I don't believe that you can't remember. I think you'd just prefer not to...
A pony in power armor wakes to find themselves in the middle of what was once a road. With no memory of who they are or where they are from, they set out to unravel the mystery of their origin.
The post-apocalyptic sun beat down over the broken asphalt that served as a road as I awoke, confused, alone, and with no memory of who I was. What I could only assume were my only possessions lay scattered across the ground, just out of reach. Bandages, braces and other medical supplies lay closest to me. A rifle was lodged in the ground a few feet away, while various types of ammunition littered the area.
My first attempt to rise to my hooves was thwarted by the broken, dented and charred power armor that encased my body. From the condition it was in and the way it restricted my movement, I could only assume it was dead, the matrix having been damaged by something.
After a few minutes of wriggling, I managed to get the power armor completely. Now free of my metal prison, I started sorting the supplies and scrap into a pair of saddlebags nearby.
Within minutes I had managed to salvage every piece of equipment on the ground that still worked. I turned to look back at the power armor, deciding that I might still be able to get a fair price for it at the next settlement. I shifted it onto my back, the armor weighing me down and almost causing me to fall over. As I wondered how far I would be able to walk with the armor on my back, a glint of metal among the dirt caught my eye. I glanced in the direction of the glimmer, and my eyes came to rest upon a helmet matching the armor on my back.
Deciding that the helmet couldn't weigh me down that much more, I slid the power armor off of my back once more and deposited the helmet with the rest of my supplies. As I rebalanced the armor on my back, I turned and stared into the cloudy abyss that was the sky.
After a few minutes of standing there, staring transfixed at the cloud cover, I turned and began down the highway toward what I hoped was the nearest city.
As I stared down the weathered road, the sand and dust obscuring the horizon, I tried to remember anything at all about my past. The only things I remembered were that I was part of some type of group and that that group wore power armor. The only other thing I knew for certain was that even after walking a few miles from where I had awoken, I still hadn't seen a town, settlement, or even another living thing along the road.
The power armor slid off of my back for what seemed like the fiftieth time since I had begun walking and I fell to the ground with a sigh. Sliding the power armor back onto my back, I started down the road again.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
With about forty pounds on my back, not counting all of the supplies in my saddle bags, it was a miracle that I had managed to make it all the way to a decaying building before collapsing. Groaning as I got back to my hooves, I pushed the armor through the doors with my head and kicked them closed.
I dropped the rifle next to the power armor and stared down at it. This was the first time that I had actually taken the time to examine it, and what I saw crushed any thoughts of actually using it. The gun was in terrible condition. The outside was mostly intact, although some internal parts didn’t appear to be functional. After pondering what to do with it for a while, I decided to add it to my quickly growing pile of ‘stuff that’s broken beyond useless’.
I looked up, taking in the sight of the room. As I noticed the features of the room, I suddenly developed a feeling of intense dread. I remembered this building, but at the same time I didn’t. Near the back of the room, there was a stairwell. Beside the stairs were a few upturned desks and tables and a terminal lodged in the rubble. I swiftly went to the terminal, keeping my eyes on the stairs in case anything else was inhabiting the building. Shockingly, the terminal was still online and none of the data was corrupt. There were two files and a command, as far as I could tell: “Entry 1”, “Entry 2” and “Disengage Lock”. Still feeling uneasy, I chose the first option, and a block of text appeared.
Seriously, this job sucks. All the ponies in this building are crazy! Somepony’s already stolen two of my pencils, the clipboard the company issued me, and the key to the store room. I notified the foreman immediately, and he got the locks to the storeroom changed before anything important could be stolen. I also told them about the thief, and the son of a bitch had the nerve to tell me that I should have been more attentive!
Deciding that there was nothing extremely significant about that paragraph, I selected the second file and opened a smaller entry.
Jokes on them! Bought a safe today and I’m keeping it behind my desk. I managed to link the lock to my terminal and I’m keeping everything valuable in there. Also, bought a 9mm pistol and some ammo that I’m going to keep in the safe along with some other supplies, just in case. You never know these days, with the war and all.
Already pretty sure of what would happen, I selected the final option from the terminal and heard a soft *click* from underneath the pile of rubble. Kicking around a bit of debris, I finally found the small metal box. Inside was a roll of bandages, the pistol mentioned in the journal entry, 4 clips of ammo for said pistol and a small purple-ish potion. Unsure of what the last piece of salvage was, I placed it and the bandages into my bag gently, then put the pistol and rounds into the other bag, deciding that one should be for supplies and the other for weapons. The pistol and the knowledge that I could at least defend myself comforted me somewhat.
Now that I was pretty sure I had scavenged everything I needed from the first floor, I cautiously made my way to the staircase. I looked up the stairs, the steps themselves littered with small pieces of debris. As I stepped up, my front hoof fell in what felt like liquid. As I lifted it up and examined it, I noticed that the liquid was blood.
Looking back at the stairs, I realized that they were coated in blood. Judging by the bloodstains and the way it was smeared, it looked like something had been attacked near the bottom and had tried to crawl up the stairs. Whether they had lived long enough to make it to the top, though, I could only know by going up.
I pulled the pistol out of the bag and wondered what to do with it. After a few minutes of pondering, I decided that holding it in my mouth and trying to pull the trigger with my tongue would be easiest.
I slowly ascended the staircase, the blood making the feeling of unease return in full, along with a small amount of fear. What would I find at the top? Monsters? Robots? Mutants? The damn amnesia was making it impossible for me to remember why I was feeling so confused and scared about this building.
As I reached the top of the stairs and the beginning of the second floor, a smell hit me with such force that I nearly backed down the stairs. After a few seconds of thought, I remembered what that smell was, and where I had smelled it before.
I stepped into the building after my partner. He stepped forward, weapon pointed ahead. With a twitch of his head he motioned me over to the door at the other side of the room. I went over and pressed the door controls and we stepped into the next room.
The worst mistake I had made that day was removing my helmet. The smell was what hit me first. The stench of rotten meat slammed into me and caused me to reel. Partially decomposed body parts littered the room, a leg here, a torso there. My partner, safe inside their suit of power armor, stepped in to examine the room as I ran, through the security door, into the lobby and out of the building . I fell to the ground and retched for a few moments before bringing the contents of my earlier meal back up.
As I snapped back to reality, the familiar feeling of my insides shifting brought me running down the stairs. I made it to the ground floor before vomiting and sat there for a while, trying to hold in the contents of my stomach.
After a few minutes, I managed to successfully hold my breakfast down and noticed that there was another door off to the side of the room. Wondering how I missed it before, I slowly got to my hooves and made my way to the door. Tapping the door controls quickly, I stepped into the room.
The bathroom was relatively clean and mostly free of debris. I stepped slowly over to the medical cabinet on the wall and wrenched it open. Grabbing some more bandages and a few slim syringes, I turned and kicked open one of the stall doors. I stepped over and repeated the process with the other two doors. Deciding that nothing of use was in them, I turned and caught a glimpse in one of the mirrors.
I turned and looked at the dark blue unicorn staring back at me.
I stared into the mirror in shock for a few seconds before facehoofing. I am the only pony stupid enough to forget about one of their limbs, I thought to myself as I opened my eyes. I turned back around and stepped toward the door to try to ascend the stairs again.
As I trotted out of the bathroom, I noticed that I still held the pistol in my mouth. Resisting the urge to facehoof again at my continuing stupidity, I attempted to levitate the pistol. After a few minutes of struggling and quite a bit of cursing, I managed to shakily float the pistol in front of me. Not using magic in a long time had really left me out of practice.
As I made my way to the stairs, the vile odor from before crossed my mind. Struck by a sudden idea, I dropped the pistol and levitated out the helmet from my power armor. As I tried to fit it onto my head, I suddenly remembered something that I seemingly forgot quite often. Thinking back to why I had never remembered wearing the helmet, I floated it up to eye level.
Yep. The helmet was designed for earth ponies. With no place for my horn in the grey metal helmet, I returned it to my saddlebag, wondering if I could get somepony to modify it to fit my head.
Alright, I thought. Note to self: You are a unicorn.
With wearing the helmet out of the question, I decided to brave the stairs and hope for the best. I tentatively stepped up onto the first step, the smell of death coming back partially. Deciding that holding my breath was the best option, I stepped back a few feet and inhaled deeply before galloping up the steps.
As I reached the top, I turned and looked down the hallway. Two doors stood on the right side of the hallway while a third stood on the left. I galloped into the closest door on the right and immediately stepped back out as I noticed it was caved in. I turned and ran into the next door on that side of the hallway, my lungs burning.
I ran into what looked like an office and pull open the top drawer of the desk. Thrusting a few bottle caps and a tin of something called 'Mint-als' into my saddlebags, I turned and sped back down the stairs, jumping down and skipping the last few. I fell to the floor of the lobby and gasped for breath.
"Why.. Did I... Just do that?!?" I muttered between gasps. I considered downstairs and just leaving the building, letting whatever was in that last room stay there. Curiosity got the best of me after a few minutes, though, and I took another deep breath.
Speeding back up the stairs, I tapped another panel of door controls and ran through the remaining door, eyes widening in fear.
Bodies littered the room; some were skeletons, while others of them appeared to be recently killed. I stared on in horror and slowly backed out the door, my heart racing. Suddenly, something walked into my view.
Out of the shadows of the room, the shape of a pony emerged. At first it looked normal enough.
"Hey! Are you okay?" I called out, levitating a cloth from my bag up to my nose and mouth. The cloth did little to help, but still comforted me a bit. Instead of replying, the pony stepped out from the shadows.
As they stepped into view, a scream caught in my throat. The pony's skin was rotting, literally almost falling off. It was hairless, furless and almost toothless. It noticed me standing there, shocked, and growled while charging toward me. Not knowing what to do, I levitated the pistol up and pulled the trigger. With an explosion and a violent jerk, the pistol spat out several rounds at the zombie. Only one round hit home, causing it to stumble a bit.
Quickly regaining its balance, the zombie charged at me again. My ears ringing, I steadied the pistol and levitated it close so I could look down the sight. Another 3 rounds were propelled out with a sudden pressure and then a dead silence, these ones smashing into the zombie's chest. The zombie fell to the ground with a muffled growl, then fell silent.
Breathing deeply, my ears ringing and everything muffled, I choked as the smell hit me again. I stepped over the zombie, trying to get out of the room as quickly as I could.
As my last hoof set down on the other side of the ghoul, it suddenly lashed out again, biting down into my back leg. I yelled out in pain, swinging the pistol around and pressing it up against the ghoul's forehead. With one final shot, the bullet smashed home and punched a hole through the zombie’s brain.
Grunting in pain, I pulled out a length of the badges from my bag and wrapped them around my leg. Figuring that it couldn't hurt me anymore, I pulled one of the Mint-als from the tin and popped it into my mouth.
Instantly, everything became much clearer and I felt immensely calmer. Head clear and leg bleeding slightly less, I examined the room some more. Bodies sat rotting, strewn across the room, while skeletons of ponies long dead grinned out from the corners.
I quickly came to the realization that one of those things couldn't have done this alone. I looked into the shadows at the other side of the room, half expecting to see hundreds of the things swarming towards me. When I noticed that there weren't any more zombies coming to eat me, I trotted over to the other side.
The bodies of creatures similar to the one I had killed were strewn around one that looked different. The dissimilar body turned out to be that of a normal pony. They had probably tried to loot the building, looking for treasure or riches, and had instead met a pack of zombie ponies.
The rifle laying next to them was in terrible condition and almost unusable. I thought that I might be able to use at least a few of the parts to fix my rifle, so I slung it on my back and stepped over the corpses, levitating the ammo from the looter into my bag. Looking up, I noticed that the wall was a dead end.
I trotted back downstairs, the smell still lingering. I knew it would take days to get it out of my fur, and that it would be very difficult to do so. Walking over to my old rifle and my armor, I stripped both rifles down and used the parts from the new one to fix the old one. They weren’t the same rifle, but were extremely similar. Admiring my work, I spun the now working rifle in front of me. Bolt-action, .308 caliber, hunting rifle with room for a scope. Placing it in the bag I designated for weapons, I turned and stepped out of the building, placing the power armor onto my back.
The sand and dust had settled down immensely. On the horizon there sat what appeared to be a town or settlement, maybe two or three miles away. Now armed, I set off down the road again, the weight of the power armor now feeling familiar.
“He has a right to criticize, who has a heart to help.”
Smoke.
Smoke is never good.
I peered out from behind the rock I was using for cover and stared at the nearby ruins. Smoke and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. Piles of ash, still-smoldering embers glowing in the night, and scorched wooden debris were all that remained of the small village. The town was probably too small to be on any map (if anypony out here even had a map) but not too small to attract the local raiders.
Movement in what was left of one of the razed buildings caught my attention. I knew that there was a fifty percent chance that it was a raider, but that there were the same odds that it was a survivor. Steeling my nerves, I tied a rag around my face to keep the smoke out of my lungs and levitated the hunting rifle to my side. Stepping out from my cover, my eyes swept the ruins, searching for any signs of the ponies who did this. When I was satisfied that there were no immediate threats, I dropped the power armor behind the rock and slowly trotted over to the charred remnants of the house.
Hiding behind a partially collapsed wall, I examined the building where the movement came from. This house seemed to have been demolished with explosives rather than burnt. Instead of piles of ash, the floor and ground around the house was buried underneath piles of rubble.
Hoping to find out what had moved, I kicked some of the debris out of the way. A flash of red under some charred timber caught my eye. Kicking away some more of the rubble, I levitated my rifle over to the red patch.
I gave the red bit a light poke, and my eyes widened as a small whimper rose from the rubble. Somepony survived! Scanning the ruins for hostiles once more, I dropped the rifle to the ground and magically tore into the debris. Flinging burnt chairs and charred tables behind me revealed more and more red fur, until a red earth pony with a bright orange mane laid in front of me.
It looks like they tried to get home when the raiders hit, and had their house dropped on them... That's probably the only reason they're still alive. I can't tell if they're lucky or unlucky... I thought to myself, looking down at the mysterious pony.
I laid the injured pony on the ground in front of me and pulled out my bandages and the flask of the strange purple liquid. The pony had some nasty cuts and one or two deep gashes, but most of their injuries seemed to be internal. Crap, I thought to myself. Bandages can't heal internal bleeding. I looked at the vial of purple fluid one more time. They're already dying. It can't hurt to try it.
Uncorking the bottle, I raised it to the colt's lips and tipped it upwards. After a few seconds, his eyes fluttered open and he drank the rest of the potion, looking better every second. With a cough, he drained the last of the contents of the bottle and dropped it onto the ground. Shaking his head, he looked up at me with a mixture of confusion and fear.
"Um, t-thanks, b-but why are you helping me?" He stammered, backing a small distance away. I frowned at his behavior before replying.
"I helped you because, well..." I thought for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Well, I guess I helped you because you needed help. I couldn't just let you lay there and die." He blinked and I went on. "I guess my conscience made me help you."
He looked at me, his fear turning into confusion. "A raider with a conscience?" He muttered. "That's a first." At my shocked expression, he quickly stammered out another sentence. "N-not that I'm insulting you, o-or anything."
After a few moments of unbearable silence, I burst out laughing. So that's what this guy's problem is. At the look of shock and confusion on the colt's face, I began explaining. "I'm not a raider! I'm just... Well, I don't know what I am, but I'm pretty sure I'm not a raider." At this revelation, he relaxed slightly and moved a bit closer to me. "Anyway, I don't think a raider with a conscience is even considered a raider anymore!" This remark elicited a slight chuckle from the red buck.
"Sorry for the assumption." The colt looked up sheepishly. "The only ponies that pass through here nowadays are either raiders trying to kill us or slavers trying to sell us. Anyway, the name's Flare. My special talent’s, well, burning things." He said with a smile, motioning to the ball of flame on his flank.
Alright. At least I know something about him, I thought to myself. Unless he's lying to me.
"Alright!" I said, enthusiastically. "Well, I've got to go find out who I am, so I'll let you get on with..." I searched for the right word. "Rebuilding?" This comment brought a shocked expression to his face.
"Rebuild? Hell no! I'm leaving this Celestia-forsaken town to rot!" He exclaimed. "If we rebuild, this'll just happen all over again. Nah, I'm gonna leave and see where the road takes me. Thanks again for your help, but I really should get going if I want to make it to a town by tomorrow." He nodded in my direction and began trotting away from the town.
"Actually..." He stopped to look back at me after a few steps. "I'm not about to go trotting around in raider territory at night with no weapons. Can you help me somehow?" He turned and looked at me, waiting for an answer.
I looked at him for a few moments and sighed. "You could come with me. There's strength in numbers, and we'd both be less likely to die with somepony else watching our back."
He thought it over for a few minutes before replying. "Well... Why not? Not dying sounds nice," he said. "Anyway, where are you headed?"
"Well..." This question completely stumped me. "I actually have no idea." I looked down at my hooves sheepishly. "I have a bit of amnesia, so I'm just trying to remember anything I can about my past."
He looked surprised at this. "Well, I guess anyplace is better than here. C'mon, let's see if we can scavenge anything from this place."
"Alright," I replied, levitating my pistol and the four clips over to him. "But take this with you. I don't know if the raiders are still here." With a nod, Flare and I began to scavenge the ruins of his town.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
After about an hour of searching the various ruins and rubble for anything of use, Flare and I met back at the house I found him under. He had managed to find a box of 10mm rounds (which neither of us could use), a locked medical box (which neither of us could open), and a combat knife that one of the raiders had dropped. I had just as little luck, collecting a length of pipe, a spark battery I thought I could use on my power armor, and a box of something called Sugar Apple Bombs.
We stood over the medical box. Flare nudged it with a hoof and looked towards me. "Do you have a bobby pin and a screwdriver? I could probably open it if we did." I rummaged through my saddlebags for a second and produced a few bobby pins and a screwdriver. Levitating them over to him, I flung the spark battery away and peered over his shoulder.
Flare placed the bobby pin in the lock and turned it for a few degrees. Eventually he slid the screwdriver into the lock and turned it slowly. A click sounded from inside the lock and the box popped open. Flare swung the lid over and we peered into the box.
Laying inside the box were a few more bandages, a pack of... Blood? And two more of the purple potions I saw before. "Hey, Flare." Flare turned to me as I spoke. "What are those purple drinks? I gave you one before but I didn't know what it was." At this remark, he stared at me silently.
"So... You had no idea whether something was poisonous or not," he started, staring at me with a blank expression. "And not knowing what it was, you gave it to somepony you were trying to save." He blinked and continued. "What part of that seemed smart to you?"
"Hey!" I said in my defense. "You were bleeding internally. I thought it couldn't hurt you anymore than you already were."
Flare sighed. "Well, you were right about that. Those are healing potions. They do what the name implies. But they can't heal major wounds and they won't remove bullets, so don't think you can run into machine gun fire and just walk away with a few less potions." He turned to look toward the horizon. "Anyway, we should get going. Who knows if those raiders will come back?"
I nodded in agreement and spoke up. "Wait just a moment. I'll go get the rest of my supplies." I left Flare with the loot and trotted over to my power armor. Levitating it onto my back, I returned to Flare, who was now eyeing the armor wearily.
"Where did you get that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. I shifted and let the power armor slide to the ground. Thinking quickly, I replied with a lie that I hoped he would believe.
"I found it on a corpse in a building back down the road. I took it because I thought it would at least be useful if we sold it for scrap." I hoped he wouldn't ask anything else, or my lies would collapse. After a few tense moments, he nodded and started packing up everything we had scavenged. After packing up all the supplies we had managed to collect, we started down the road away from the ruins of the town.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
"I think we're lost."
"We aren't lost! I just have no idea where we are. Or where we're going. Or how to get there. But I know that we're going... North-ish. I think..." As the words left my mouth, I started to realize that things were getting hopeless. We had been walking for at least an hour, and we hadn't seen a single settlement on the way. I mentally kicked myself for passing out in the middle of nowhere.
“I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of lost,” Flare said, looking over at me. “This is getting us nowhere. All we’re doing is exhausting ourselves by walking in circles!” After a few more miles of nothing, he trotted over to the skeletal remains of what was once a tree and laid down in the little bit of shade it provided.
I moved over to his side and dropped the power armor with a loud *thump*. Breathing heavily, I turned to glare at him. “I’ve... been carrying... this armor... for the past 3 miles. You... don’t get to complain!”
He snickered and waited for me to catch my breath before replying. “Well, why not just drop the armor? I doubt that you could really sell it for anything in this condition, and even if you got it repaired you wouldn’t be able to use it.”
This last remark surprised me. “Why can’t I use it? I’m pretty sure it would fit me.”
Flare looked over and sighed. “Sorry, I keep forgetting about the amnesia. That’s power armor, and you’d need power armor training if you even want to wear it. Do you even know where that armor is from?"
“Um... No?” I replied, looking sheepish. “I just found it, remember? All I know is that it looks cool.” Alright, so that wasn’t a complete lie. I knew how to use it and I knew it was mine, but I really didn't know anything past that.
"That's Steel Ranger power armor," Flare stated. "They're these crazy ponies who think that any piece of technology from before the war should be hoarded and locked up. Sometimes they'll even attack innocent ponies for any pre-war tech on them. PipBucks, beam weapons, anything they see as valuable or dangerous."
This last revelation shocked me. Could I really have been like that? Noticing Flare's look of confusion I spoke up. "Oh, I just can't believe anypony would be that cruel!" I lied. "Attacking innocent ponies just for a piece of tech? That's horrible!"
Flare looked at me suspiciously once more. "Alright..." He said slowly before getting back onto his hooves. I followed suit and levitated the armor over to Flare.
"You get to carry the armor this time." He scowled at me and shifted the armor onto his back.
"Why? It's your armor! You carry it!" Flare glared over at me.
"Why? Because you're a gentlecolt. You should start acting like one." I smirked and looked over at him. He glared and starting trotting away from me, muttering under his breath.
"*Sigh* Fillies..."
Footnote: Level up!
Perks Gained: Life Giver - +30 HP
[A/N: Sorry for such a long wait. I had some stuff to do for school and other stuff in my life (sick relatives, weddings, etc.). Alright, so! Main character. I'm being vague about them on purpose. So far we've got race, coat color, and gender. There'll be more next chapter.]
Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance.
Alright, I thought, trying to stay conscious. Flare stood next to me, firing his 9mm pistol at the approaching raiders. They returned fire, sending various caliber bullets into the broken carriage we hid behind. Just keep calm and breath. I tore my eyes away from the battle, looked down at the bullet holes peppering my hide and groaned. Well, can't help it now. I shakily levitated my hunting rifle up and peered around the carriage.
---Thirty Minutes Ago---
Flare and I trotted past the faded road sign, the symbols having been replaced long ago with a hastily scrawled "FUCK YOU". We both knew it was raider territory, and yet we continued our journey unfazed. At the next vandilized sign, Flare looked at me nervously, his confidence waning.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked. "They'll have better weapons and more supplies than us, not to mention that it's the two of use versus all of them." He looked around nervously before continuing. "We could always turn around and find a nice town with ponies who won't shoot us!"
I turned to stare at him. "These ponies came into your town, murdered everypony, nearly killed you, and you want to just let them go?" I said, my voice slowly rising. "What if they do that to somepony else? What if they attack another town? Kill more ponies? Who knows who they could hurt! Colts! Fillies! Foals!" I practically shouted. With every accusing word, Flare backed further away.
Once I was able to compose myself, I looked apologetically into his hurt eyes. "I'm sorry, Flare. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just don't want anypony to die because I couldn't stop their killer," I forced a smile which the red buck eventually managed to return. Flare seemed slightly more eager to press onward (most likely because of my outburst) and I frowned as he turned to keep trotting. Great. We have a colt who is either brash and arrogant or afraid of his own shadow and a possibly bipolar filly with no memory. We make an amazing team.
Still deep in thought, I didn't notice that Flare was far ahead of me. I galloped after him, catching up and looking at his expression. He looked occupied with his thoughts, as I was a few moments ago. I decided to try and break the awkward silence.
"So, Flare," I said casually. "Where exactly are we? Like, as specific as you can get." He snapped out of his tangent and looked back at me.
"Well," he began. "Right now we're in Equestria. It was ruled by two princesses: Celestia, who raised the sun, and Luna, who controlled the moon. About two hundred years ago, there was a war between us and the zebra. The short version is, neither side had the resources that they needed, and eventually something terrible happened. The princesses fell, and everything blew up, to put it lightly. But, to be even more specific, we're in the Badlands, on the opposite side of Canterlot from the rest of Equestria.
"Basically, this place is mostly dirt and dust, with scattered towns and raider settlements here and there. It's barely inside the Equestrian Borders. The ponies of the old world tried building roads and towns, but mysterious dissapearances stopped them. Eventually, they just abandoned the idea of trying to settle and moved back closer to Canterlot and the rest of Equestria. The Badlands actually has quite a long history and quite a few myths, which probably helped contributed to that.
"According to my father, before the war there were these things called "Changelings". They could actually take the shape of other ponies to imitate them so they can feed off of the love of the ponies around them. Anyway, a few, including their queen, Chrysalis, were forced into the Badlands after a plan to invade went wrong. According to Dad, their queen remained in the Badlands for some time, and a few Changelings remained even after she returned. We always thought that there must have been some reason for that to happen, and I believe that there was some sort of base where the Changelings were observing Equestria, waiting to strike."
As we neared a partially destroyed carriage we were jolted out of the conversation by a hail of bullets. Flare dove behind the wagon and pulled his pistol out with his mouth. As I ran over to join him, I felt a dull impact in my hind legs and flank, which quickly turned into a searing pain. It took me a moment to realize I had been shot with a small caliber gun.
Alright, I thought, trying to stay conscious...
---The Present---
I lined up the rifle's iron sights with the area above a rock the raiders were using for cover, when one of them decided to peer over it, aiming a submachine gun. I shakily rested the front sight over his head.
With a telekinetic pull of the trigger, the rifle expelled a .308 round with deadly accuracy. The bullet made contact with the raider milliseconds later, blasting the back of his head and skull into small fragments. His corpse fell to the ground with a loud thump, and another raider, levitating an assault rifle, noticed.
"Sniper!" The raider called out, and our enemies began mistakenly scanning the landscape behind us. Flare took this opportunity to line up a few more kills, downing two raiders and knocking another one to the ground. I lined up the sights again and finished off the downed raider, alerting his compatriots. The raiders noticed their mistake and began firing at me instead. I pulled my head back behind the carriage and exhaled, realizing that I had been holding my breath. I pulled the rifle's bolt gently up and back, ejecting the spent round from the rifle, then slid the bolt back into place, leaning slightly so I could look around the carriage.
The raiders, realizing that they couldn't beat us in a firefight, pulled out various close range weapons and charged towards us. Flare began calmly firing into the few raiders that remained while I pulled out the combat knife he had found. Three raiders managed to survive Flare's shots. One unicorn advanced menacingly towards me while the other two, an earth pony and another unicorn, ganged up on Flare. Focusing on my raider, who was now raising a switchblade, I backed up, pointing my knife at him. I finally got my first up-close look at these ponies. The raider wore a mangled piece of metal that I could only assume was some kind of barding. Blood caked his coat, which was thinning in many places. He chuckled and smiled insanely at me.
"Heh, a mare! I think I'll have some fun before I kill you." His smile widened. "Maybe after I kill you, too!" The comment stunned me. He took this opportunity and lashed out at me with the switchblade, the wounds in my leg and flank causing me to stumble as he swung. Cackling maniacally, he brought the switchblade down hard, and I barely managed to block it with my own knife. I looked over at Flare as two gunshots rang out and one of the raiders on him fell bleeding to the ground. Shifting my attention gave the raider another opening, and this time he plunged the switchblade into my side. Crying out in pain, my magic failed and I dropped my knife, scrambling to back away from him. The raider laughed again, trotting slowly over to me as his horn lit up.
Waves of pain washed over me as the switchblade in my side began twisting. I didn't hear the gunshots that signaled the death of Flare's remaining raider, nor did I notice him aim at my assailant. With a single shot, the raider dropped lifelessly and the pressure on the switchblade stopped. I groaned in pain as Flare galloped over to me, pulling out a pair of tweezers and one of our healing potions.
He carefully manipulated the tweezers in his mouth, removing the bullet in my leg after a few tries. He looked me over for any other bullet wounds, and he eventually noticed the bullet lodged in my flank, just below my cutie mark. Stammering, he looked over to me. After a reassuring look from me, he blushed slightly and began searching for the lead lodged in my haunches.
After a few seconds, I coughed and looked back at him. His face appeared to turn even redder (If that was even possible) and he finally removed the bullet. He passed me the healing potion, which I downed in a few seconds. As the potion took effect, I stood up, the pain in my side, leg, and flank slowly fading as the wounds closed up. I looked back at my cutie mark, which I hadn't noticed until now, because it was... a line? "My cutie mark is a LINE?" I shouted, causing Flare to jump. A thick red line graced my flank. When I had first woken up, I had assumed it was just a cut that would heal with time. I sighed at my luck. I had what was possibly the worst cutie mark in the entire wasteland. I should have expected that.
Remembering the events that had just transpired, Flare and I stood there awkwardly, a faint blush still evident on his face. A few moments later, I spoke up.
"Thanks. For, you know, saving me. I actually thought I was gonna die for a few seconds there." Flare smiled, the blush fading, but the nervous expression from before returning. He coughed before replying.
"It was nothing. You would have done the same for me." He looked up in thought, then smiled at me. "In fact, you already did, remember? Back in town, you saved my life." I smiled back at him, before not-so-distant gunshots tore us away from the moment.
"Well, let's make sure I don't have to save it again." I turned to him and smiled again, trotting over to where I had dropped my power armor. "Run!"
After a few minutes of running, we came upon a plain wooden door in the face of a small cliff. The gunfire still pursued us, and we had maybe two minutes at the most before we were dead. I looked at the plain door, and whispered to Flare. "We can hide in here." With a nod from him, we slowly pushed the door inward and trotted inside. My eyes strained, trying to find a familiar shape in the void that was the cavern. After our eyes adjusted, we stepped into the cave, shutting the door behind us.
Flare looked around and pushed a large rock in front of the door, making it nearly impossible to open from the outside. He smiled and we turned to journey deeper into the cave. One of my hooves caught on a large rock and I stumbled, the rock rolling before stopping a few feet away. I began to walk deeper into the tunnel, but stopped and turned. Why would a rock that big be that light? My horn lit up as the rock rose up to eye level, and I stared into the two holes that once help somepony's eyes. I dropped the skull in shock, looking down at my hooves. Several other skeletons littered the floor, remnants of ponies who had crawled into this cave and never crawled out.
I closed my eyes, my breathing forced, as I stepped over the remains. Flare noticed and helped guide me forward. A few feet away, I heard the sound of a body hitting metal and a pained "Oof!". I sighed. "You walked into a wall, didn't you?" I asked Flare.
There were a few moments of silence before I heard a tentative "No?" I sighed again as Flare continued. "It wasn't a wall. It's more of a... door." I opened my eyes and gasped at the sight before me.
A giant metal gear sat embedded in the wall of the cave. A large 63 was painted onto the middle, and a small control panel sat rooted in the ground on the side. I looked over at Flare, waiting for an explanation. He looked at the door, with a slight look of... Fear?
"I didn't know that they had actually put any of these this far out..." He muttered, shaking his head. He turned to me and began explaining. "These are called Stables. They were built by Stable-Tech before the war in case it escalated to the point where, well, this happened," He said, motioning all around with a hoof. "They were meant to work for hundreds of years to protect anypony living inside, but not all of them opened back up. Some were safe havens, closing and protecting ponies from the outside, while others were death traps, sealing them inside. I didn't think that Stable-Tech had actually built any this far away from Equestria, but apparently they did." He looked back at me, frowning. "If there's anypony still alive in their, they may need help. Or they might kill us." He raised an eyebrow. "Shall we go investigate?"
I thought for a moment before replying. "I think we should. Even if nopony is still alive, we might find supplies." I smiled at him. "But don't worry. If you don't want to go inside, we can just go meet the raiders outside." I laughed at his annoyed expression and flipped the lever on the control panel. With a loud siren, the door began receding, the loud screech of metal grating against metal tearing into my eardrums. The sound eventually stopped, and the door slid to the side with a mechanical whine.
Dropping my power armor behind a rock and stepping into the Stable entrance, Flare and I examined our surroundings. The walls appeared to be in a fair condition, the rivets and panels devoid of rust and grime. A set of controls similar to the one outside sat inside the Stable. A few boxes of industrial cleaner sat on a set of shelves nearby. Flare growled before sighing. "That's what I was afraid of," he muttered. "If the Stable's in this good a condition, then there are ponies still alive down here." He looked around cautiously. "And we're trespassing."
I noticed a sign labeled "Living Quarters" above a stairwell in a nearby hallway. Motioning to Flare, I trotted quickly down the staircase, looking for anypony still alive. I peered into every room, looking for any clue as to what happened. Each room was well kept, with a drawer, bed, and footlocker. Deciding to be nosy, I peered into them, finding they were all empty. Finding nopony alive, Flare and I made our way toward another staircase with a sign, this one labeled "Overmare's Office". We followed the arrow conveniently pointing toward our destination. After going down another flight of stairs, we reached a forked path. Two mechanical doors sat at either end. We trotted over to the one labeled "Overmare's Office".. Hitting the switch, we walked into the office, Flare now drawing his pistol.
This room was similarly empty. A terminal sat behind a circular desk, surrounded by various devices doing Celestia-knows-what. I powered the terminal on, and an error message appeared: TERMINAL LOCKED. CONTACT OVERMARE. Without the means to access any files, I gave up and left the room while Flare stayed behind to try to find a key to access the terminal.
I noticed a third sign labeled "Armory" further down the hallway and felt my face break into a smile at the thought of more firepower. Stepping into the aforementioned room, I gasped as I saw the various weapons and weapon attachments. What shocked me the most, though, was the suit of power armor sitting on a shelf in the far side of the room. Grinning like a foal in a candy shop, I hopped over to the armor and began dragging it upstairs to the entrance of the Stable. Unable to get it up the stairs, I laid it in front of the staircase up to the Living Quarters and galloped outside to get my power armor. As I dragged my own armor back to the new set, a noise from the Overmare's Office caught my attention. I pulled out my combat knife and stepped into the office.
The sight in the office caused made me blink and rub my eyes in confusion.
Two Flares sat in the room, each pointing a pistol at the other.
Footnote: Level up!
Perks Gained:
Protagonist: Adamantium Skeleton - Damage taken by limbs reduced by 50%.
Flare: Rapid Reload - All of your weapon reloads are 25% faster.
[A/N: The one time I actually get a chapter out without that long of a wait, Google Docs destroys it and I have to write the whole thing over. Sorry about that. Also, the chapters are getting slightly longer every time, which I just noticed.]
Well, I guess I'm back. Sorry for the wait, guys and girls. I had some trouble with school and a summer job, so I couldn't write. I also want to rewrite the most recent events, so I'm just going to start back at the part when they first went into the Stable. Oh, yeah, and I forget everything about where this story was going so, we're just gonna wing it! Also, you can expect another one fairly soon. Can't say much about after that, though...]
I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
Flare and I trotted into the Stable, our hooves clacking against the grate that served as the floor. I noticed two things about the Stable almost immediately; One: everything was a shade of grey or brown. No other colors seemed to exist in the entirety of the Stable, save for Flare's vibrant red and orange. And, two: Machines of all sizes stood silently along the far wall. I stared in awe at the complicated control panels and huge appliances that did Celestia-knows-what, silently maintaining the community once sheltered within. And then, I started grinning. The sheer amount of pre-war technology in the room was overwhelming! All of these machines had so many functions, so many stories! I could learn so much from them, if only we had the time!
The door mechanism, now silent, sat above the path into the Stable, connected to the huge cog that served as the door. Flare pulled the lever identical to the one outside, and the cog rolled back into place, sealing with another ear-shattering screech. It amazed me that something so huge could move so quickly, even if it did shriek like a banshee. I wonder, what type of oil do they use on giant steel gears? Do they even need to be oiled? I mean, it's been hundreds of years, and this one still works fine...
Shaking the thoughts of dismantling most of the Stable's front door out of my head, I tore my gaze away from the various contraptions littering the Stable's entrance and reluctantly ran to catch up to Flare, who had already opened the first set of doors.
As we continued into the bunker, we entered a room filled with criss-crossing overhead pipes and littered with sharp metal scraps. One of the overhead pipes had burst recently, dripping murky water, which pooled in the middle of the room. Flare and I stepped carefully, trying to stay as dry as possible, and I paused to stare up at the "Atrium" sign above the next door. Even if I was right in the head, I still don't think I would have had any idea as to what an 'atrium' was.
As it turned out, 'atrium' is another word for 'large room for lots of ponies'. It was indeed a spacious room, with most of the outside space taken up by chairs or tables. The middle of the room was empty, consisting of room probably used for parties or gatherings, while a set of walkways stood silently over the first floor. The atrium looked as though it had been used recently, but everypony had left in a hurry; The walls of the large, two story room were unmarked and clear of rust and decay, but none of the tables or chairs were upright.
Flare walked into the middle of the room and nudged a table with his hoof. "I don't think we're alone in here," he said, frowning. "But why would everypony hide from us?" He shook his head and stepped back, nearly tripping into a table behind him. I trotted beside him and levitated my hunting rifle into a more easily accessible position, making sure the safety stayed on.
"Maybe they thought we were raiders?" I offered, poking at a strange pastry that lay on the floor. The cake felt dry and stale, but still managed to spring back to its original shape despite my best efforts to crush it. "Yuck. Is this thing alive or something?"
Flare also poked it before speaking up. "It's a 200-year old snack cake. They used to eat these back before the war," he said, a small grin flashing across his face. "These things have so many preservatives in 'em, I'm not surprised they're still edible." He leaned down and took a bite out of the cake, then looked up, smiling at me. "Mmmm," he said. "Tastes like history."
I looked at him, a faint grin breaking through my disapproving glare, before looking away and shaking my head. He smiled back at me and turned back to search the room.
Looking around, it wasn't long before we both noticed the doors labeled "Armory" and "Living Quarters" on the opposite ends of the room. Flare turned to me and said, "Go to the armory and grab anything that you think we'll need. I'll head to the living areas to see if anypony's still alive down here." He pointed to the respective doors with a hoof as he said their names.
I nodded and levitated my hunting rifle over to him. "Here, take this. If anypony's still down here, they'll probably be holed up in the living quarters, and they might not be so friendly." Looking at the rifle, Flare shook his head and nudged it back in my direction.
"I've already got my pistol, and it'll be better for fighting in close quarters," he said. "Besides, it's more likely that they went to the armory." At my skeptical look, he sighed and continued. "When you think you're being attacked, do you run toward your bedroom, or the giant pile of guns?"
...Alright, so he may have had a point there. I nodded and reluctantly shifted the rifle onto my back, as Flare turned to enter the living quarters, a look of triumph on his face. Halfway to the door, he hesitated, and turned to look back at me. The smile had left his features, and after a few moments he spoke up, his words surprising me, but not as much as his tone surprised me. "...Please, just try to not get shot again." On that note, he turned and trotted into the living areas.
Confused by his random bout of worry, I turned to begin the trip to the armory. As I stepped past the upturned tables and misplaced chairs, my earth-pony compatriot's words reverberated in my head. ...Try not to get shot again, okay?
I was confused, but I really didn't have time for this. These thoughts were just clouding my mind, and I needed to stay focused. I had a mission to do, and Flare was counting on me to check the Armory. I trotted down the short flight of stairs, keeping my eyes and my hunting rifle forward. Soon enough, my hoof hit the last step, and only a hydraulic door and a long hallway stood between me and the armory.
I briskly trotted down the hallway, stopping only to press the button for the next door. With a sharp hiss, the second door retracted, allowing me to look into the Stable's weapon and armor storage
A grin spread across my muzzle as I took in the sight of the armory. The inside was as surprisingly clean as the rest of the Stable, but much less empty. Every wall was fitted with a weapons rack, with ammunition boxes sitting locked underneath. The middle of the room sported multiple lockers, one of which had swung open, revealing a jumpsuit lying on another piece of clothing. On the opposite side of the room from myself, a door labeled "Security" sat in between two tables, one of which held what looked like a high-tech rifle.
The lockers in the room sat side to side in a line of five, sporting combination locks in pristine condition. The fairly well-kept locks looked like they would be difficult to crack, and the lack of a keyhole made picking them impossible. Turning my attention to the weapon racks, I noticed that the majority of them were empty, and the remainder contained only pistols and the odd small-caliber rifle. I trotted up to them, my initial elation deflating with each step I took.
Now that I was thoroughly disappointed in my find, I was able to organize the weapons in the room into three groups. The first group, pistols, included a few auto-loading 9mm's and one or two revolvers. I decided to quickly stow them in my bags, hoping that Flare could possibly find a use for them. The catch of the day, however, was the bag under one of the racks. The ammo boxes were mostly locked, but the bag was only zipped shut. Inside were a few boxes of ammo for the rifle, along with something else- A long, black tube, bearing a hole through it, with what looked like part of a screw coming out of one end. I placed it in my bag, wondering what its purpose was.
The second group was fairly more exciting. This category was comprised of explosives of various types and charges. I don't know why, but the entire time I was smiling inside at the thought of getting to use them on the raiders that were tailing us. There were three frag grenades, two mines, and another strange type of grenade. The new grenade had a blue band circling it, and I could deduce that it would have some new effect, rather than simply exploding. After a few minutes of staring at it, I shrugged, throwing the explosives in with the pistols.
With the first two out of the way, I walked on to the final grouping, just now noticing how heavy my saddlebags were becoming. I looked over the table, now filled with various rifles. I grabbed a hunting rifle similar to my own and slung it over my back, in case mine needed repair. There were two other rifles sitting there: One, a bolt-action rifle with a small scope, that appeared to use a round smaller than my hunting rifle, and the other, some sort of high-tech magical rifle. I couldn't find any way of loading it, but levitating it felt... right, somehow. I shouldered it, along with the two hunting rifles, and turned, finally, to the lockers.
I pulled the ajar locker open with my magic and peered inside. A light blue jumpsuit, devoid of markings, sat upon a bulky, black vest, with the word "Security" printed on the back. It took me a few moments to realize the vest was bulletproof, and a few more moments to pull the rifles off my back and slip the vest on. I packed the jumpsuit under my newly acquired explosives and pistols, then turned to the next locker, floating a screwdriver over from a nearby table. As I was fiddling with the lock, attempting to break it, a single gunshot rang out from back toward the atrium, causing me to spring to alert.
I levitated my saddlebags off of my back and stuffed them into the locker, then slammed the door shut and took off, running. Through the hallways, past the doors, and back up the stairs, up until I hit the Atrium. I skidded to a stop at the atrium door, swinging the newest rifle forward. Praying to Celestia that it was loaded, I hit the door button and slipped inside.
I was greeted with a bullet impacting the wall directly next to my head. With a yelp, I slid behind one of the overturned tables, trying to keep all of my limbs behind cover, even as shots blasted the wall behind me. When the barrage finally stopped, I quickly peered around the table, scanning the room for my assailant. My eyes caught a flash of color behind a table, and I aimed the rifle, waiting for them to give me a target. When they peered out, thought, I noticed that my target was...Flare?
As I sat there in shock, he noticed me and glared, firing a few more shots in my direction. I pulled my head back behind the table and yelled out to him. "Flare, it's me, damnit. Stop shooting!" The gunshots ceased, and I pushed part of a chair out from the cover as a decoy. When another few shots hit the chair, I pulled back behind the table and growled.
Cursing myself for leaving the grenades downstairs, I levitated the rifle up. I really didn't want to kill Flare, but... If it came down to it... it was better him than me. As I was about to move to try and get a shot, a voice called out from somewhere to my left.
"Psst... Hey!" A figure called out in a strained voice, appearing from behind a few chairs. "Hey, it's me!"
And, while stuck in a two-hundred year old underground ghost town, surrounded by steel and earth on all sides, while under fire from my only friend, I saw the first thing that completely confused me.
Because, from behind the chairs, another Flare stared back at me, disheveled and bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound.
