Chapter 2: Slavers
“What goes around comes around.”
Feed.
As we exited the swamp I rummaged through Tumble’s saddlebags to see what he’d had. There were more bullets. Ammunition. Three vials of purple fluid. Healing potions. Packets of ‘Rad-Away.’ Protection from the bad air. There were also two bottles of ‘Sparkle-Cola,’ a sack full of bottle caps, hunks of dried meat—ponies eat meat now?—and one small burgundy apple. I scarfed down the apple and some of the meat before taking a swig from the Sparkle-Cola. Carroty. I downed the rest of it and tossed the bottle aside. That felt good.
I wasn’t full, but at least I was no longer running on empty. I breathed a sigh of relief and Fishhooks, the red mare, gave me an odd look, but none of the others seemed to care about my sudden binge, least of all the slaves. Most of them marched with their heads bowed to the ground, and one had been crying since the taintigator attack. I pitied them, but there wasn’t much I could have done.
The path we traveled on might once have been a road, but now it was nothing more than a dry indent worn into the ground over the years by hundreds of hooffalls. Around us were the remains of farmland. Empty acres of flat dirt with a few buildings and defunct machines scattered throughout. Where orchards had once been there remained only decayed stumps and a few burnt skeletons. Pipes that had irrigated crops were corroded away or rusted over. I had overheard Fishhooks call this place the Wasteland. I could see why.
“...an’ then he tried to grope me, that drunk fucker, so I shot ‘im in the gut,” Hairpins concluded. She hadn’t stopped talking since the fight with the taintigator. This seemed to be her normal shtick, and her friends ignored her for the most part. “Though fer some reason they ran me outta town after that.”
“That’s because he was their mayor, Pins," Fishhooks said.
“Yeah, well, a pervert like that don’t deserve t’ be mayor.” She snorted. “He should be glad I was in a good mood an’ didn’t kill him flat out. Now, if he’d a tried to pull that shit on me a day earlier, I wouldda blasted him back t' Celestial. Ya’ see, I’d just gotten outta a tight spot way up near the Crystal Caves...”
I tuned her out as best I could. I hadn’t learned much from her ramblings—mostly gossip and anecdotes—but it had given me time to think. Right now I needed to find someplace with love, or at the very least a good feeling or two. I doubted I would find much positive emotion in this slave caravan. There must be somewhere else I could go. Hairpins had mentioned many places so far: Manehattan, Hoofington, Baltimare; but names helped me little when I had no idea where they were or how to get to them. I couldn’t risk just asking about them, though. For all I knew Tumbleweed was just as traveled as she was.
“...nothin’ but rocks! C’n ya’ believe that? I wasted seventeen clips a' ammunition fer two dead bucks an’ some useless dumb rocks!” Hairpins nickered angrily. “Nearly froze t’ death on th’ way back, too. Whoa nelly!”
In front of us one of the slaves collapsed, and our caravan stopped as Fishooks trotted over to him. The rest of the slavers kept their guns trained on their captives as the mare looked him over. I took out my gun as well, but my attention was more on the injured slave. He was short of breath and frailer than any of the others. Thinking back, I remembered seeing him stumble a few times before, but I had not thought much of it.
“Exhaustion,” Fishhooks stated, looking up at Boss, “Got any more of that Booster?”
“Yeah.” Above her, Boss shuffled through his saddlebags and levitated out a faded pink tube with a hole in the bottom and a button on top. “Only one puff left, though.” He dropped it down and Fishhooks snatched it out of the air with a hoof, pressing the open end to the collapsed buck’s snout. He tried to move his head away, but she forced him to hold still as she pressed the inhaler to his mouth. There was a small hiss of air and, before I could wonder what ‘Booster’ was, the buck jerked sharply and he jumped back up. He glanced at me, blinking rapidly, and I saw that his eyes were watery and unfocused. Fishhooks shoved him back in line and we continued on.
I was left confused as to what just happened, so I watched the stallion carefully. He shook as he walked, and once or twice it looked like he might trip, but it seemed that the Booster had restored his strength somehow. That seemed quite useful, but... the way that stallion had looked at me, or rather, NOT looked at me—a blank stare, like his mind was in a different place or gone entirely—was unnerving.
Hairpins continued her ramblings, but an uncomfortable silence had fallen over the slaves, and it seemed almost like they were avoiding stepping too close to that stallion. That bad feeling I’d had when I first saw this convoy grew stronger. I was beginning to question whether ‘joining’ them had been a good idea.
* * * * *
There was a town in the distance. Not a town of buildings, but the remains of a massive food processing plant that had been turned into a shelter. The facility looked like it had been hit with the sun. Its roof had melted, caving inward and splitting the building down the middle like a ribcage pried open. What was left of the top floor was nothing more than a few rooms filled with heaps of rusted slag. The remaining half of a pockmarked sign was propped up against the right side of the building, shouting “CHARD” to the world with the words ‘Welcome to’ spraypainted above it.
I smiled, but no one else seemed happy to see the place. Hairpins tensed, growing quiet, and the other ponies drew their weapons as we drew close. I gripped my pistol in my mouth, wondering what was wrong. Then I saw it. A stampeding group of ponies kicked up a cloud of dust as they rounded the corner of Chard. The armor they wore was covered in spikes, and their coats were stained with dried blood. They circled the town like a group of sharks, cackling and hooting as they fired potshots into the city. Several ponies tried to return fire, but their assailants had them pinned.
“Raiders,” Boss cursed. The name seemed appropriate.
Our little convoy had halted as soon as we saw the raiders, but by now they had seen us. One let out a squeal of glee as they charged us, firing their weapons haphazardly. They missed all of us by a wide margin, and we returned fire. I missed all but one of my shots, while the others managed to take down almost half of them. Damn. I would have to get better at this aiming thing if I wanted to blend in out here. Unfortunately, that still left seven angry ponies two seconds from slamming into us, and judging by the look in the eyes of the slave pony closest to me, we could only get more outnumbered.
I got ready to flee, but Boss leaped down in front of the oncoming pack, his horn surrounded by a purple aura, building magical energy. The raiders took aim, but he unleashed his spell before they could fire. They were engulfed in a purple flash, and I watched in relief and confusion as every last one of them somehow flipped over and began falling upwards. I gawked at them as they tumbled through the air, kicking and screaming and cursing until they disappeared into the clouds above. What kind of spell was that?
Hairpins whistled in the stunned silence that followed. “Still blows my mind everytime I see it.”
“Er, thanks,” the unicorn replied. His voice was strained. I looked back down and saw that he was leaning against the carriage, breathing hard with sweat on his brow. Fishhooks trotted to his side with a concerned look and whispered something to him, but he shook his head in response. That spell might have been powerful, but it had taken its toll on him.
“Now everypony get ready t’ dodge...” I heard Hairpins say.
Dodge what? I glanced at her, and then looked back up to see what she was staring at. Oh. Right.
The raiders were on their way back down.
I had only a second to scurry away from where I was standing before the caravan was hit by a rain of pony bodies. They smacked into the ground with sickening CRUNCH sounds, and everypony in our caravan scrambled to get out of the way. One of the slaves tried to take advantage of the commotion and made a break for it. It was the one who had needed the Booster. I tried to stop him, but I was too slow and he raced by me, his eyes full of fear and desperation. A second followed, but I tackled her to the ground.
“No! Get off me you fucker!” She kicked and squirmed, and it took all my less-than-abundant strength to keep her pinned. She bashed her head into my jaw, and I hissed in pain between clenched teeth. I tasted blood. Enraged, I bit her mane and forced her head back down into the ground. Now Hairpins was at my side, yelling something I couldn’t hear because I was too focused on keeping this mare from getting back up. Then—
Boom!
—the sound of another collar exploding made me freeze. The mare underneath me stopped struggling. I looked up to see the decapitated body of the slave who had slipped past me sprawled in the distance with his entrails hanging out. The mare broke down into a fit of sobbing, and I lifted myself off of her. Hairpins and a stallion whose name I hadn’t caught forced her up and shoved her back in line with the rest of the slaves. My heart pounded in my ears as my adrenaline rush subsided.
“We probably couldda gotten him back... Boss,” Fishhooks muttered.
“Not worth the trouble,” he replied. And that was all that was said.
I felt a sinking sensation as I took in what had just happened, like I was stuck in mud. So much death in so little time, and I seemed to be the only once shocked by it. Was this the norm for Equestria now? Could love still exist in a place like this? I looked over at Boss. He had already gotten to looting the raider bodies, just like a few others were doing. One raider had fallen near me, so I stooped down to check his saddlebags; even though I was on the verge of a panic attack I had act like this was normal. I frowned as I got a better look at the dead raider. His hide had been burnt off in several places, and he reeked of cooked meat.
“H-how did that happen?” I wondered aloud.
“How’d what happen?” asked Hairpins.
“The, um, burn marks. How’d they get there?”
“Oh, that’s just ‘cause a’ th’ lightning rods th’ pegasi got up there. T’ keep anything from gettin’ in.” She motioned to the clouds above. “Terrible way t’ die, gettin’ electrocuted... at least these fuckers deserved it. Haha!”
Smiling, she trotted off to loot another corpse, and I was left with more questions. Lightning rods? Pegasi again? And were raiders really that bad? Sure, they’d attacked at town, but at least they weren’t enslaving ponies and strapping bombs to their necks. What could be worse than that?
I shook my head in exasperation and rifled through the raider’s bag. He had a health potion, more packets of Rad-Away, a pair of cruel-looking knives, another gun—this one long and heavy—ammunition, and lots more bottle caps. Why so many bottle caps? I didn't know why ponies would horde what was basically garbage, but I stuffed them into my pouch with the rest of them. When in Roam. I sorted the rest of the loot into my saddlebags, and strapped the long gun to my back like the raider had worn it. I had no idea how I was supposed to use the thing without magic but I kept it anyway. I could give it to Boss if we ever go into a tight spot or something.
The knives, on the other hoof, I would definitely be keeping. They were identical in make—a jagged semi-circular blade with a wide mouth-grip—but one looked more worn in that it was covered in dried blood. I put them near the top of all my things so I could reach them easily. I couldn’t aim for all the love in a mother’s kiss, but I knew how to stab things.
* * * * *
Holster, Fishhooks, and I stepped through the gates of Chard and were met by the smell of rusting metal and mildew. The slanted space between the town’s entrance and where its buildings started had turned into a stagnant pool, and water sloshed around our feet as we made our way forward. This place had had no windows, so what dull light was able to penetrate the cloud cover died long before hitting the town’s back walls. The machines that had once run here had been dismantled and, with the addition of lots of scrap metal, turned into makeshift buildings for the ponies who now lived here. The sound of dripping echoed through the air.
“Why do ponies even live in this place?” Fishhooks muttered as we made our way past a freezer-turned-outhouse. I was surprised the reek wasn’t stronger.
“Any shelter’s better than none, I guess,” Holster replied. As he spoke a turquoise buck trotted out of the walk-in refrigerator and gave us a dirty look. “Though it’d be best if we get what we need and skedaddle.” Boss had sent us in to get supplies while the rest of the caravan waited outside. Apparently the ponies of Chard did not take kindly to slavers.
There is hope yet.
We stopped in front of the largest of the metal structures. A sign was bolted to its top: Hop’s Trough. The building faced the town’s entrance with sad-eyed holes for windows and a door that had been welded together from so many different scraps it looked like a quilted spider’s web. I saw why it needed so much repairing when a drunken purple mare with a turnip Cutie Mark slammed it open and staggered out onto the muddy street. A tall silver stallion with a copper mustache emerged after, glaring at her. A rag hung around his neck, and as the mare wandered away he turned to our group. He took us in, his glare intensifing, and then slammed the door shut again before any of us could react. I frowned at that. Why had he—? I glanced at the wall by the door and got my answer. A faded poster hung there.
WANTED:
All Slavers, Raiders, and Propagators thereof.
Reward per Proven Pony: 100 Caps.
Notorious Perpetrators: 500 Caps.
Bring all Accused and all Pertinent Evidence before Iron Mallet,
High Justice of New Canterlot
I suddenly felt very cold. We were wanted? I’m not sure what else I expected to happen to ponies doing such horrible things, but it hadn’t occurred to me that we might be actively hunted—and we’d just waltzed right into the middle of a town! My eyes widened, and I looked around frantically. However, no pony around seemed particularly interested in us aside from that one dirty look. Beside me Holster scoffed.
“Another of these posters?” he asked, “Heh! As if anypony would want to drag anypony else that far for just that much. I swear, damn NCs put these out just to make themselves feel important. ‘Rock of the Wasteland’ my ass...” Fishhooks giggled, and I calmed a little at his words. He knew more than I did about this. If he wasn’t worried about a bounty on his head, I shouldn’t be either. At least now I knew who the ‘NCs’ were.
“We should probably split up,” Fishhooks suddenly declared.
“What?” I blinked and cleaned my ear with a hooftip to make sure I’d heard her right.
“I’ll see if anypony’s selling food,” she continued. Apparently I hadn’t spoken loud enough. “You two get gun parts and whatever else we need, and we’ll meet up back here.” She pointed to the ground we stood on. “Oh, and we need to re-stock on Buck and Dash.”
“I’ll get the weapons,” Holster said before I could interrupt to point out how bad of an idea this was, “you get the drugs.” He nodded in my direction, smiling at a joke I didn’t get.
“But, um, uh...” I wanted to stay in a group. I wanted to say how much safer that would make us, but I found myself at a loss for words. They were giving me confused looks. “I’ll... go do that,” I said hurriedly. I gave them an awkward smile and trotted off down a side-street, hoping I was going the right way and that Holster’s confidence was well founded. But most of all I hoped that I hadn’t given them any reason to suspect me. Apparently I was supposed to know how and where to get these ‘drugs.’ Bad medicine. Maybe that’s what the ‘Booster’ had been? Yes. For some reason I had an urge to roll my eyes.
* * * * *
I wandered around the town, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. This place was a maze. The streets snaked around clumps of metal shacks, and walls rose randomly to block my path. A few times I had to duck through pitch-black hallways just to get by piles of debris nopony had bothered to clear away. I got a few odd looks from ponies I passed, though I wasn’t sure why. Did slavers have a look about them? I picked up my pace a bit. I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. I needed to find some other pony to impersonate. Someone... better. Not from here, though; not now. I still needed to get an understanding of this Wasteland I had found myself in.
Finally, I stumbled upon what looked like a marketplace; ponies sat in several stalls on either side of a large clearing, hawking their wares. Now... what was it I needed again? Oh, right. Dash and Buck. I had no idea what those were, exactly, but at least I knew what to ask for.
“Dash? Nope, ain’t never had none o’ that. I got some damn fine helmets, though. Just got ‘em straight from Bulb! Got a top armorist up there, they do. You want one? Only a hundred caps!”
“Buck? Only buck I’ve got is one t’ feed, so unless yer interested in magic tomes ah’d kindly ask ya’ t’ stop wasting mah precious time.”
“Drugs? Hell no. I only deal in healing potions and protection talismans. Feed your habit elsewhere.”
I was almost at the back of the facility when I found what I was looking for.
Berry Wares:
For all your medicinal needs!
The sign was painted white, with a winking purple mare leaning over the word ‘Wares.’ She clasped a bottle in her left hoof, and was holding it out suggestively toward the viewer. The sign hung over a stall, painted with the same shade of purple, but pink Xs criss-crossed the whole of it. The design was faded but still managed to stand out from the drab colors around it. It also helped that it was the only ‘building’ I’d seen so far with any sort of lighting. A single bulb hung from the ceiling—which was also the underside of a half-melted second floor—powered by a small generator on the ground. A bored-looking buck with yellow hair sat in the spotlight, and he glanced up at me as I trotted over.
I noticed a small sign propped up on the table. “Wasteland Survival Guides sold here!” it read. My eyebrows shot up at that, and the vendor noticed. He immediately perked up, grinning at me.
“Howdy, stranger. Y’all interested in a Survival Guide?” he asked.
“Oh yes. How much?” I replied a bit too earnestly, but I was lost and confused in this new world, how could I refuse an entire book full of information about it? This would get me much farther ahead in life.
“Three hundred caps.” He said with finality.
“Three hundred?” Of course, right now I was still pretty far behind everyone else. By now I’d figured out what ponies used all these bottle caps for, but I had no idea if that was a fair price. “I don’t think I have that much on me.” Plus, I still needed to get those drugs.
“Hmm...” The vendor tapped a hoof against his chin, still smiling. “Well, I s’ppose I could take that there rifle off yer hands instead.” He motioned to the gun on my back. “If you don’t mind tradin’ firepower fer a bit o’ knowledge, that is.”
“Deal.” I didn’t hesitate. The ‘rifle’ wasn’t much use to me now anyway. I unstrapped the gun from my back and gave it to him. He took it eagerly, and handed me a grey tome with a black skull below the title. That seemed like a pretty misleading cover for something designed to help you. I resisted the urge to sit down and read through it right then and there, and put it in my saddlebags.
“Pleasure doin’ business with ya’,” the vendor drawled, “anything else ah c’n help ya’ with?” He seemed a little too happy now, and I realized I had probably gotten ripped off. Oh well. Losing one gun wasn’t that big of a deal. I could always get more if I needed them.
“Yes," I replied, “I need some drugs.”
“Drugs? Well, ya’ come to the right place fer that, mah friend, medicine’s our specialty. Whaddaya need?”
“Buck and Dash,” I said.
“30 caps a pop. How many?”
“Uh, as much as this will get me.” I took out the sack of bottle caps and plopped it down in front of him, carefully watching his expression. He didn’t seem particularly impressed as he counted out all the caps and sorted them into small stacks. I stopped him when he got to twelve piles; apparently I was richer than I had supposed. The brown buck scooped up the caps and ducked back into the depths of the small shop, emerging with a small clear bag in his mouth. On it I saw the same mare from the sign, only this time she had been printed over a stylised “BW,” instead of the full name. It looked worn and dirtied, but inside I could see what was, presumably, the Buck and Dash: bright orange pills and faded blue inhalers, similar to the Booster Fishhooks had used.
I packed the baggy away, and then turned to leave.
“Oh, by the by,” the vender added, “them bags’s worth a five cap discount if ya’ bring ‘em back here or t’ any o’ our other locations.”
“Locations?” I looked back to him, curious. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“Sure, we got Berry Wears all over th’ Fields. I hear we’re settin’ up along th’ coast, even.”
“The... Fields?” He gave me an amused look.
“Shoot, you really ain’t from around here, are ya’? What’d ya’ just get out of a Stable er somethin’?”
“Uh, no I, um... uh—” Again I found myself tongue tied.
The buck just laughed at me before disappearing back into his store. I turned back around, feeling mocked and a bit put off, and trotted in the general direction of Hop’s Trough. What the heck did he mean by ‘Stable’? Too many questions. I felt the Survival Guide calling from my saddlebags, and wondered if I had time to read it before we set off again.
My thoughts were interrupted, however, when I noticed a stallion who had been staring at me from the edge of the marketplace. He wore an oversized hat on his head, with a pair of badly taped-up glasses sitting on his nose. Their frames were empty, and he averted his eyes the moment mine met them, but that only made him more suspicious. I glanced at his cutie mark—a firefly—as I turned down the street I’d come from, and recognized him. He was that pony who’d glared at us when we’d first entered the town. Or maybe he’d glared just at me? I realized now that he had been trying to mask his appearance with those clothes. Emphasis on trying. That’s just cute, hee, hee. I laughed, but then I grew worried. If he was trying to disguise himself that meant that Tumbleweed should have recognized him... but of course I did not. Why would he follow me? Did I have something he wanted? What would you stalk a slaver for?
The WANTED sign flashed through my mind, and I ducked into another dark hallway that looked like it might be a shortcut. The ceiling was fully intact here, and when I was halfway through it was pitch black except for a small crack of light ahead. The dark did not bother me, but the strobe that suddenly blazed to life in front of my face was another matter entirely. I stumbled back, blinded, and shielded my eyes with a hoof. What was making that light?
“Finally gotcha.” I heard a voice. Then something hit me in the chest, hard, and knocked me to the ground. I gasped for breath as my vision finally faded from red to the sight of metal. “You finally ready to pay up, Tumbleweed?”
I looked up at what—no, who—had pushed me down. It was the same stallion, his disguise discarded. The ball of light that had blinded me sat atop his head, pulsing like a beating heart. It obscured all his features, and made the hallway look eerily bleached. A gun like the one Boss had floated at his side. It was aimed at me.
“W-what are you talking about?” I tried to get back up, but he pressed a hoof into my chest and forced me against the ground.
“Don’t play dumb with me, dumbfuck,” he snapped. Now the gun was pressed to my forehead. I felt my heart pound in my ears as he continued on. “You don’t steal from Garlic and get away with it. Now, are you gunna pay us back or are we gunna have to chain you up and work you half to death? Or maybe I should drag your ass up to those bastards in New Canterlot? You know I’d love to see another Celestia-dammed slaver at the end of a noose.”
“I don—” I gasped for air as he pressed down harder.
“‘Course, I could just kill you now and save us all that trouble, but then we’d lose all that time and effort, and that’s just bad business. So what’s it gunna be, Tumblefuck?” He pressed the gun into my skull. It was so hard to breath. I tried to struggle with all my might but he was too strong. “You gunna pay up?” I tried to hit him, but I couldn’t reach anything sensitive. “Or am I gunna have to splatter your brains all over the ground?” I felt the cold metal of his gun push my head back, and I caught a devilish smile on his face. He was enjoying this. I choked out a sob as I realized that he had no intention of letting me ‘pay up.’ He wanted to kill me. He was going to kill me. I was going to die.
No!
I was going to die.
Fight!
Green magic flared over me and my pain was washed away along with the features of Tumbleweed. I shrunk back to my original size, causing the stallion above me to lose his balance and giving me enough room to roll onto my feet. A gunshot roared in my ear, and the world become a single sharp tone, but I felt no other pain. I was on all fours now. My attacker was still hidden behind his light, but I didn’t need to see details. I lunged at him, hurt and fear driving me forward
Run...
I saw his mouth move, but I could hear nothing. Then I was on him, knocking him over and wrapping my forelegs around his neck. Without a thought or pause I opened my mouth and sunk my fangs into his hide. I heard a muted cry of pain as my jaw closed around his neck. I felt skin split and vertebrae part between my teeth as I sunk them in. He had only a second to struggle before falling limp. The light on his horn flickered. I squeezed his neck tighter, and heard something crunch. The light began to fade, and I held him down until it died.
I let go, the foul taste of blood and hair in my mouth, and recoiled from his body. I was alone in utter darkness, all my tasks and plans forgotten. What had just happened? I had— I had...
Murder.
I had killed a pony. I had done it without a second thought. I shuddered. I hadn’t wanted to kill him, really, I had just wanted him to stop. I—
“I heard it come from other there!” The voice came from behind me. I re-disguised myself without thinking, and turned to see who had shouted. Two ponies, their features shrouded in the darkness, were coming this way.
“Di’ja see that? Who’s there!?”
Dammit. They had seen that burst of magic. I scampered away, down to the hallway’s other exit, but I had made too much noise.
“Hey! Get back here!” I broke into a gallop. Only a few more yards.
“Oh shit—Bright Lights? Oh shit oh shit—”
“You mother fucker!” I heard one gallop after me, and I emerged from the hallway into a neighborhood of metal huts. I recognized this place. I knew how to get back from here, but first—
I stepped behind one of the bigger shacks a moment before I heard my pursuer break into the open. He called out for me again, and I heard a few others tell him where I had gone. I fell to the ground just as he jumped into view.
“I’ll kill you fu—Boysenberry?” he came to a sudden halt.
I looked slowly up at him from where I lay, now disguised as the mare I had seen stumbling out of Hop’s Trough. “What?” I tried to slur the word, but wasn’t successful.
“Fucking—Boysen, did you see somepony run through here?”
“Uh, yeah.” I lifted a hoof and pointed to the only other way out from behind the hut. “He went that way.”
That doesn’t sound drunk at all.
He took off without another word, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I waited until I could no longer hear his hooffalls, and then trotted out from where I was hidden, re-donning my disguise as Tumbleweed. The few ponies milling about didn’t react to my presence, but as I walked anxiously toward the meeting place, I thought I could hear the echoes of somepony shouting.
By the time I slipped into the open space in front of the Trough that echo had grown into a reverberating chorus, and a mob was forming in front of the building. Holster and Fishhooks were already backing toward the exit, and as soon as they saw me making a break for the it they joined me in a sprint. It was only sheer luck that stayed the guard’s aims as we dashed out of the facility-turned-town. Boss had the caravan moving the moment he saw us, and Hairpins laid down covering fire as we sped away in an odd mirror to the earlier raider attack.
* * * * *
“What the hell happened back there?” Boss demanded. He glared down at me. I could feel the stares of everypony else around me, silently asking the same question.
“I...” I had killed a pony. I had almost been killed. My mind was reeling, but I couldn't allow myself to break down. I had to act the part. I had to be Tumbleweed. I couldn’t get caught now. I had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. “I was attacked.”
“That all?” I blinked in surprise. That all? Were violent assaults in dark alleys that common?
“I-I killed him...” I hung my head.
“Well no shit,” he said, his voice full of sarcasm, “I mean is that all you did or did you also kill their mayor too? Because normally ponies don't form lynch mobs over one jackass getting what for when he picks a fight he can't handle."
"Well, I, um—"
"Ugh, nevermind.” He muttered in frustration, “You save an entire damn town from raiders and then they shoot at you ‘cuz of one fucking idiot. Bunch of fucking ingrates..." He sighed deeply, as if venting his frustration into the air, and we started off again. I slunk back to my spot beside Hairpins, feeling tense. I was still waiting for some sort of repercussion for my actions. None came, and Hairpins quickly resumed recounting her endless anecdotes.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t focus on her voice; the scene in that alley keep repeating in my mind. I could still feel Bright Light’s neck snapping between my jaws. I could still taste the blood in my mouth.
* * * * *
The dreary greyness that was the sky slowly grew dark, and now night was clawing its way into the horizon. Already it was impossible to make out anything in the distance but a single shadow off to the side of the road that turned out to be a house. It was constructed from wood held together with strips of metal that had been nailed all over it, giving it the appearance of having stripes. We approached the place cautiously, and, after Boss, his horn glowing softly, and a few others “checked it out,” we herded the exhausted slaves in, barricading them into a side room with the bottom half of a broken table and two chairs.
“I’ll take the first guard shift. I’ll wake you up in two or so,” Boss said to me. He set himself near the room holding the slaves, and I wandered off with the others to find a place to sleep.
The house was two stories, with the bottom floor consisting of three rooms: a central area that would have been divided in half had the wall in the middle not been knocked down, a bathroom that smelt of fermenting urine, and the bedroom we had stuffed the slaves into. I didn't bother to investigate the top floor, I was too tired. Instead, I curled up in a dark corner away from the rest of the ponies. They had sat down in a small circle, and though they probably thought my separation from them odd, I wanted to sleep alone.
By now it was almost completely dark, and a faint pitter-patter began to sound over the house. It grew into a steady muted chorus, and I was frightened by the sudden noise until I realized what it was. Rain.
As I drifted off, I started thinking about everything that had happened to me. I’d I’d had a rough first day of being alive. I’d watched three ponies die gruesomely. I’d seen a dozen more mowed down in seconds, and then I’d helped loot their bodies. I’d participated in slavery. I’d killed a pony. I shuddered, a black feeling twisting in my gut.
But worst of all I hadn’t found love, and I still had no idea where I could.
Outside, the rain picked up, turning from a distant murmur into a dull roar. The quiet darkness around me suddenly felt very comfortable. It reminded me of my egg: closed and warm, untouched by the world. I didn’t want to step outside and face the light of day anymore. I was scared of the ponies laying a few feet from me. I feared that when I next awoke a thousand terrible things would be at my side, waiting to engulf me. I hoped, no, prayed, that today’s travesties had been a fluke. Things couldn’t be this bad all the time, right? There was no way the Wasteland could sustain itself on such horror.
It was not weariness but another bout of dizziness that finally pushed me from silent panic into unconsciousness.
...oooOOO===OOOooo...
I was running. Running as fast as I could move my legs, yet my feet made no sound on the pure white ground. The only sound I heard was my panting as I ran. I was running from someone, but I could not remember who. A shadow passed over me, and I looked up. The sun blinded me—
I sat on a cold steel floor. Bars in front of me. I couldn’t get past them, why did they bother with these chains? One of the guards swooped down in front of me. His eyes glowed bright; brighter, until—
I was falling. Down and down, careening toward the earth. Dodge. Dodge. Something whizzed by my ear. Something else cut through me, and me hind leg erupted into pain. I steered myself up, toward the mountain range in the distance. It grew closer. The wind scrapped at my wounds, and my vision blurred with tears. I squeezed my eyes shut—
Three bullets struck my left wing, shredding it, and I fell. I tried to slow myself, but I was in too much pain and too injured. I hit the side of the mountain hard, bouncing down and flailing my arms. I caught hold of something and slowed myself. Everything hurt. I lifted my head. Salvation greeted me; there was a cave only a few flaps away. Another bullet pinged off a boulder nearby. I tried to stand, but my hind legs did not respond. I dragged myself forward. Closer. Closer. Another bullet struck my shoulder, splintering with bone. The agony blinded me—
I had to sleep now.
Feed.
I had to die.
Feed.
I had to live.
Feed.
I had to—
...oooOOO===OOOooo...
“—get up.”
My eyes snapped open at the touch of a hoof to my side. My heart thumped rapidly in my chest. I saw Boss above me, the glow from his horn replaced with a lamp at his side. It shone a faint yellow, powered by a collection of tiny nodes that reminded me of the lightning bugs on Bright Light’s flank. How comforting.
“It’s your turn.” Boss said, mouthing me the lamp. He was unsteady on his feet, and the limited lighting made the shadows under his eyes somehow darker.
“O-okay.” I took the lamp from him and walked over to sit in front of the slave room on unsteady legs. What had that dream been? Another vision? The first one had been, if not very clear, at least useful. This one had been... different. A volley of images and sensations that I had no context for. Already I was having trouble remembering all of it. Feed. Those last desperate shouts I remembered clearly, though. They sent a chill down my spine.
I peered over the makeshift barricade into the room of sleeping slaves. Most were curled up together, presumably for warmth, and, although it had stopped raining by now, I noticed that a small pool of water had formed in one of the room’s corners. I also noticed the one slave who wasn’t asleep.
“You!” he whispered fiercely and hobbled over to me. I took an automatic step back. His coat was made a sickly yellow by the light of the lamp, and he gazed at me with a crazed, triumphant look. I met him with a glare, but he ignored it.
“I saw,” he rasped.
“W-what?” Did he mean—!?
“I saw what you did with Tumbleweed. I saw you drag him away. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not a pony, and you’re not Tumbleweed, and unless you bust us out right now, I’ll tell every one of your ‘friends’ about what you did to that fucker.”
Oh no. Oh no no no. This was bad. Terrible! This was the worst thing that could have happened! This—is the perfect opportunity, you dolt.
—what? Opportunity?
I couldn’t hide my panic from him, and he became more insistent. “Move the table,” he demanded, “let us out of here now, or else.”
“I—”
“Do it you idiot!” he hissed. I didn’t have much choice. If I was discovered now, Boss and company would tear me to shreds. Or just Boss, really.
As quietly as I could, I removed the table and chairs from the doorway, though they hadn’t been much of a barrier to begin with. Just something to make noise in case the slaves had decided to try and rush us. I finished, and both the buck and I glanced nervously back at the central room. The light from my lamp did not extend far, but none of the slavers looked like they had been awoken.
By now, a slave mare who must also have been awake had noticed what I was doing and was quietly rousing the others. A few made questioning noises, but she and the stallion, who was now standing threateningly next to me, shushed them before they could give us away. As the last few were being nudged awake, another pair of mares stepped toward us.
“A-are we really gettin’ out? I-is this for real?” I saw the hope in their eyes, and felt the edge of the gratitude they were directing toward the stallion who had coerced me. Then I got it.
This was the opportunity. I really was an idiot for not thinking of this earlier.
“Yes,” I said, sliding in front of the haggard buck before he could say anything more, “I’m busting all of you out.” I smiled as confidently as I could, and their faces lit up. I felt their hope bubble up into profound relief and happiness, and their gratitude washed over me. My smile grew genuine as I drank deeply from their emotions. I felt strength I didn’t know I’d lost slowly return to me. The rest quickly joined them from behind, and as I lead them forward their outpouring grew greater. We tip-toed around the rough circle of sleeping slavers—an easy feat, considering how much space this place had—and I held the door open as the small group swept past me. Oh, this was magnificent. Their excitement sent electricity through my veins.
However, I then noticed the yellow buck was not among us. Where had—? My eyes went wide when I saw what he was doing. He was leaning over the snoring form of Holster, his muzzle ruffling through the slaver’s saddlebag. What was he doing? He was going to get caught! I watched, tense, as he pulled something out and slowly crept back to us. Holster didn’t stir.
“What were you doing?” I hissed after I’d eased the door shut behind him.
“In case you didn’t notice, we’ve got these here bombs strapped t’our necks.” He hefted what he’d stolen in front of my face. Even with the lamp right next to it I could barely make it out. It was a metallic cylinder with a large rectangle of... plastic? Glass? I couldn’t tell. Screen. Oh yes, that was the word for it. A rectangular screen. I couldn’t make out any other details before he swept it back down and latched it around his foreleg. “Seein’ as they’re not carryin’ any obvious trigger, I figured the control for our collars are on their PipBucks.”
He pressed something on its side, and the device—or PipBuck, I guess it was called—shone with light. The buck smiled, and after a few more taps on the screen all the former slaves’ collars fell of with a collective hiss-THUNK.
Ever since we had exited the door, our small mob had been moving steadily away from the striped house, but the moment the collars were off the reality of the ponies’ freedom hit them hard, and they bolted—in small groups and pairs—off, either back toward Chard or in the direction we had been heading before nightfall. All except the yellow buck.
He, having kicked his collar away, now examined me in the near-complete darkness. By the glow of his PipBuck I could tell he wasn’t smiling anymore, and his eyes held an ominous glint.
“Y’know,” he began. His voice was low, very different from the desperate whisper it had been a moment ago. “There’s a neat little feature on all these PipBucks called an EFS. You know what that stands for you... whatever you are?”
“No.” I suddenly felt the weight of the knives in my saddlebag. He had seen me copy Tumbleweed. He may not know what a Changeling was, but he knew what I could do, and I didn’t imagine that set him at ease.
“Eyes-Forward Sparkle. It’s a nifty little thing that tells me what everypony thinks of me—that is, whether they want to kill me or not. It does this by marking them with color. Usually there’s two basic colors, one for hostile, red, and one for... what’s the word? Oh yeah, docile. That one’s color varies depending on the model. Some show blue, some show yellow, and some show green—like this one here. And, heh, that’s pretty convenient for me, ‘cuz when I first heard of PipBucks, I learned a cute little saying that goes along with that color. You wanna know what it is?”
While he talked he had started circling me slowly, his disheveled and dirty hair made somehow ominous by the poor lighting from his leg. He had stopped now, having walked half way around, and stood facing me. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Sure...”
“Green: They’re clean. Red: They’re dead. Guess what color you are.” He didn’t give me time to.
Before I could react, he lunged at me, bringing his PipBuck-wearing foreleg down upon my head. I ducked as he moved, and the blow missed, but in the next instant I felt the air knocked from my lungs as both his hind legs slammed into me. I didn’t have time to wonder how an exhausted slave could possibly move that fast as his buck sent me sprawling back onto a chunk of asphalt that had decided to weather the post-apocalypse just long enough to make me howl in pain as my flank I landed on it. I rolled back up, shaky on my feet, and took the opportunity to draw one of the blades from my saddlebag, expecting him to be on me.
But he hadn't followed up on his attack. He stood where he had been, grinning triumphantly. His hoof hovered over the PipBuck’s shining screen.
DOWN!
I looked down. There, at my feet, was one of the explosive collars.
I kicked it away a moment before it—along with every other one the slaves had been wearing—exploded. Their combined shockwave sent me stumbling back, forward, and then sprawling onto the ground. I struggled quickly back up, but a throbbing pain in my right foreleg meant I could only stand on three feet. Luckily my armor seemed to have absorbed most of the shrapnel from behind.
I didn’t wait for the buck to attack again. I threw myself blindly at where I thought he would come from, and was rewarded with an “oof!” sound as I rammed my shoulder into his torso. I managed to keep my balance, and, forgetting I still had the teeth of an herbivor, I lunged downward and chomped ineffectively on his neck.
“Ack! Get off you fuckin’ freaky body snatchin’—”
We struggled awkwardly for a second before I had the brilliant idea of slamming his head against the ground. I couldn’t lift him very far up, so the blow didn’t knock him out, but it was enough to stun him. I limped away from our now-charred battleground into the safety of darkness just as one of the slavers emerged to investigate the explosion.
“What th’ hell’s goin’ on? Tumble? Ya’ out here? Tumble?” Hairpin’s voice. It was filled with concern.
* * * * *
I stopped when the pain in my hoof grew too great to ignore anymore. I checked over my shoulder to make sure I hadn't been followed. Nothing but darkness. Hairpin’s confused shouts had died away a long time ago. I would have smiled, but my hoof was still on fire. I couldn’t see how hurt I was, but I didn’t dare try and walk on it. I groaned in pain and frustration. Now what?
Medicine.
Oh right. I had those healing potions. I took one out and popped the top off. Now... I guess I had to put it on the wound? I carefully took it into my mouth and tilted my head. The liquid stung when it hit, but I could feel my hoof quickly growing. It was uncomfortable, like worms wriggling up from my bone and flattening themselves out to become surface flesh. I shuddered after the sensation faded and then felt around where the wound had been. It seemed whole again, and I lowered it to the ground. No pain. Good.
Now... well, now there wasn’t much else to do but find more love. And avoid slavers. Definitely avoid slavers.
You’re an idiot.
Well, at least avoid slavers who were also unicorns with gravity magic. Too much risk for too little gain. The gratitude of freed slaves was energizing, but I doubted I could live off it. Unless slave caravans were abundant around here I’d need to find a more reliable source of food in order to survive, like a safe town, or a stable relationship. Those shouldn’t be too hard to find.
Right?
Footnote: Level up.
New Perk: Biter - Unarmed critical hits are 10% more likely. +5 to Unarmed.
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this is a first, never seen a changeling as the protagonist in a FoE story so im definitely watching this
Interesting...
Obligatory "because we needed another one" comment here.
fluttershy.pl/moon/src/1359726938363.jpeg
Definitely an interesting premise. I will be following this one.
I'm gona watch this just to see if you can make your main character a hero or not. Or were you planing to write a story from a villians point of veiw?
Very orginal, I wanted to write something like this. I look forward to more.
2212217
Stay tuned and find out.
Changeling in the wasteland..... Freaking love it. Just sayin.
But anyways, onto more "professional" praises. The writing is nice and fluid and I really enjoy the mystery element given to it from not only the fact that he's the only changeling he knows but the voice that talks to him as well.
I can't wait to see how it develops further, especially with the pip buck being able to ferret out a changeling's intentions when they are under the guise of another pony.
Keep up the great work!
Hmm another fallout equestria with changeling as main hero huh
but i need to say that one is quite well written. At least something what resemble real fallout world fell not like rest of fics what is totally based on bethecrap failout and throw everything in without good introduction first.
2229150
Uh, it's not taking place after FO:E. The sky's still completely covered. I made very sure to point that out.
Wait wait wait... New Canterlot? I mean, unless you mean this is post-pip with the New Canterlot Republic... but then you also mention Red Eye as if he's still around.
Doesn't make any sense to me. I mean, I know that the sky is all cloud covered and you said that to Regolit, but yeah, that's a (semi) big matter of confusion that personally, I think you should've tried to avoid.
New Canterlot is a canon group spawned from the end of the original, so you understand the issue here, yeah?
Oh fucking brutal killing with the fangs, I like it! Mind you, this is coming from someone who happily writes about a manticore eating ponies in defence of her master, so I don't know if its a good thing to listen to me.
The fact that our protagonist was supposedly red on the PipBuck confuses me, but hey, the pony could've been lying. Still, such are things.
Definitely a good read so far!
Sorry it took so long to continue onto ch2, but here we go.
I'm liking how this is going so far. The fights in this chapter seemed smoother to me than the taintigator fight did, so kudos on that, and the speech is well done and not awkwardly forced in. I think I may have liked to see some more interaction with the slavers, but it makes sense for...I need to think of a name for this changeling so I don't just say the protagonist all the time... makes sense for protagonist to get away from the slavers as soon as the option came up, so well done on that.
It seems like my hereditary memory thing is shot and gone, but I still like that we're getting small bits of the past from his dreams in a way that doesn't give all of it away right off the bat, but doesn't make it so cryptic and confusing that we don't understand the general idea of what's happening.
Very well done so far.
I bite your shit! I am a Biter!
I am loving so far. That isnt a good thing. Pretty soon Im gonna be done and then begins the long wait for all the stories Im reading to update. I think I need help with this addiction.
Already forgot how brutal FoE is.
Definitely something different than the sugarcoated fics I've been living off till now!