Project Overlord

by TheFullCrumb

Chapter 2 - The Junction

Scrapyard Junction. Oh, how we of the Bonelands absolutely love and despise you all in the same breath. There was nothing you could do in that town and not have noticed. Everypony had eyes everywhere, not just for their own safety but for everypony else's as well. Though it had been a few years since I last laid eyes on that settlement, the reaction of the sentries was, shall we say, less than pleasant.

“Sand Skiff sighted! Arming turrets!” There went my only option of talking. They were going to shred the Homeward, and me along-

“Hold off, ya bleedin' idiots! That there be Schooner! He be back from his wanderin'!” I sighed, shifting slightly as I looked up at the stallion who had called off the sentries. His armor was quite dirty, caked blood in areas most likely from previous engagements, though his muscles were still strong, and he still had that determined jaw- well, I stopped there. Waving my hoof, I smiled as the Homeward slowed down, being drawn in by a pony team on the ground, a hook on the front dragging the skiff forwards.

“Well met, Kipper. I see you're doing well.” Kipper, the young stallion, galloped up to me, nuzzling in close. I sighed, bringing my hoof around his shoulders. The guards stood by, staring around in case of any enemy attack.

“Good ta see ya, Uncle. Valence has been askin' fer ya fer sort 'a month. Ya should'a come back sooner.” Kipper motioned to behind the other guards, pointing towards a row of graves.

“I'm sorry, Kipper. Can't help it when I ain't here.”

“It was one o' their bleedin' scoutin' parties. Ten years, aye? Ten, and they go an' come 'long back!” My blood boiled when my nephew mentioned, without saying anything, the ones who had taken my leg, and my boat, from me. The Enclave had been there, and they had tried once more to wipe out Scrapyard Junction. I was about to shout when a sound from behind brought me back to my passengers.

“Ah, right. Kipper, these two be from the Wasteland-”

“Wastelanders, here?! How be ya came here?!” I pulled Kipper away from them, tearing him off to the side for a little private chat.

“They came from somewhere, Kipper. If'n it be a Stable, somewhere here in th' Bonelands, we'd have it made. Keep quiet and let me talk, 'kay?” Kipper nodded, acquiescing to my request as he stepped back, letting Grey and Misty stepped forward. Grey nodded his head at Kipper, who merely looked indignant as he stared off to the side.

“All right, ya Bonelanders! These two be Grey Hunter, and- well, I don't think I got yer little filly's name, Grey.”

“Missy Fall.”

“Excuse me?”

“M-my nam is Missy Fall.” Grey stepped between everypony there and her, glaring at the rest.

“You've gone and upset her. Her name is Misty Falls. Anypony has a problem with her, you come to me, understand? 'Cause I will find out if somepony makes her cry. You don't want to make her cry.” I stepped back, taken somewhat by surprise by that side of Grey. While, yes, it was an improvement over his previous naivete, he had just painted a big fat target on his forehead. I mentally scratched down a tally for the rules of the Bonelands again.

Rule of the Bonelands: If somepony sees what you have as valuable, you had better be able to protect it.

I stepped in, putting my hoof on Grey's shoulder.

“Look, we don't want ta stay out here after dark, Grey. Probably should find me old place and settle down for the night.” Walking away slowly, I let him and Misty catch up, staring out at the Junction. The settlement was one of the few that remained even with the constant barrage of sand and weather that was thrown at them. The static storms were probably the worst, massive bolts of lightning charged up in the sand storms that was released as soon as a small amount hit metal. I stared around until my eyes caught onto a small shop in the center, where a diminutive unicorn still cooked.

“Merry, merry, who wants a cherry? How about- Schooner? By my blessed eyes, is that you? Come here for a kebab!” Grey looked like he wanted to vomit, while Misty appeared not to understand. I sighed, looking back at them.

“Scrapyard Junction is built on top of a massive greenhouse. The solar dome built into it survived the nuclear explosions, but the radiation kicked the growth process of the plants into overdrive.” Another pony walked up, smiling as she sat down, taking a vegetable kebab from the shopkeeper.

“Hello Miss Berrymay. Been a while, ain't it?” The mare in the shop smiled, placing another kebab in front of the other mare.

“Hollyweather here kept on asking for you, Schooner, when you were coming back?” The mare at the counter looked up, her one good eye staring at me with its soft green colours. I had forgotten how beautiful Hollyweather was, and why I stayed away from her. Her smooth grey coat, the tail that made most stallions turn their heads- focus, Schooner! No thinking about the mares, you have more important things.

“Berrymay, what's the word on our 'feathered friends?'” Almost all at once, everything went silent. Berrymay frowned, her horn lighting up as she levitated a shotgun out in front of me. Her expression told me everything.

“Go away, Schooner.”

“They killed a camp not four kilometers away.”

“Schooner, you son of an ass-hat, I said-”

“I meant 'have you seen any Enclave,' Berrymay. Don't think for a moment I have forgotten what they took from me while you stood by and smiled.” Grey had a pistol in his mouth, while Misty stood behind him, cowering in fear. I frowned, bringing out my own pistol, laying it on the table. Berrymay stared me down, though it would not do her any good. I had stared down Enclave soldiers and only lost an eye and a leg.

“Schooner, we all know-”

“They were there, Hollyweather. Innocent settlers were killed-”

“'Innocent?' Those bastards were dead-on-hooves! Killers, murderers, they deserved-”

“To be gunned down where they stood? For their corpses to be a camping area for an Enclave patrol? Tell me, Hollyweather, how is the good Colonel these day-” With that, Hollyweather launched herself at me, slamming me to the ground and kicking as much as she could at my barrel. A shout and I felt hooves dragging her and myself away separately.

“Can ya at least keep it t'gether if'n before I toss ya in the jail, Schooner? Hollyweather never knew 'er hubby was Enclave, and Berrymay was at th' barrel o' one o' those arcane rifles the Enclave likes to spout about. You keep goin' like this, and I'll have ta put a bullet through ya to get the message through ta ya.” I clamped my mouth shut, staring straight ahead. I hated doing that to Hollyweather, but it was a sure-fire way to keep her away from me. I was the crazy old kook who hated everything to do with the Enclave, not some hero who would fight tooth and hoof for other ponies. Those kinds were only in stories and legends, not in the Bonelands. Kipper pointed me towards my home, sighing as he hoofed over the key.

“Get yerself some shut-eye, ya hear, Schooner?” Looking away, I stepped away, leading Grey and Misty to a ramshackle building near the end of the platform we all stood on. Sighing, I slid the key into its slot, turning it until the lock clanked opened. With a hiss, the door slid open, leaving Grey and Misty to fawn over the technology that the Junction had been able to collect. The radio in the corner stood still, its silent visage a testament to the old tech that my fellow Bonelanders had scavenged.

“Welcome to Casa de Schooner, lad and lass. O’er there is the bedroom, o’er here is where what ‘ittle food I gots is, and ‘ere is the sittin’ room. Since you both are fixin’ to probably be sleepin’ soon, yer best choice would be the bed in that there bedroom. I got some things ta take care of, but I’ll be quiet as a Bonescorp.”

Bonescorps. Now there was something that was terrifying in its own personal beauty. A Bonescorp was an extremely mutated scorpion that had calcium collect in various portions of its body, giving it a sort of, well, a skeleton image all over. One tap o’ poison, and you would be lying on the ground, dead almost instantly.

Metal armor was the best defense against them, seeing as their stinger was fittin’ only for stabbin’ through flesh.

‘Quiet as a Bonescorp,’ though, is the worst phrase a Bonelander can say. A Bonescorp was quieter ‘n a churchmouse, even clambering over metal shells and heavy vehicles. At least they were no Paraspewer, but those were just something ya did not talk about.

Looking around my place, I realized that there were a few things missing. One, my old battle-saddle was missing, and it was usually strung above the doorway to the bedroom. The ammunition was nowhere to be found, and a lot of his food was missing. No honor among thieves, I reckoned.

A soft knock at my front door brought my attention back to reality. Pressing a switch next to the door, I was surprised by a very quick kiss from Hollyweather, her one good eye smiling up at me as she entered the room.

“It’s good to see you, Schooner, even if you keep bringing up that nasty Colonel,” Hollyweather whispered. I smiled, hugging her close as the door hissed shut.

“It’s good ta see ya too, lass.”

“So, those two kids. You say they’re from the Wasteland, on the other side of the Rad Wastes?” Damn. She had been paying attention. I nodded silently, shrugging as it all was the truth.

The Wasteland. A funny place when you have lived in the Bonelands your entire life. Radio broadcasts occasionally make it through the radiation, but ‘cept in those rare circumstances, you would be ‘ard-pressed to get any signal.

“Yeah. If’n they be tellin’ the truth, they be the first ones in ten years.” Hollyweather was flashing her eye at me, letting her short mane frame her face perfectly in the low light. Smiling, I nuzzled right up to her, making her sigh as she closed her eye.

“Oh, celestial powers, I forgot how good that felt, Schooner.” Pulling away, I looked back, jerking my head towards the chess set on the small table in the sitting room. A couple of old cushions flanked that table, sweat and age showing clearly on the oft-patched fabric.

“Up fer a game, lass?”

=--------====|/0\|====--------=

The next morning was difficult, as Misty and Grey were not early risers like my old self. Berrymay was at her little shop, making something that smelled a sight better than the cushions Hollyweather and I had fallen asleep on.

“Merry, merry, who wants a- oh, it’s you, Schooner. Kebab?” Anypony could say whatever they wanted, but Berrymay’s vegetable kebabs were the best thing to eat in the morning. Nopony knew how she did it, but her secret sauces were always amazing. It always helped that she was in charge o’ the subterranean greenhouse.

“Make it a double, Berry. I’m fixin’ to get an earlier start ‘n normal.” Smiling, she tossed two onto a metal plate, sliding it in front of me. The smell was always amazing, but there was a vegetable I did not recognize immediately. Taking a quick bite, the taste was enough for me to let out a loud whoop.

“Noticed the potato, eh, Schooner? First batch finished growing yesterday.” Being the old gruff of the town always made me feel slightly out of place, but it felt nice. Berry was almost the same age as I, her once blue coat faded to more o’ a sky blue. Her mane was greying in many areas, but you could tell she was a tough’n.

“Yep. Nothin’ better than well-cooked tater. Ah, look who ‘cided to wake ‘emselves up!” Grey looked like he had barely slept a wink, and Misty was as fearful and timid as she was before. Berry placed two more plates out with a kebab each, the satisfying smells of each seeming to quell the irritation that Grey had on his face. I could’a sworn, with the look he was fixin’ ta give me, he could’a melted steel. Testing a bite, he seemed to find it palatable, and gobbled it down quickly. Misty seemed less timid, and slurped those veggies right off the skewer.

“Hey, Schooner, you headin’ out later?” I could have felt Kipper’s gaze from across the Bonelands, if he was so inclined. It felt like he was trying to burn two holes through my spine, and kill me where I stood.

“Yeah, Kipper. If’n ya don’t mind, I got a few things ta check out. Won’ need the Homeward fer a lot o’ it, so ya kin hang onto ‘er.” Kipper nodded, walking away as I finished eating my kebabs. Grey and Misty stood to the side, staring at me as I lay a few caps down on the counter. It was as if Grey was trying to read my mind, which would not make any sense to any of the ponies in Scrapyard Junction.

“So, Grey, you’re planning on leaving soon?”

His question brought me back out of my thoughts rather abruptly.

“Yeah, Grey. Th’ Enclave was there, and them bodies t’werent’ more than a week’s worth of sand old. Th’ Enclave is coming back, and I’m fixin’ ta figure ou’ why.” A tapping on my side brought my attention to Hollyweather. I swear, that mare could out-sneak a Bonescorp, she was so quiet sometimes.

“I’m coming along as well. I lost some friends in the last attack, and I want first strike against those bastards.”

“Then ya should be gettin’ ready ta leave soon.” She nodded silently, before hoofing over a package to me. From its weight, I could only hazard a guess as to what it was.

Tearing it open, I was pleased to find my battle-saddle inside, with the light rifle attached looking a lot cleaner than it had before. As I looked up to thank her, Hollyweather planted a light kiss on my cheek, smiling as she trotted away, her tail swaying to-and-fro- pay attention, Schooner. You have to focus! Turning to Grey and Misty, I cleared my throat, my plan already coming into motion in my head.

“All right, Grey, Misty. King’s Fall is ‘bout the next place we want ta be checkin’ fer Enclave activity, if’n ya think ya kin handle what th’ Bonelands kin throw at yer young selves. Just remember, ‘quiet as a Bonescorp’ means watch ou’ fer them white scorpions, ‘less you fixin’ ta end up dead in th’ sand.” My point less-than-subtly made, I trotted over to the gate controls. My hoof hesitated, hovering over the button that would open the gate for us to leave. I could not tell ya what I was thinkin’, but I could tell ya that I was plumb scared. Bonescorps and Paraspewers are not to be trifled with, ‘specially the latter.

Paraspewers are the unfortunate result of a cross-mutation mixing a parasprite and a radscorpion. If a Bonescorp is quiet as death, a Paraspewer is louder ‘n sin, and twice as ugly. They come in clouds, caustic and poisonous juices dripping from their mouths as they ‘spew’ corrosive juices at anything that moves. They scoop up the goo left behind, and out pops another one. Most Bonelanders do not have to worry about them, as they prefer to be near the Rad Wastes, but Paraspewers had a tendency to get out of hand and wipe out settlements. Unfortunately, most of the clean water was near the Rad Wastes.

“Well, are we ready to go?” My thoughts returned to reality, Hollyweather, Grey Hunter, and Misty Falls standing behind me with concern growing on their faces, silly faces in the case of Misty. Sighing, I pushed that there button, opening that gate.

I wish I had never seen what happened next.

[[Author's Notes are currenty borked up]]
UPDATE:
Level Up!
Grey Hunter has earned the perk 'Protector'

Grey's resolve will get tested, and more will happen later, but for now, we're small potatoes in a big Wasteland.

Also, potatoes are amazing, and when cooked properly, are the best thing since sliced bread.