A single man stood still upon a small mound of dirt, staring out at the ruined landscape before him. His mask was a network of metal and tubing, connected to an exhaust fan on his back. Stark black armour covered his entire frame. He raised his hand to his ear, holding a small radio.
“Yes. Is that so? Thanks for the info, Doctor. I'll take that into consideration.” He lowered his hand, looking at his wrist. The device on his arm glowed, the screen green with power. He tapped the screen lightly with his gloved finger – various cracks around the edge denoting that he had accidentally pushed too hard on several occasions. He stared down at the ground. He liked his missions for what many called the most brilliant minds in the wasteland he called home. He called them absolute nutcases. Sighing, he started forwards. His Heads Up Display showed his compass marker for the new objective he had been given. It was another useless item that the scientists he had been helping had requested that he find. Reaching into a carrying case he kept attached to his side, he removed a small syringe filled with a red liquid. Removing his power armoured glove, he slid the thin needle into his rough, weathered hand, the liquid filling his veins. Breathing slowly, he stared forward at the desert. “Stimpacks. A wanderer's best friend in this godforsaken wasteland.” Stepping down from where he stood, he collected the empty syringe and his glove, returning both to where they had been before. Starting off towards his objective marker, he began to hum to the tune of “I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire.”
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The man in powered armour stopped to catch his breath, his objective marker close in front of him. Staring ahead, his eyes fell upon a large dumpster.
“You've got to be kidding me.” With a sigh, he jogged towards the dumpster, reaching his hand inside. With a heavy tug, he brought out what could have been considered as impossible, at least for an item inside of a dumpster. He had brought out a partially constructed plasma rifle. He lifted the radio to his ear, staring around.
“Ah, teddy bear? Is that you?” The sultry female voice on the other end was surprised that the man was calling.
“Yeah, Doc. I've got the... thing you guys wanted. Gonna use the device now.”
“The 'device'?” The man in powered armour shook his head in amazement.
“The Transportalponder, naturally. Should be fully functioning after the day I let it recharge, right?” The voice on the other end sighed. A voice behind her spoke as well.
“It is ready for you to transport, lobotomite. Hurry it up! We don't have all day!” With a slight nod, the man slid his radio away. A quick press on his wrist device, and a small pistol-like object was brought out. The tubes in the middle of the device glowed as he pressed the trigger, the Transportalponder warming up. He smiled until it began to flash rapidly. He looked up at the sky.
“This isn't right...” Something glowed across his arms, his arms becoming transparent.
“Lobotomite! Your coordinates are changing! What's happening?! Respond!” With a bright flash of light, the man was gone, part of what appeared to be a plasma rifle still glowing from light that had sheared it in half.
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On another world, a storm had gathered, a storm beyond all reasoning of the land that it was appearing over. Lightning flashed, winds howled, and rain hammered structures of a small town within what appeared to be a vast desert, with various areas like oases. Various creatures ran around, screaming. Lightning struck all over, setting fires. Although none of them would notice, a particularly large blast of lightning struck a far ways into the desert, smoke rising from where it had struck.
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A tall, bipedal figure landed in the midst of the large scorch mark he now inhabited. He was kneeling, his balled-up fist slammed into the ground. With a quick movement, he stood up, staring around. Something was incredibly off about where he stood, but he could not place it. He turned, barely making out what appeared to be a small town in the distance, the storm above rapidly dissipating. He shook his head, jogging towards the town, his uncertainty pushed to the back of his mind.
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“Yeah. Nopony knows what happened, but the storm just came in, and hit like nothing that anypony here has ever seen before-” The small blue pony with a black mane stared up at the strange figure that had entered through the doorway. Every creature in the small tavern had fallen silent, dust blowing through the door. Without a word, the strange creature sat down, staring at the barkeeper. He turned, looking around.
“Must be a Tuesday.” He removed his helmet, revealing a shaved head, grey hair, and piercing blue eyes. He brought out a small bag, staring down again. He slowly untied the top, bottlecaps pouring out. “Give me the strongest drink you got-” He was interrupted by something large on his shoulder. Something was grabbing him.
“We don't like deadbeats 'round these parts. Understand?” The bald man chuckled. Without a single warning, he turned around, his fist slamming into the creatures stomach. With a kick, the creature flew out the door. He fastened his helmet back onto his head, a satisfying hiss issuing forth when it locked. He jogged out, readying himself in a fighting stance, his knees low to the ground.
“Don't you fucking touch me.” The anger was tangible in the man's voice. His knuckles cracked as he squeezed his fists tightly. “If someone touches me, that means they want to fight. So, I'm going to fuck you up. No hard feelings.” The man's fist lashed out, slamming into the creature's face. Blood sprayed as he threw punch after punch. Once the creature had fallen down, to only twitch on the ground, did he look at what he had been fighting. He had never seen anything quite like... the mutilated face of the creature he had just bashed the face in of. It reminded him of stories of a creature called a minotaur. Man of a body, bull head, and below the waist was a goat... or something along those lines. He grabbed the minotaur's neck, hauling him to stand up.
“I-Iron Will can take you! Iron Will is s-scared of nothing!” The man shrugged.
“I said I'd fuck you up, and that's exactly what I fucking did.” He poked the minotaur in the chest for emphasis. “You think you're the shit, but you're nothing. Go give your shitty advice to someone who gives a fuck.” The man turned to a crowd of ponies, all with angry glares. “Oh, don't you fucking start!” With a quick glance, he scrolled through his wrist device, selecting something that read “Compliance Regulator.” A flash of green, and it was in his hand, pointed towards the angry crowd.
“You beat up somepony in the local tavern, and expect us to accept your... caps to pay for a drink? What do you think we are, patsies?!” The man was staring at the sky, sniffing a flower.
“Not really. Naturally, this is just a normal Tuesday for me. I've seen some crazy shit, and this is pretty much just more of the same. Probably some hallucination from that stim from earlier.” He looked back at Iron Will, who now had goats attending to him. He had gotten himself cleaned up quickly, the wounds barely visible on the surface. “Just be glad I was holding back, or you'd be dead.” The man held out his hand to the minotaur, frowning. “I'm Courier Six, although everyone just calls me 'The Courier'. You can call me Six.” Iron Will took the hand, frowning as well.
“Well, Iron Will-” Six stared at Iron Will, irritation playing across his face like a piano.
“Stop referring to yourself in the third person. Very irritating.” Six looked past Iron Will at the tavern. The entire front side of the tavern was gone, debris scattered all around the dirt road. “Okay. There's definite reason for them being pissed off at me. Fuck.” He let go of Iron's hand, raising his hand to the back of his helmet, rubbing it slightly.
“You did kick me through the wall, if that means anything.” Six frowned, staring at it.
“That's easy to fix, especially even with a basic understanding of construction and engineering.” He looked down at his hand, his radio still crackling. “That should have died by now.” He held it up to his ear, a familiar voice bringing a warmth to his heart.
“Doctor Mobius!”
“Shut up, Mobius.” He put the radio away, looking back over at the ponies. “All right. I'll help with the repairs. That had better net me a drink, though.” He looked back at the town in front of him. “Fucking Tuesdays.”
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Each repair brought the small tavern more popularity. The bar was replaced, a shiny, heavy mahogany top gracing it. The piano inside, something that had not worked for years, sang its songs once more when Six finished with it. The front end was repaired piece by piece, becoming something beyond what it had been before. Wooden pillars supported a brand new porch, tables adorning the tough oak that had been used for the construction.
A few weeks later, the entirety of the repairs was complete. Six stood in front of his handiwork, smiling. He had long since removed his powered armour, instead switching to a work jumpsuit.
“Perfect.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking back at his work. “Better than I expected. Should withstand... mostly anything I throw at it now.” He stripped down out of the jumpsuit, laying it carefully on the ground. Pointing the device on his wrist at it, the jumpsuit disappeared, appearing as a line of text on the screen of the device. He pressed several more times, a flash of light appearing all over him. His familiar powered armour began to materialize. He looked down, balling up his fist. He looked around. “So, quick question. Do I get that drink now?”
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Several bottles of their hardest drink later, Six wandered out of the tavern, smiling with drunken pride. He stumbled towards a group of ponies who were also just as tipsy.
“You know what? For something out of my own messed up head... you're... all right.” He staggered, falling over. He picked himself up, looking around. The alcohol ran its course faster than he had anticipated. Raising his hand to his head, he waited for the inevitable hangover which did not come. He stared at his hands with confusion. “This is new.” He looked around. He had seen symbols of a sun, in places that some in the Mojave would have reserved for flags of affiliation, especially the New California Republic. He sighed. Jogging over to what he assumed was the town leader, he cleared his throat, startling him into realizing that Six was standing behind him.
“Whoa nelly! Y'all startled me there, pardner. Y'all looking for something?” Six held up a small flag with a sun centered on it.
“Who is your leader? NCR, Caesar's Legion, Enclave?” The pony stared up at him, his green eyes blinking with no knowledge.
“What the hay are those? Some kind of strange idea of yours?” Six stared down with a little irritation. Something was really starting to feel off for him. Although he had spent weeks repairing their little tavern, he had still assumed that he was in the Mojave. His mind was trying to process that somebody had no knowledge of any of those groups.
“Okay. Here's a better question. Where the fuck am I?!” He gripped the pony's... well, what he assumed were shoulders. He did not understand physiology all that well, only well enough to kill a target easily, or to heal himself. He shook the pony hard for emphasis.
“W-Whoa! P-Pardner! Y'all are in Equestria!” Six backed up, the information finally being processed by his brain.
“This... this isn't the Mojave?! What the fuck happened to me?! What in the actual fuck happened!” He gripped his radio tightly, bringing it up to his ear. “Mobius, Klein! Where the fuck am I?! Am I even on Earth anymore?!” A slight crackle was followed by the unmodified voice of Doctor Zero.
“I checked the coordinates, lobotomite. No, you are not on Earth. To be perfectly honest, we don't know where you are. You're beyond anything we've recorded before.” Six dropped the radio. He was no longer on Earth. That realization hit hard. Underneath his helmet, a smile crept over his face. He was beyond any technology that the Brotherhood of Steel could use to track him, and only the scientists at Big Mountain had any chance of contacting him. He picked up his radio, dusting it off.
“Could you check the status of the ARCHIMEDES II satellite weapon? I need my last resort weapon.” A whirring sound issued forth from the radio, followed by Zero's voice.
“ARCHIMEDES II is tracking your position. You're apparently around another star... the planet you're on... it's orbiting... Proxima Centauri?!” The apparent surprise was evident in Zero's voice.
“I can hazard a guess that what you said is really bad.” Excitement poured through the radio as Zero ignored what Six had said.
“You've transported to another planet! This is an incredible feat of science! Klein and the others will be so happy!” A whirring sound issued forth as the line was shut down from the other end. Six shook his head.
“Fucking eggheads.” He turned to the pony. He looked him over. He was orange, with a short blond mane and tail. His cowboy hat was interesting. He pointed out in the distance. “Tell me where your national leaders are. I'd like to meet with them.” A familiar voice made him shake his head.
“Iron Will will take you to Canterlot. Courier! You will meet with the princesses, and then Iron Will will-” Iron was met with a fist in his stomach.
“Yeah. Take me there. But I'll beat the fuck out of you again if you even try to peddle your shitty advice there. Sometimes you've got to cut loose, and try something new.” Iron Will quietly led Six to his personal train, where a team of twelve goats stood, ready for Iron Will and Six.
“All right. Also, would you be willing to teach Iron Will your methods of fighting?” Six stared at him, smiling.
“All right. While we're heading there. Just remember, if you're going to convince someone you're serious about hurting them, you do not smile, or even let them know what you're going to do. Example.” He turned to another minotaur that walked by. “I'm going to kick the living shit out of you!” The minotaur backed up, running away scared. “Reputation, my friend. Reputation is everything. Show you're scary, and people will always be intimidated.” They entered the train together, Six staring at the inside. There was a full training room, complete with punching bags. Six began to remove his armour when Iron Will held up a hand.
“Why do you remove your armour?”
“This device on my arm, this Pip-Boy, stores items, armour, weapons, you name it, in a small pocket dimension. Some things... can get sucked in if you're not careful. I learned that one the hard way.” Removing his shoulder and arm plating, he revealed robotic limbs instead of flesh and bone. “I lost my arms. Painful, but some scientists were happy to replace them with robotic equivalents. That's how I was able to hurt you so badly, besides the fact I was wearing powered armour.” He sat down, pressing his Pip-Boy. The armour disappeared in a flash, reappearing as representative icons on the Pip-Boy's screen.
“You mean, you could carry anything you wanted to in there, and no one would know?” Iron Will's curiosity had been piqued.
“Takes too long to explain, but in short, yeah. Let's get going. I want to meet... what kind of leaders does Equestria have?”
“Two princesses.” Six smiled.
“Then let's meet these princesses.” I always wanted to meet a princess. I wonder what they're like. As long as they're not fucking ponies, I'll be fine. “And don't talk to me for a while. This whole ordeal has been like a long fucking Tuesday for me.” The train rumbled as it left the station, leaving two individuals silent within. Far in the distance, two more were arriving at his destination, a fact he would know soon. He laid back, staring up at the ceiling. It was going to be a long train ride.