived, Ministry of Image plot or the marginally impressive special effects, but for the character.  Mare Do Well exists in a real world, especially Dinky Doo’s interpretation of the role.  Too many actresses play her like Supermare in purple.”  The armored pony waved his hoof dismissively.  “That ‘friendship, harmony and the Equestrian way’ stuff is all well and good, but it doesn’t apply to reality.  Mare Do Well exists in a world of gray where the right path isn’t always a moral one.”         The hunter shifted and hopped off the bench and started to trot away.  “I aspire to follow the right path whenever I can,”  he continued, looking over his shoulder.  “But that means I must frequently be less than a paragon of equinity.”         “Um, thank you again,”  I said awkwardly, rubbing my fluffy fetlock.         “Save it.  I can’t escort you if you’re dead,”  BARON replied as he pushed the door open, his expression unreadable through his helmet’s tinted visor.  “You helped me and now I am fulfilling my end of the bargain.  Look, we’re at a rest stop about twenty miles outside Flankorage.  The rest of your comrades are resting in the motel.  I assure you they would be appreciative of your accolades.” ***        ***        ***         The motel lobby was sparsely appointed, with a slightly moldy, dark green carpet leading to a wooden counter along the far wall, between a pair of staircases.  To my left was a series of vending machines interspersed between the regular trio of bathrooms.  Scoop, Maple, Echo, Rosalyn and Flights were lying on several couches in a rest area to my right.         No sooner had I entered the room than I was tackled to the floor by a pair of blue blurs.  Scoop wrapped her front legs around my neck and buried her face under my chin while Maple flopped over my midsection.  The two former slave mares joined the pony pile and even Echo gave me a hesitant pat on the head.         “It‘s good to see you too,”  I gasped from under the pile of technicolor mares.  Despite the considerable weight on my chest I was so comfortable I could have curled up and fallen asleep right there.  Their collective smell was making my still hazy head swim and I needed to exert a considerable amount of willpower not to embarrass myself.         “Well isn’t this a cute picture,”  the hunter pony chuckled as he entered the room.         Scoop gently ran her hoof over my implant.  I was surprised how much it hurt not to be able to feel her touch my cheek.  “Why did you put this ungainly thing on him?”  the reporter pony asked accusingly, glaring up at BARON.         “I built a nearly state of the art synthetic eye with using nothing but a broken helmet, a pile of scrap metal and a toaster using no tools beyond what I could find in a janitor‘s closet,”  the hunter replied indignantly, looking down at the diminutive mare.  “Given the circumstances I think I did quite well.  If you want your colt toy to be sleeker get me some better parts and I will upgrade him.”         Did he just call me Scoop’s colt toy?!         “You will,”  she said sternly, shaking her hoof at the armored buck.         And she didn’t argue.  I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Footnote: Level Up New Perk: -- .Tough Hide (level one)- The brutal experiences of the Equestrian Wasteland have hardened you.  You gain +3 to Damage Threshold for each level of this perk you take. New Quest Perk: -- Basic Ocular Biotic- Your missing eye has been replaced by a crude synthetic.  This device is tied into your PipBuck and allows access to all of its features remotely as well as increasing your Damage Threshold by 2.  The primitive nature of this synthetic imparts a -1 penalty to your perception score and prevents you from wearing full helmets or eyewear. New Companion Perk: -- Medical Engineer- B.A.R.O.N.’s integrated systems allow for the creation of chemicals in the field.  Once per day he may produce three doses of Buck, Dash, Turbo, Thermal, Regeneration Potion, Mintalls, one Health Potion or one Hydra. This is a story based off the magnificent work of Kkat (Fallout Equestria) (Special thanks to A friendly Hobo, DiceArt, No One, Otherunicorn and tosxychor for helping me go over this and making it as good as it could be. And to all the good folks at Fallout: Equestria Side Stories Compilation) SilentBrony: typo?