As a raider, I've done my fair share of bad things. Maybe after this last job, I can stop for good. (Based on Fallout: Equestria by Kkat.)
Jet's a raider. He's killed more people than the average wastelander and he's proud of it. After a raid on Stable 6, though, he decides to do one last job before he retires from killing for good. But this last job just might kill him if he's not careful.
Rated Mature for blood, gore, strong language and violence. Based on Chapters 1, 4 and 6 of Fallout: Equestria - Burning Earth.
Of course, not many people are nice out here in the Wasteland. But I'm not only not nice. I'm kind of an asshole. I kill people, steal things and do drugs on a daily basis.
Take, for example, the fact that I went on a raid the other day. This little bunker called Stable 6.
You see, we had happened to be camping in front of the place the other day. Me and my raider buddies were talking and laughing, tallying up how many ponies we'd killed. That's when we began to hear noises on the other side of the Stable door. Cheering noises. Curious, we picked up our guns and stood next to the door, trying to make out what the ponies inside were saying.
Without warning, the door began to screech open. We backed up, surprised by this. That's when an idea began to form in our ranks. My friend, a fellow earth pony named Ripper, looked at me and grinned.
"Let's kill 'em," he said.
I smiled right back at him. He knew me well; I was always down to let off some steam and fire a few rounds off. Nothing like adding a few notches to my rifle. At last count, I had forty-seven and Ripper had fifty-one (Coincidentally, we were running out of space to cut notches). Maybe now was my chance to get ahead of him.
"I'm up for anything," I told him. To the rest, I shouted, "Fresh meat! Who's ready to get some blood on their hooves?"
A few other raiders cheered in anticipation. "Hell yeah!" shouted a unicorn raider named Knife (In case you haven't noticed, we happen to have rather creative names. Some of us named ourselves).
The door rolled open, and several hundred ponies in blue stared at us in confusion. Not wanting to delay the massacre, I opened fire on the crowd. The screams were louder than anything I had ever heard as the masses turned around and poured back into the Stable. Several of the ponies were sprawled dead on the ground. I counted six, which put me at fifty-three.
"Better keep up with me, Ripper!" I shouted, charging into the Stable after my soon-to-be victims. However, almost as soon as I had, I heard the pop of small gunfire. I sidestepped, panning my eyes to search for the assailant. It was a Stable pony in the corner of the entrance, dressed in guard armor that did little to stop the hail of gunfire I sent his way.
I sprinted past the growing pile of corpses, firing round after round at the Stable ponies. Two more dead. They fled like cattle to the atrium, with little to no defense against me and my pals. Soon, dozens of them fell. I felt the adrenaline rush normally accompanied with mass slaughter. Boy, I hadn't ever killed so many people in one sitting before in my life! There was something satisfying about watching a unicorn's horn skitter across the floor after you've shot it off its owner.
Ripper trotted up to me, firing away at our prey. "I've got seventy, Jet!" he said over the shouting and shooting. Other raiders moved past us, armed with bats and blades.
"Seventy-four!" I called back. Catching the first few by surprise had given me just the head start I needed. I realized that the ponies were now splitting up, seeking refuge in the numerous bedrooms and restrooms throughout the Stable. "They've split! You go after those ones, I'll get these."
Following after the Stable ponies, I found one of my raider companions in their wake. His body was trampled beneath the crowd's hooves, and he was bleeding from a gunshot wound in his chest. I was in the middle of stepping over him when I heard him groan.
"Jet..."
I looked back at the poor sap, only then realizing that it was Knife. "Yeah?" I barked back harshly. I had ponies to kill, and this asshole was slowing me down.
"Please, you... you gotta help me. D-do you have any Med-X?"
I knelt down beside my dying companion, looking him in the eye. "No, but I've got something else for ya."
"Please. Anything!"
I bit down on my battle saddle's trigger. Knife's head exploded in a shower of blood and brain matter. Seventy-five. "Fuckin' junkie. You deserved it." Not wanting to waste any more time, I hurried down the corridor to catch the remainder of the Stable ponies.
Much later, I was sitting beside Stable 6's gear-shaped door and standing guard with a few others. There were piles of bodies on the ground, most of which I had killed. I even tallied it up: I was at 142. A few of my other raider buddies had taken their fair share, but none had as many as I did.
Except for Ripper, maybe. As soon as we'd taken out the last few, we would compare kills. Until then, I just had to make sure none escaped.
Some old Stable stallion sprinted out from behind a box, but I cut him down with a burst from my assault rifle. "Got one!"
Another raider, whose name I couldn't remember, looked at me in irritation. "Ah, give it a fuckin' rest, Jet. We're not keepin' score, ya don't have to brag."
At that moment, Ripper trotted in. "Hey guys! They've got hundreds of Sparkle-Cola crates! We're gonna live like princes!"
My eyes widened. Sparkle-Cola was one of the best beverages in Equestria. Sure, it was just flat soda, but it had a taste that rivaled the greatest booze, the most perfect Mint-Al or even those tasty wasteland omelettes that some fellas made. "Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "We've gotta get some of that!"
I trotted after Ripper, but he put a hoof on my shoulder. "Not yet, Jet," he said. "You gotta keep watch."
Damn it. I really wanted some of that. But there would still be plenty waiting for me when we blew this joint. As the other raiders walked out to celebrate their find, I moved over to a nearby box and sat upon it, grumbling to myself. I wondered what Ripper's count was up to. Surely he couldn't have bested me, could he?
I looked up just in time to see a mare, no older than sixteen, stand up from underneath a corpse pile. She hadn't seen me yet. I raised my rifle, lining the sights up with her head. But I hesitated.
What did one more kill matter, anyway? I had killed plenty today. Something inside me told me that it just wasn't worth it. Yeah, I'd murdered fillies before. Done a lot worse to them, in fact. But I realized that she was the last surviving resident of this place. There was a good chance that I alone had killed her family.
Not long afterwards, Me, Ripper and our friends were making our way out of Stable 6. As it turned out, me and him were neck and neck at 143 kills apiece. I was disappointed that I hadn't taken the lead, but I didn't regret letting that filly go, even though it would've put me ahead.
We didn't know where to go next, so I consulted the map, which was just a makeshift drawing on a piece of torn paper. We were just outside of Ponyville and slightly northwest of New Appleloosa (who absolutely despised ponies like us). I didn't think that we should be stupid enough to attack Appleloosa, and Ponyville was a deathtrap. I stared at the map for a few minutes.
"Are you stoned or something? Get outta the way," said Ripper as he shoved me aside and looked at the map. "I say that we make a run through that one-horse town, Ponyville or whatever." He pointed to it on the map.
"You crazy, Ripper?" asked a bandit next to him.
"Ponyville's not our turf," I said. "Those Bloodletters own the place, what with all the landmines and shit."
Ripper flashed his trademark psychotic grin. "You think I don't know that? We're gonna get in, take their supplies, and get out. Simple as that."
"You make it sound too simple," said the bandit again. "They've got some high-caliber weapons, Ripper. It's suicide going in there." He gestured to me. "Jet's got the best gun outta all of us, and it's just a flimsy rifle! They have sniper rifles and shotguns."
"Ah, but we'll have something they won't." Ripper's eyes flashed with greedy eagerness. "The element of surprise."
Ripper was the thinker in our group, usually, so it was only natural that he come up with the plan to attack Ponyville. We set up a bonfire just outside Stable 6 and ate some apples and mystery meat. As we started to crack open a few of the bottles of Sparkle-Cola we had taken, we discussed our attack strategy.
"I've been in Ponyville before a couple times," Ripper began, "and I've seen enough to know where they keep the majority of their loot. Their food and caps are stored in this old building in the center of town. The place is shaped like a giant fucking cupcake or something, so you'd have to be an idiot to miss it."
"Whaddya reckon they've got?" said Duster, a raider with dull-brown eyes and an equally dull coat. His cutie mark was a bloodstain... or was that actually a wound? "How much, I mean."
"I reckon a couple hundred caps," replied Ripper. "And a few dozen pounds of food and water. Pretty big take."
"How are we splittin' the money?" asked Duster. "There's seven of us now, since Knife got killed in the raid."
Ripper raised an eyebrow. "So that's where that punk went. Good riddance, I say. Anyways, we'll be splitting it pretty even between us, but I'm getting a bigger cut 'cause I came up with the plan."
Finally, I chimed in. "Anyone can come up with a half-brain plan. Even you, Ripper." Me and him went way back, so he usually didn't take too much offense when I poked fun at him and his plans. It was just what we did.
"You haven't even heard it yet, you dumbass!" Ripper growled. "We're going in groups. Two groups of two and one group of three are gonna surround the town. When I give the signal, we charge in, get the goods and stomp anyone in our way."
"Who's goin' with who?" Duster said.
"Shanks and Fillet are going with Gorehead. I'll go with Rock Smasher. That leaves you with Jet."
He cursed. "Screw you, Ripper. I wanted to be in the group of three."
I sighed. Duster didn't like me very much. Maybe it was because I counted my kills, or because I was better in a gunfight than him. Either way, he held a grudge. "At least you're working with me, though." I took a swig of my cola.
Duster scoffed. "Yeah. Like that's somethin' to celebrate."
At that moment, we heard a light thump on the ground not far from us. Instantly, I tensed my muscles. "The hell was that?" I hissed.
"Go check it out," said Ripper. "Maybe it's a bloatsprite or something."
I nodded and trotted off in the direction of the sound. Secretly, I wondered if it was the mare I had let go back in Stable 6. Sure, it was unlikely, but there was always a chance. As I looked around the area, though, I quickly dashed that thought away. There was nopony there.
As I turned around to head back, my hoof caught a burlap bag on the ground. I heard a faint jingling emanate from it. Curious, I lowered my head and poked at it with my snout.
The bag was teeming with bottle caps.
Now, after all the counting I did on a regular basis, I was getting pretty good at crunching numbers. After some careful examination, I estimated the bag to have at least 300 caps in it! How had it ended up here? It was like Celestia had left this gift here, just for me.
"Jet? You find anything?"
I slipped the caps into my saddlebag and called back, "Nope! Must've been a crow or something!" I wasn't the best liar, but they hopefully had no reason to doubt me. As I trotted back, I picked up my Sparkle-Cola and downed the rest of it. "Goddamned birds are everywhere."
Duster gave me a strange look. "You didn't find anything at all?"
I nodded. "Not a thing. You can take a look for yourself, if you care so much."
We decided that mid-afternoon would be the best time to begin the raid, as they would be expecting it to be at night. Ripper still insisted that he get a majority of the cut since he planned it, and I decided that I didn't much care. After all, I was planning on ditching these guys after this last raid.
I had come to that decision after finding the caps. 300 could set me for life, if I decided to settle down. I know, it sounds weird, but some of us raiders eventually did settle down over the years. A violent, volatile lifestyle couldn't support itself forever. The reason I wanted to leave after the raid was to avoid attracting suspicion. Who would turn down a heist like this, anyways?
We prepared the best way we knew how; after drinking a few Sparkle-Colas, we used the empty bottles for target practice. Since we were working together and all, Duster and I talked a bit as we took potshots at the targets.
"How long do you plan on doing this raider stuff?" I happened to ask during our conversation.
He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I'm gonna do this shit for as long as I can. Who wants to be tied down to the rules of society when doing whatever the fuck you want is so much more fun?" He fired his revolver at a bottle, shattering it into dozens of pieces. "You planning on leaving after this last score?"
I looked down at the ground. It's like he knew what I was thinking. "I think this raider business will get me killed sooner or later. I know it sounds kinda stupid, but I want to live a long life."
Duster spat. "Shoulda thought of that before you decided to murder ponies for a living. If ya can't handle the heat, stay outta the campfire."
"That's what I'm planning to do." I fired a quick burst from my rifle, completely missing a bottle.
Duster lightly punched me in the shoulder with a hoof. "Looks like you're getting careless. Hate to see ya get killed out there. Oh wait - I would love to see that!" He chuckled. God, I thought I was sadistic.
"Screw off, Duster." I fired again, this time obliterating the glass container. "See? I still got it."
"Whatever you say." He trotted off, leaving me to my own devices. "Just watch your back during the raid." What he meant by that, I would never figure out. But it left me with a chill running down my spine.
Before I knew it, the morning had passed and the hour of attack was upon us. Ripper reminded everypony of the plans one last time before we split up, not to reunite again until we reached the stash.
Me and Duster ambled over to our chosen spot, just outside Ponyville's borders. We didn't talk much during the trot, instead preferring to keep our eyes and ears open for any sort of trouble. If the raid went bad, then we needed to be prepared to have an out. I took careful details of the area around us in case I needed an exit plan.
Finally, we reached a good vantage point from which to receive Ripper's signal. He said that he would fire a single bullet into the air when the raid had begun, so Duster and I decided to wait on top of a small residential building where we would hear any gunshots.
Duster made some small talk as I opened a can of beans. "I can't understand why you would ever want to stop being a raider. How will anypony accept you after what you've done in your life?"
"Easy. They'll never find out. I'd start my life over. Begin again, you know." I struggled to cut the lid open with a rusty kitchen knife.
"If you think that'll work, you're crazy. You can dress up all you like, pretend you're normal like everypony else, but you've still got the mindset of a killer. No matter what, that never leaves you. It never leaves anypony." Duster seemed like he had thought about it quite a bit.
I cracked open the beans and poured some into my mouth, not caring for manners. "I'll find a way. I just wanna stop the killing. I've killed more than a hundred ponies."
"You know what your trouble is?" Duster said. "You need to stop counting your kills. You'll only feel guilty."
I shrugged. I didn't feel like talking any more about it. I heard the faint jingle of the bottle caps in my saddlebag. And so did Duster. A look of realization flashed across his face, and he narrowed his eyebrows.
"How many caps you got in there, Jet?" he asked in a less-than-polite manner. "Sounds like a lot more than you had yesterday."
I gulped. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about, Duster."
Duster pulled his gun from his belt, pointing it at my head before I could even react. "Don't you fucking lie to me, you sack of shit! You've been hoarding caps from the rest of us!"
I raised a foreleg disarmingly. "No, you've got it all wrong! I found this fair and square. It was just lying around."
Duster put two and two together. "When you were looking for that noise the other day... A crow, my flank! You sneaky bastard." He didn't lower his gun.
I stared into his eyes. "Well? Do it. Shoot me, you damned chicken."
Before he could decide on a course of action, a gunshot rang out in the distance. The raid was on. Duster cursed and lowered the revolver.
"We'll settle this after the raid." He climbed down the side of the building, charging into the middle of town. I followed behind, grateful for Ripper's timing.
When we reached the edge of Ponyville, we saw an all-out war. Three of our companions were perched atop the wreckage of what had once been a building, seeking refuge from the Bloodletters's hail of gunfire. Gorehead had her rifle propped up against the side of the building as she took shots at the enemies. Fillet and Shanks were providing covering fire, but it was clear that they were being overrun.
"Duster! Jet! Get the hell over here and help us out!"
We rushed over, guns raised. The Bloodletters were taking cover behind a busted carriage to our right. They weren't expecting to be flanked, and before they could run, I had taken them down with a hail of bullets. That brought my count up to 146.
"Nice shot," said Duster. He sounded a bit angry that he hadn't shot them first. He called up to our companions on the roof. "You guys okay?"
Gorehead waved back. "Yeah! We're fine. We haven't seen Rock Smasher or Ripper, though. The Bloodletters's stash is up the street. But there's landmines everywhere, so watch your ass. We'll stay here and cover you."
I nodded. "Thanks." We hurried down the street, watching for any frag mines that might be hidden out of sight. The small metal discs were scattered across the road in plain sight, so we shot at them from a distance to trigger them. Once it was clear, we started to move further down the road. "I can see the place now." I pointed with my hoof at the building, which looked like it had been a sweet shop back before the megaspells landed.
"Looks like the coast is clear," said Duster. He picked up the pace, rushing to get to the stash before anypony else. "C'mon, asshole, we're nearly-" He didn't finish his sentence. A sniper rifle bullet caught the poor stallion in the foreleg, causing him to topple over and sprawl flat on the concrete.
"God damn it!" Duster cried out.
I looked ahead of us, where I caught a glance of a rifle's barrel from the second-story window of the sweet shop. I grabbed Duster by the torso and pulled him out of the gunpony's line of sight. "Stay down!" I told him as I moved him behind a dumpster for cover. I looked at the wound and winced. The bullet had dug deep into his foreleg, only stopping when it had hit the bone.
"Is it bad?" he asked, his eyes narrowed in agony.
"You'll be fine," I lied. "Just stay here."
As I darted out of cover, he raised his injured hoof. "What the fuck do you think I would do!? Get up and trot away?"
The sniper hurriedly fired at me as I sprinted for the building, but it missed me by a foot. I raised my own gun and retaliated, but he had already moved away from the window.
I charged through the doors of the shop, scanning the room. Blood and guts adorned the walls like party favors, and somepony had scrawled racial slurs on nearly every surface. Tables and chairs were strewn across the room, knocked over long ago in some confrontation or other.
A few shots whizzed over my head from the other end of the room. Two Bloodletters were firing at me with pistols from behind the counter. I ducked behind an overturned table, but not before I felt a bullet graze my side.
"Eat shit!" I peeked over the edge of the table and bit down on the battle saddle's trigger. Two more wasted. 148.
I was barreled over by another one. Before I could even react, the riflepony from the second floor was on top of me with a knife. As he brought the blade down, I caught it with my foreleg. I could feel the knife digging into my hoof, bringing fresh droplets of blood to the surface of my fur. Then my attacker raised the blade again.
I kicked out with my hind leg, knocking him down to the floor before he could slash at me again. I brought my hooves down on his head with brutal efficiency, crushing his skull. 149.
Once I had finished off the raider, I looked around. The room was completely devoid of life now, aside from myself. That must have been the last of them. Now all I had to do was look for-
"Ripper!" The stallion trotted into the shop at that moment, observing the mess I had made of the place. He looked unscathed, surprisingly. "Have you seen the others?" I asked. "They were further back down the road, last time I saw 'em."
He shook his head. "They're dead."
I felt my heart drop into my stomach. "What do you mean? They were fine just a few minutes ago..."
Ripper stomped his hoof. "Well, they're sure as shit dead now. Help me look for the stash, and we'll split it fifty-fifty."
I felt uneasy for some reason. "Okay." The two of us began to poke around the building, searching for any sign of their loot. Finally, Ripper discovered what we were searching for in a safe under the counter.
"There we are!" he said, opening the metal box and peering in at the contents.
I was ecstatic. "We did it! We're gonna be rich!"
I felt the gunshot before I heard it. The bullet punched through my throat, filling my mouth with blood and making it impossible to speak. I was stunned for a moment, but the shock was quickly replaced with searing pain. That's when I noticed the revolver in Ripper's teeth, its barrel still smoking. I collapsed on the hardwood, my blood spilling forth like a fountain from my neck. I couldn't even move or resist as my former friend began to rummage through my saddlebags.
"It's a damn shame," Ripper said. "You always were my friend. That's exactly why I'm letting you live. But stealing this big of a take, I couldn't share it with everypony. All for one, eh?" He laughed, grabbing my bag of bits and pocketing it. "I can't believe you left Duster all alone like that, just waiting for somepony to trot over and finish him off. He thought I was coming to save him, the poor asshole."
That bastard! He killed our companions! I tried to express to him my hatred, but I no longer had the ability or the energy to exercise my colorful vocabulary. I could only stare at him, my eyes emanating pure anger.
"Between your caps and the Bloodletters's, I'll have enough money to take me to New Pegasus!" He trotted out of the building, grinning from ear to ear. It was the last time I ever saw him. Moments later, I heard an explosion from just outside the shop and knew exactly what had happened.
Sounds like Gorehead had never warned ol' Ripper about the landmines.
After a few moments of herculean effort, I rose to my hooves. Blood still trickled from my gunshot wound, but I tore off a section of cotton from my saddlebag strap and fastened it tight around my neck to stop the bleeding. Slowly and wordlessly, I exited the shop and looked at where most of Ripper's body now lay, in scores of pieces around the street. Bottle caps and gore both decorated the asphalt, having been torn from the stallion as he had stepped on the mine.
I set to work gathering the caps on the ground. Roughly four-hundred of them were scattered about the place, but I was quick to scoop them into my bags. When the deed was done, I turned my back on the town for the last time.
It was difficult for me to decide whether or not Ripper's death was my doing. Sure, I didn't put the landmine there, but I didn't exactly warn him either. In the end, I figured that one more notch on my rifle couldn't hurt.
