Chapter 4: The Value of Friendship
"Even the weak can overcome any obstacle, my son."
"How?"
"Because even the weakest can be strong in numbers..."
I woke up staring at the blurry blue and white ceiling. My brain hurt so much I thought it would blow apart at even the slightest nudge of my head. Then the ceiling moved. That isn’t supposed to happen.
"Hey, I think he's finally waking up," a female voice said from my left. I blinked, causing my head to pulse with a sharp pain. What looked like a black pony silhouette with hair came into my vision. I couldn't tell at the moment. Everything looked like I was looking through layers of cloth. Then I realized that’s exactly what they were, bandages. I lifted my hoof toward my face but stopped abruptly as it jerked to a stop with the sound of clinking chains.
"Ah, ah, ah. Can't have you trying anything," said a deep male voice that was clearly near me, but still out of view.
“Well, this sucks,” I thought. I was chained to a bed, had no idea where I was, had a massive headache, and there were ponies that I didn’t know trying to kill me out there.
How did I get home?
The dark pony came over back into blurry view. “My name is Doctor Stein, and I suppose you want to find out why the fuck you’re still alive, right? Well, that little stunt," he reached over and tapped my forehead, causing my brain to explode, "cost you a lot more than your magic. Your face was torn to shit, and you suffered major damage to your head. Not to mention the several broken ribs, the punctured lung, and Goddesses only know what damage your brain endured. The chains were for our protection, you see? We don’t know if you’re even sane anymore. I'm going to ask you a few questions now, just to see if you’re still mostly here, alright?"
All I could do was nod. "Good, now let’s get this off ya." He reached over and started to unwrap the bandages that were still stretched around my head. “Try to fight the urge to bite me, eh? There, that better?"
My sight came back with a sharp light, but it gradually became clearer. I nodded again. “Can I get some water?" I asked. Doctor Stein turned toward somepony out of my view. It would’ve helped if I could turn my head. The leather strap around my forehead was getting itchy.
“Hey, son. Fetch some water for our guest, hm?" He turned back to me.
"Now let’s get started." He grabbed a clipboard with his magic. Now where the fuck… Oh, his hair had covered it. Damn, I’m not very observant. “What’s your name? Can you remember your name?"
"Broken Reign," I said sternly. The doctor nodded his head. “Straightforward answer, great." He checked something on his clipboard. "M’kay, what’s your occupation?" he asked. I was about to blurt out the answer, but closed my mouth tight. Rule number one: never tell who you really are unless forced to. That would never happen. Doctor Stein looked up from his list and raised a brow. “Again, I’ll ask. What's your occupation, hm? Bodyguard? Caravaneer? Courier?" I thought about it a little. "Guide," I said quickly.
What? It sounded better in my head.
After a few more questions about me, what I did for a living (during which I did my best to describe what a guide did) and so forth, he’d checked something off next to every answer. The doctor took my head restraint off and helped me sit up to get a drink. His son came over with a bottle of water the color of crap. I took a whiff from the bottle. Smelled like crap, too. I shrugged, pressed the bottle to my lips and took a swig. My foreleg started to make a little ticking noise. I looked over to the PipBuck cover on my leg and so did the little cautious doctor. “What was that?" I looked at the doctor for an explanation. "Well, your PipBuck is picking up the small traces of radiation in the water; the sound was the rad-counter telling you that you are exposed. The louder and faster the click, the more radiation you’re being exposed to. Didn't you come from a stable? You should know this shit." I shook my head. "Nah, I came from a town called New Equine across the sea a bit." I smiled at the doc.
The only response I got was a revolver in my face.
“What the fuck?!" I screamed. Why was everypony trying to kill me? I threw my hooves in the air (with little success) and stared down the barrel of the lovely .357 magnum Applebuck T90. "Say that again?" Stein growled. I put on my 'confused as hell' look and repeated my comment. The doctor floated the revolver to my right temple. “You’d best start explaining who the fuck you really are. I know for a fact that New Equine hasn’t been around since before the war. Hell, Pasterland itself was obliterated in the last battles of the war. You’ve got until the count of ten to give me some real answers. One...two..."
He wasn't going to stop.
“Five...”
If I told him, I’d probably be shot regardless of the countdown.
“Seven…”
But if I didn’t—
“Nine…”
Ah, fuck!
"Alright! I'll tell you, just don’t shoot!" I screamed. The hammer on the revolver clicked back. The pressure on my temple lightened. “Go on," Stein growled. I let out the breath I hadn't even known I was holding. “Okay, fine."
I told him everything. Yeah, it was probably stupid, but I was going to die anyway. I told him and his son the story before waking up from my 200 year old nap. I told him who I was, what I really did, and how I came to in that tunnel. Doctor Stein and his son sat there, listening intently. Once I finished I sighed and closed my eyes, waiting for the denial I was sure to get from the pair. What I got was a chuckle. “Well, I haven't heard that one before." I opened my eyes to see the good doctor smiling at me. “But if what you say is true, we’ve got a lot to discuss. Come." He stood up and unlocked the restraints on my legs. I rubbed the marks left on my forelegs and watched as the doctor picked up my stuff and threw it to me. "Get dressed. You need to go see Whipleash. I’m sure he'd like to talk to you." Stein turned to his son and nodded. The colt stood up and walked into the kitchen. I slid off of the gurney and put on the clothes the doctor gave me.
We walked out into the gloom of the day. A sound chimed from my foreleg and something danced into my vision. Location found: Charity City. It definitely didn't look like a city. More like a ghost town. A few buildings stood here and there for a good mile or two. I saw a couple of ponies darting back and forth through the one street that separated the town. I looked up toward the north and saw a plume of smoke moving toward the west. “That would be the town of Appleloosa. Wonder what's got them all riled up?" the doctor said. I nodded, not knowing what to say, and proceeded to try my luck with magic again.
While we walked down the street, the doctor told me some details of what had happened. Since I’d broken my horn once before when I was younger, simple spells like illumination and telekinesis would still be manageable. Unfortunately, more complex spells weren’t possible since I didn’t have the rest of my horn to funnel magic through. I was okay with that, though. I didn't know anything else anyway.
I stopped abruptly and looked back to the clinic."oh crap, I completely forgot about the other pony! Did he make it? Is he alright?" I asked the doctor. He looked at me in concern and shook his head.
"N-nopony else was at the cliff when we found you..." Doctor Stein replied. I looked at the ground, thinking through the scenario, maybe he did make it after all.
I picked up a pebble out of the dirt and levitated it a few hooves off the ground. "Now, Equestrian Wasteland 101,” the doctor continued. “There are three things you need to watch out for: mutated animals, raiders, and ferals. The cumulative radiation from over 200 years has mutated Equestria's wildlife into monsters, well most of the wildlife. Raiders are gangs of ponies who…well, think of them as bandits. It’s just that these ponies rape, pillage and desecrate bodies to put them on display for their own twisted enjoyment. Stay away from them as much as possible. They are all jacked up on drugs and adrenaline, and they don’t care about mercy.
“Then there are the ferals. Ghouls who have lost everything, including their minds, become savage and aggressive, attacking everything that they—”
"Ghouls?” I interrupted.
“Oh, yes. Ghouls are ponies who were ravaged by radiation when the bombs fell. They’re living ponies—even if they don’t look it—who should’ve died years ago. I feel sorry for them, though. There’s a lot of bigotry towards ghouls since some go feral. I’ve met plenty of damn fine ghouls, though.” The doctor sighed. “They’re mostly in the tunnels and metro stations around Equestria. Oh, and don’t try to hide from either the raiders or feral ghouls. They’ll just kill you. Anyway, I need to check on Star now. With the way he cooks, he could burn the house down. Again.”
I looked at the doctor and raised an eyebrow. He chuckled and waved me toward the building down the way.
Seeing how far the pebble could fly didn't end the way I had hoped. Knocking out a pony on accident wasn't what I’d intended, but the stallion's family sure thought I had. I hid behind a stack of barrels to conceal myself from the small scrimmage going past me. I held my breath and slumped to the wall.
What was I even doing here? I’d outlived what little family I had left. All my friends were dead, just like the country that I’d fought so hard and so long for. Dead beneath the unforgiving clouds. To make matters worse, it started to rain. Hard.
I've been in a few rainstorms in my life, but when the clouds haven't been tamed and contained for over 200 years, the weather can be cruel. In mere seconds I was drenched from head to hoof. I sat there in the churning mud for what felt like hours, and a quick glance at my PipBuck confirmed that I actually had. I knocked my head back into the side of the building. I’d outlived my purpose in life. I was just an old, worn-out soldier who did what he needed to do for Goddesses and country. I wasn't anything special, just an old stallion with nothing left to lose. I looked up at the dark, cold sky.
"I'm so...so sorry, Dad!" I cried through racking sobs.
"I-I tried my best to keep you all safe. I left you and mom to do what I thought was right. Turns out I was wrong. I... I hope you had an easy death. You... a-and Ma...Pike...Vinny, Griff...Gran-gran." I teared up again and buried my face in my hooves. I sat there and cried and cried. Cried for everypony that I’d let down. I finally felt all of it sink in. I was supposed to be dead. I’d gotten myself shot, and now I couldn't stop that doctor in the clinic from saving me, couldn’t tell the rest to save themselves instead. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to be buried in the sand in that canyon along with my brothers-in-arms. I deserved to die.
I felt someone flop down beside me. I hadn’t even heard them come over. I looked up to see a mare in a black overcoat and a burgundy vest pulling out a cigarette from her pocket.
"So you’re the one doing all that moanin' out here."
She had a light charcoal coat with a bright red mane sticking out of her tan rawhide cowpony hat. The mare lit the cigarette and took a long puff, blowing the smoke into the air above her.
"So what's your story, hm?" She looked at me sweetly with icy blue eyes. "Mare troubles? Family tragedy? Somepony stole your sweetroll?" she asked with a smile. I looked down at my hooves. "I don't know what to do anymore, I-I'm not supposed to be alive. I don't even wa-" I was interrupted by an unexpected outburst.
The mystery mare slapped me right in the face.
I looked up at her in shock. "What the fuck did you do that for?!"
She looked down at me. "None of us should be alive," she replied coldly. I looked at her now in confusion. Then something happened that was probably even more unexpected than the kick. She picked me up from the ground and embraced me in a hug.
"None of us should be alive. Every single one of us fight for our lives on a daily basis," she said softly in my ear. “But here we are, and we deal with it the best we can." She hugged me tighter. "Broken Reign, I’m sure the time will come again for to prove yourself for Equestria, but that’s not today. We need you, Reign, Charity City needs you. There are others out there who are counting on somepony like you.”
I pushed myself from the mare and sat there in the everstill gloom of the rain. "I'm not a good pony," I muttered. She came over and sat right next to me. "Oh, but you are. More than you realize, I think. What you did to Sid and Zephyr the other day showed ponies around here that we don't have to put up with their shit anymore." She stood up, threw her cigarette, and started to walk away. "One day you’ll find yourself faced with a choice. When that days comes, I want you to do what you think is right."
“What the hay just happened?” I thought as I watched her walk back into that unforgiving weather. Then I realized something. "Hey!" I stood up and ran towards where she disappeared. "Wh-I… I didn't-what's your name?" I finally sputtered out. A faint voice came back through the rain. "Cinnamon Twist, but my friends just call me Cin."
Cin, huh? Wait...did she just call me a friend?
I finally felt something—happiness, or fulfillment, maybe—that I hadn't felt since I’d woken up from stasis. Maybe Cin was right. I knew I wasn’t a good pony (hell, the only thing I was “good” at was getting shot), but there were obviously ponies much worse than me out there. The rain still pounded the ground around me like the cannons from all those years ago. But I don't know what to do from here. Where to go. I imagined that there might be still some sort of army protecting what’s left. Maybe I would reenlist.
"Yeah, and they would look you up on those little scanny robot things again and find you long past retirement!" I thought out loud. I chuckled at my on joke.
“I'm so gonna die out here.”
I approached the house that Doctor Stein had told me about. I lifted a hoof to knock on the door when a blur of white shot past me. I jumped in fright and found myself staring into the eyes of one serious ugly dog. Its pale-green eyes were inches from my own, seeming to stare right into my soul.
I gulped audibly.
"Please don't eat me," I squeaked. The dog barked and wagged his tail wildly. He hopped away from me and disappeared around the porch corner. I looked after him, puzzled. “What was all that about?” I thought to myself as I trotted over to the corner of the building. I peeked around it to see a stallion sitting in a wheelchair with a blanket over his hind legs, cleaning his rifle.
"Umm, hello?" I said. The other pony looked up at me and smiled. He had a dark red coat and a black mane. He waved at me to come over. “Come, my friend. Let me get you something to drink. Do you like tea?" He lifted a cup over to me gingerly. I began to relax, and I smiled happily at the offer.
"Yes, very much so. Thank you." I took up the saucer and cup with my magic. “Ooh, I see your little act on the hill there didn't render you magicless," he chuckled. “My name's Whip Leash, and before you ask, no, I don't like whips or leashes. It’s just the name my father gave me." He looked serious for a moment, making me a little bit edgy. Then he hoofed me on my leg. “Hey, bro, lighten up. We'll never get anywhere with you being down in the dumps right now, will we?" I put down my tea and looked at him. This stallion, he seemed so happy. "So, I see you’ve recovered a little bit. Would you mind telling me how you came into the company of those two idiots?" He took a sip of his tea, looking at me for an answer. I cleared my throat and began.
“Well, it started a few years ago....."
I regaled Whip Leash with what had happened at Sawhorse Gulch, how I’d been shot and put into the stasis pod, and how I’d woken up with the pair of slavers. He seemed to just draw it out of me. He seemed like a nice pony. He sat there, listening intently and polishing his gun. At some point I asked if I could borrow the cleaning supplies for my own rifle. I mean, I hadn't cleaned it since Sawhorse, and I was damn sure that Zephyr hadn't maintained it. We just sat there together, cleaning our guns and listening to me ramble on about my trudge from the canyon to the hill overlooking Greenhoof.
“Well that sucks," Whip Leash replied after I’d finished.
What? That was it, "That sucks?" I was a little disappointed. I was kind of hoping for a “wow, that must have been hard on you, have the rest of the tea" type of reaction.
"Yeah, well I should thank you for saving my plot out there," I replied gingerly, rubbing the back of my neck. He leaned over his rifle and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Reign. I'm sure you would do the same for me." He reached out a hoof, and I smiled and bumped it with my own.
We sat there exchanging stories of our short lives. Whip Leash was apparently a sergeant in a "Red Eye" Army, whatever that meant, and he didn't like where his commander was going with his plan to restore Equestria. He roamed the land for a while until he took up trading, then bodyguard, to when he settled down here after a run-in with a raider with a shotgun, taking out of the game with a slug to the lung. Just I and my new found friend.
He put down his rifle to the side of his chair after he cleaned it to a brilliant shine. “So, what’s its name?" he asked suddenly. I looked up to him again with confusion in my eyes. "Huh?" I replied. He laughed at me for a second. “Oh, come on. Don't tell me you haven't named it yet!" he pointed a hoof at my rifle. I looked down at my firearm on my lap. “Name it?" I mumbled. “Yeah," Whip Leash spouted. “Out here, everything has a story, even weapons. Hell, especially weapons! Every one has history, good or bad. Well, not all, but some. I'm sure that you and that rifle have been through a lot together."
I had thought about it before. Hell, even Gramps thought on it. Even after he gave it to Dad, and Dad passed it to me. His memory lived through this gun. The last thing left before his house was burned down... I shook my head. No more. None of those thoughts right now.
I looked at the rifle for the longest time, admiring the sheen of the wood. The sixteen marks on the butt of the rifle, signifying the lives it had taken. The polished steel of the barrel and casings. The whole gun now shined in brilliance from careful care and dedication. The years that followed Grandfather’s death and my Fathers, this gun carried my family’s burdens, delivered our food to the table, fought off hordes of critters and zebra as equals. That’s when it happened. The name of my rifle. I took out my knife and started to lightly and cautiously chip away at the wood under the bolt. Whip Leash sat up in his chair, watching me give the name to my lifelong friend. The next few minutes were tedious, but when that last chip fell away, I sat back to see the new-found name etched beneath the bolt.
Fang.
I placed some lacquer around the chipped wood so it would look part of the rifle, like it’d been there for years. "Well, not the name I would of given it, but if that’s its name, that’s its name."
Whip Leash groaned as he started to stand. The blanket fell away from his lap to reveal... nothing. He had no hind legs! From his torso down all there was was a gnarled lump of flesh and hair. He sat back and grabbed the brake from beside the wheels and flipped around. “Oh, don't look too surprised. I’ve been in worse situations in the past while being disabled. I can still kick plot with the rest of them.” He wheeled around me and towards the door. "Come on, Boone!" he yelled, holding open the door. The massive dog bounded around the corner again and through the door. “Come on in, Reign. You can stay here for tonight. Meet the rest of the misfits." He smiled that optimistic smile and scooted into the house. I followed suit.