• Published 31st Jan 2015
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Fallout Equestria: Broken Hearts - The Suave One


The Crystal Empire. A small kingdom, a large city, located in the Frozen North. The only ponies want to be there are feral ghouls, and everypony else is only there because they have no other choice.

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Chapter 3: Cannibal With A Point

“Why does life have to be so ironic?!”

So, my new friend ate other ponies. I sat there watching him eat what I assumed was the pony we had killed earlier that day. My guts churned, but I had already vomited my breakfast up. Sugar Apple Bombs only taste good when they are going down into the stomach, not coming back up. As much as I had disagreed with the idea, he had explained his lifestyle choice in such a way that it was hard to fault him.

Arbu was a small town in Equestria, mainly comprised of two donut shops. Nearby was a radigator farm that the citizens used for trade. Meat was not all that popular, and so in order to get enough money to afford armour and weapons to protect the town, the ponies living there would need to sell all they caught. This was fine as there was a lot of food there, as well as supplies to make more food. However, over the years, Arbu ate away the supplies, and its citizens were starting to starve. It was in a most desperate period of time when they started to eat the bodies of the dead, and only the dead. They also wouldn’t kill a pony just to eat him or her. And so it was, Arbu became a cannibal town. Once a citizen had made their first kill, be it radigator, mole rat or even pony, they would eat its heart and gain their Arbu mark. The Arbu mark symbolised that pony’s ability to fend for himself or herself. Once a pony got their Arbu mark, they were allowed to leave Arbu.

Red Snow had helped defend the town from a group of slavers when he made his first kill. He had remained in Arbu for a few years after that before deciding to wander the wasteland. He had wandered ever since. Not belonging anywhere, never staying anywhere. A monster amongst the males, a fiend amongst the female. Or so he described it. He had been brought up on the taste of meat and found he dislike the taste of most foods other ponies ate, hence the reason he continued to eat it.

Most ponies found it reasonable to kill cannibals on sight, and many even promoted the practise. Arbu had become one of the most friendliest towns in the Equestrian wasteland in order to make other ponies less suspicious. So far, so good.

And so there I sat, watching him eat cooked hunks of meat. I barely blinked, and found that, as disgusting as it was, I couldn’t look away. He sat there, eating it like a drug addict sniffed coke. Which is to say, absolutely no grace at all. Once he had finished eating the remains of a fellow equine, he looked up at me with a small smile.

“You’re taking it better than most.”
“How do most take it?”
“Like somepony trying to rape them, By shooting the offender multiple times.”
Normally, such a comment would make me laugh, but all I could do was stare ahead and nod.
“If you would still like to try some, feel free.”
I shook my head slowly, but it was too late. I was already picturing the taste and texture of the meat in my mouth and it was enough to make me retch again, emptying my body of a bit more of my dwindling supply of bile. I managed to lift a bottle of water out of my bag in order to wash the feral taste out of my mouth. That made me a bit more responsive to life, and I was finally able to move again. I looked around the room I was in, and found myself wondering how I got here, so I asked Red Snow.

“One advantage of such a high protein diet is that the ponies of Arbu are usually stronger than most ponies. I carried you here.”
“How far did you have to carry me?”
“Only a kilometre or two. Not all that far. Besides, you are lighter than a pony of your size should be.”
“Pegasus composition. My bones are filled with air, making me extremely light. Makes flying easier.”
I found some stairs leading to another floor (Surprise surprise). Fleeing like some time alone would do me good, I walked up said stairs onto the second floor. Being around Red Snow seemed to bring to many life changing situations upon me, and I could only handle so much.

I soon found an old bedroom, rather run down and thoroughly scavenged. There was a bed in the centre of the room, so I took refuge on that, and started to mess around with my PipBuck. I looked in the data section and opened up the radio. It had only every picked up the Stable broadcasts, but the Stable was far behind me now. The wasteland was massive, so I was surprised when I found four different radio signals. I scanned the names and tuned into one named ‘Crystal Clear Radio’.

…owdy wastelanders. It’s me, Mr Noise bring you the news of the wasteland up here in the cold crystal north. Rumours say a unicorn mare form a stable is going around looking for a water processor. That’s right, there’s a functioning Stable out there, and they need help. As for the mare, I would caller her The Stable Dweller, but that names been taken. Instead I’ve heard she’s bein’ called the Wasteland Wanderer, and she’s been wandering ‘round taking out a whole flock of feral ghouls near Parks. In other news, the feral ghouls of Old New Newton have recently been rumoured to let ponies by safely in exchange for bottles of Nuka-cola. And I thought Super Mutants addicted to PTM’s was ridiculous.”
“Anyway, that’s all for now young’un. Now for some music. Here’s an old classic for you, Butcher Pete. Mr Noise out.

With that, a rather perky song about a serial killer came through my PipBuck. So I flick to another channel, which played a smooth jazzy tune. Another played what I thought was an old blues song. Then I tried the last radio station.

This is DJ Pon3, and that was Sweetie Belle, singing about that one great truth of the wasteland: every pony has done something they regret. And now, my little ponies, it’s time for the news! Now you ponies remember when I told you ‘bout those two ponies who crawled themselves out of Stable Two? Well, I’ve been gettin’ reports that one of those little ponies took out the raider nest in the heart of Ponyville, and saved several pony captives -- including the beloved author of The Wasteland Survival Guide, Ditzy Doo! Hey kid, thanks! From all of us! And now the weather: cloudy everywhere, with a chance of rain, gunfire and bloody dismemberment...

I didn’t really focus on the rest of the report. There were more ponies fresh out of the Stables in the Wasteland. But hadn’t Red Snow told me the Stables opened years ago? I flicked my radio off and thought back to the first broadcast. Click had been making quite a name for herself out here in the wasteland. Maybe I should just abandon my quest to find the processor. Then again, if I found it first, and returned to the Stable, I would be treated like a hero, and Click would be left to rot in the wastelands for shooting me. Besides, Click had headed off in the wrong direction when we had split up.

I soon returned to a state of boredom, so I lifted the shard of crystal I had found out of my bag. The shard was about the same size as the one on my necklace, and seemed to be the same colour. I lifted the necklace out of my barding and held it up next to the shard. As I held them near each other, I noticed a faint glow coming from both shards, and so I moved them together slowly. As I did so, the glow got brighter and brighter, until both pieces were touching. A bright flash made me wince, and as my gaze returned to the he crystals, I saw that they had fused. I gave the pieces a few quick tugs, but they didn’t budge. Then I noticed the feelings of luck and strength the individual crystals had given me grew stronger. While this raised more questions, I decided that I had had enough major events for the day and went to sleep.

)))))))(((((((

The first thing I checked when I woke up the next day was that all my limbs were in the right place, and none of my insides were out. The second thing I checked was that the two crystals were still cemented together. A few more quick tugs told me they weren’t separating any time soon. I had only been out of the Stable for a few days and I had already shot myself, found out everything I knew about the past was wrong, befriended a cannibal, been shot by an ally, discovered there were other functioning Stables in the world and learnt that wastelanders were really bad at naming things. So far I had discovered New New Newton, which meant there was both a Newton and a New Newton out there, as well as this Old New Newton. Unless Old New Newton was the original Newton. As a slight headache started to set in, so I stopped thinking and walked back downstairs to join Red Snow, who was eating a can of Cram.

As he had some more wasteland experience then me, I decided to ask him about the whole Newton thing.

“Well, you’ve got Newton, a small town in Equestria. A pony from there came up here and founded New Newton. Somepony thought that was a great idea, and named another town Old New Newton to make it look like they came up with the idea of a New Newton first. Now both towns are overrun with slavers and ghouls respectively. Then there’s New New Newton, which I presume you’ve been too. It was named that in homage to New Newton and Old New Newton. Then there’s New New New Newton, further north, named after New New Newton, and there’s Old New New New Newton, west of New New New Newton, named as a joke. I also think there is a New New New New Newton in the Badlands south of Equestria, and a New New New New New New Old New Newton somewhere in Griffin territory, which means there are a whole lot of Newtons I don’t know about.”

I nodded, now more confused than when I had asked him the question. I pulled out a box of Fancy Buck Snack Cakes, my appetite returning to me like a puppy attached to a boomerang, thrown straight up. The sugary taste of the cereal bombarded my tongue, making me thirsty, so I washed it all down with a bottle of purified water. Feeling refreshed, I was ready to set back out into the wastes. I was going to find the Stable-tec building and find this water processor. If I solved the mystery of the crystal shards, that would be pleasant too. Urgh! Why couldn’t life be as simple outside the Stable as it was inside!

“Are you ready to make a move?” I asked Red Snow, who was drinking some sludgy brown water out of a tap.
“Yeah.” He said, wiping his mouth with a large hoof.
“We are about one day off the reaching the Stable-tec factory. Once there, we’ll locate the water processor. Then return to the Stable. They’ll welcome us like heroes.”
“So we have a plan. Let’s get going. I don’t like the feel of this place.”

We gathered our equipment, packed our saddlebags and then headed back out into the wastes. There was a light snow falling from the ever-present clouds above, and Red Snow had his scarf up over his mouth. One advantage to living in a frozen wasteland was that the meat he stored in his bags would be kept nice and cool. I don’t know how long I would have lasted if I could smell the rotting pony meat. His eyes were covered by his weird goggles that kept snow out and reduced the glare of the sun. He looked quite formidable in all his gear. As we trudged through the thick snow, I checked the condition of my wing. While the area that Click had shot was still quite tender, it had healed enough for me to take to the air once again. I drifted around above Red Snow, enjoying the feeling of freedom that only flying seemed to give me. I had my gun slung around my back, so as to provided minimal interference with the up and down motion of my wings.

From my vantage point in the sky, I could see the remains of another small settlement in the distance, and alerted Red Snow. I then flew ahead to scout it out. I kept a close eye on my PipBuck, seeing no red marks in the direction of the town. I slowed my flight speed as I grew closer to the town, in case there were any trigger happy ponies in the rubble. I looked at the rubble as closely as I could from my vantage point in the sky. Suddenly, a loud crack sounded out of the ruins, and I started to see red marks appearing left, right and centre. With another crack and a flash of light, I felt blinding pain in my recently healed wing, before finding myself falling straight for the ground. I smashed headfirst into a lamp post, and blackness overtook my senses. I hit the ground, and let unconsciousness over take me.

)))))))(((((((

I came too in a basement in a cage. I gave the room a quick survey, and saw three other cages just like mine, all with a pony residing inside. I flicked on the light for my PipBuck, and saw Red Snow in the cage next to me, stripped of his armour and weapons. I noticed then that I two was unprotected and unarmed. The light in my PipBuck didn’t quite reach far enough for me to see the other two ponies. I heard some hoofsteps on stairs above me. A quick look around confirmed that I was in a basement of sorts. A door opened, and a pony in some rag-tag armour made of what looked like street signs entered.

“Ahh, prisoner 003. You’re awake.” He said in a slippery voice that made me feel sick. And violated for some reason.
“Who are you?”
“I am Blackheart, champion slaver of the North! I have captured you, and plan to sell you. As of now, you belong to me.”
“Shut the fuck up, dick.” Came a new voice from another cage. It sounded like a young mare, and in another cage, I saw a pony stir and sit up. “You’re so not the best slaver up here.”
“And what would you know about slavers, filly?” He asked, his slippery voice underlined with frustration.”
“I know that as far as slavers go, you know shit. I still have a screw driver in my tail, and bobby pins through my mane. I you really were the best, you would know that I could pick a lock with those.”
“And can you?” He asked, frustration giving way to shock.
“No.”

The bickering had woken Red Snow, and he slow rose to a sitting position.
“You do realise that once I get out of here, I am going to cook you and eat you.” He threw into the conversation. I think I was the only one there who took him seriously. The slaver and the mare were still arguing about lock picking. Eventually, the pony in the fourth cage woke up.

“I know how to pick locks.” Said Click. My mouth dropped open as she spoke. I had never expected to see her again, and how here we both were, captured by the same group of slavers. Her comment seemed to have finally done it. Blackheart dropped the sicking voice all together as he turned to her.
“Do you have what you need to pick a lock?”
“No, it was all in my bags.”

I felt it was a fine time to put in a comment of my own.
“If you are the best slaver in all of the North, why haven’t I ever heard of you before?”
That seemed to make the slaver regret coming into the room and he made his exit fast. I took this opportunity to tell Click that I was here.

“When we get out of here Click, I am going to shoot you.”
“Oh shit, Octopus. I thought you’d be dead by now for sure.”
“Apologise for shooting me in the wing, and we’ll let bygones be bygones.” I knew if she wanted to, she could kill me faster than I could kill her.
“Naa, I don’t regret it, either.”
“You are a right dick. You know that, right.” I looked at my wing, once again showing up as crippled on my PipBuck. The slavers had wrapped it in some bandages, and from the numb throbbing, given me a hearty dose of Med-X. I suppose there isn’t much use in an injured slave. My ears pricked up as I heard more hoofsteps coming down the stairs. Another slaver in a slightly grander version of the street sign armour came into the room.

“Okay you bitches. I heard you’ve been slamming the newest member of the Blackhearts.” He said, his voice deep and gravely, just radiating danger.
“Yeah, and what you gonna do about it?” Said Click, now sounding impatient.
“Now I’m gonna teach you little fucks how we treat bad slaves. I’m gonna rape you two mares, and I’ll get some mares to rape the stallions. That usually sorts slaves out.”
I gulped. I had never had sex before, and I didn’t want my virginity stolen from me without my consent. Right when I was trying to prepare my body for what was to come, Click came up with something I didn’t expect her to say.

“Oh, yes please. I need a good ploughing.”

She said it without the slightest hint of sarcasm, and I could tell she was being serious. So could the slaver.

“Wait, what? That’s not how disciplinary rape works! You aren’t supposed to want it. Why do you want to be raped?”
“I have spent the past few days stuck in a post-apocalyptic hellhole, I have killed more ponies than I can count, I found out that I was taught a lie about how the world ended, I have shot the only link to my past, who has now found me and threatens revenge and to top it all off, I am held ‘captive’ by the most incompetent slavers in the wastes.”
“Why did you say captive like that?” He asked, growing nervous as his threat backfired.
“Because my pony friend here just gave me her screwdriver and bobby pins, and I am now free of my handcuff, and the door to my cage is unlocked.”
The Slaver pulled a gun, but he was too late. A small green beam flashed from behind Click, blowing his head into oblivion.
“And you forgot to check my tail for weapons.”

))))))))(((((((

Click worked away at my cage door. The lock was rather dodgy, and she was having trouble positioning her bobby pins just right. It had taken some smooth words from Red Snow to get her to release me. I had tried to pull the whole only I have the Stable-tec location on me PipBuck, but she had rebutted that she could just kill me and take my PipBuck. Red Snow. That had shut me up, and try as I might, I couldn’t argue with that logic. I don’t know what Red Snow had said to her to get her to release me, but there she was, opening the door.

“Just to check, was that all true, the whole ‘need a good ploughing’ thing?” I asked her. She had convinced me, but I still didn’t believe my ears.
“Hell no. Even if I did, I wouldn’t let that creep do anything. And, before you ask, no, I would sooner sleep with a cactus than you.”
“That wasn’t the point of the question.” I mumbled lamely.

We stopped bickering when we heard some more hoofsteps on the stairs. This time, there was more than one pony, and we only had two guns between the four of us. Red Snow picked up a long plank of wood from a broken shelf and held it in his mouth, getting ready to attack. The other mare did grabbed the fallen slavers gun. I hid in the corner. The door handle started to move, and the mare started to shoot rounds through the door. Although I couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the door, I could hear the rounds punching through armour and flesh. The door opened, and three slavers ran in, stepping over the two dead bodies in front of the door. Click shot one with the laser pistol, and Red Snow plunged the plank of wood straight through the other two. I hid in the corner. When the room was once again empty of slavers, I quickly ran forward and grabbed the guns off the slavers. I tossed a mean looking pistol to Red Snow, and grabbed a service rifle for myself. I glanced at my E.F.S and saw ten or so red marks swarming around us. There were faint hoofsteps up above, but nopony seemed to be coming down the stairs. I used the peace to grab anything else off the bodies that might prove useful. There was some Med-X, a stimpack and small pile of caps between the six dead slavers.

“They’re waiting upstairs, about ten of them.” Said the mare. How she knew how many there was, I didn’t know, but what she said checked out with my E.F.S. Red Snow crept towards the stairs, the others falling into a single file line behind him, with me bringing up the rear. We reached a small landing in front of the door into the next room. Red Snow indicated for us to press up against the wall as he opened the door and started shooting. He would deliver a few shots before ducking back behind the door. After a couple of shots, the shooting died down and he slipped into the main room, quickly followed by the rest of the group where we found cover behind and upturned desk. There were only four more ponies left, according to my E.F.S, and the mare, soon found two of them and shot them. Red Snow ducked out from behind the desk, he scouted ahead, followed closely by Click. Two more slavers popped up from behind a couch. A quick exchange in fire left the two ponies dead, and my PipBuck clear of red marks, but we weren’t without our wounds.

Red Snow, tried to get up, but a bullet had ripped through his leg, rendering it almost completely useless. I quickly ducked out from the desk and ran to help him. I breathed in deeply, turning all my feathers into sharpened blades. I then plucked one out carefully and used it to scrap the bullet shrapnel out of his leg. I then grabbed the stimpack I had found on the slavers and jabbed it into the wound, administering the healing potion. I then grabbed the bandages off my wing and used them to secure the wound, tying it tightly to stop the bleeding. Once finished, I gave him a jab of Med-X.

He got up slowly, keeping as much weight off his leg as possible.
“What about your wing?” He asked, looking at all the bandages.
“The sniper was using a laser weapon. The heat of the weapon has seared the wound up. It hurts, but I don’t need anything save a stimpack and some Med-X. Both of which I could create if I needed too.”
“A bit of an alchemist, hey?” The Mare asked.
“I suppose so. I’m useless in a fight, but I can fix up almost any gun wound. I’ve seen much worse.”
The mare held out her hoof, so I shook it.
“My name is Orea.” She said.
“I’m Octavius.” I replied. “Orea is a weird name. Where does it originate from?”
“I come from an old Stable down in Equestria. The Stable was solely run by earth ponies, so we didn’t have the fancy unicorn magic. We made machines, and lots of them. Most of the ponies from that Stable are half machine themselves. My name is based on the word ore.” She held up her hoof, and I saw a PipBuck screen on it, but nothing else. Seeing my confusion, she gave a small laugh before explaining.
“My PipBuck has been built into my leg. Killing me instantly disables the device. If a pony kills me, the chances are, the world would be better if they didn’t have a PipBuck.”

Click returned to use, with some gear off the dead raiders. She was also floating all our gear alongside her. Everypony grabbed their gear and slipped it back on. I pulled apart my old rifle, and the slavers service rifle, and replaced bits and pieces until I was left with one weapon in much better condition. I slung my new weapon on my back, as the rest of the group finished slipping into scarves and jumpers.

“So, now we just need to find the Stable-tec facility.” Click said as we walked outside. “Where is it, Octopus.”
I pointed in the direction of the facility with my good wing, keeping my bad one tight against my body. I didn’t want anypony to start taking pot-shots at it again. Click started to walk off, followed by Orea, them myself and Red Snow.

)))))))(((((((

We had been walking for under an hour when the snow started to pick up. Ten minutes later, it had started to get really heavy. We had sought shelter in a cave inhabited by some bloatsprites, which Red Snow was now cooking over a small fire. I don’t know how he started them, as there wasn’t any kindling in the cave, and he didn’t have matches, but he seemed to be able to make them whenever he wanted to. Orea had started working on her weapon and was completely silent. Click was sleeping. And me? I was sitting there doing nothing, bored out of my skull. I had already fixed my weapon up as best as I could. I found a small rock and was now rolling it around under my hoof, making a circle on the ground. I threw the rock up and caught it a couple of times. I drew more circles. I held it up to my eyes and stared at it. I threw it at a wall. As it wasn’t bouncy, the rock hit the wall and fell to the ground. I was now without my rock. I glanced over at Red Snow, who was now taking the bloatsprite off the fire. He tossed me a piece.
“Try it. It has a weird texture at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

I put the small chunk of radiated meat in my mouth and chewed. It wasn’t the best food I had ever eaten, but it wasn’t the worst either. It had a chewy consistency, most unlike the crunch of cereal or the juiciness of an apple. I swallowed it and found myself wanting more. I could see why Red Snow liked it. I wouldn’t be able to live off it alone, but if I had no choice I wouldn’t complain. Red Snow grinned at me and chucked me another slab. This time I ate it with a bit more gusto, enjoying the different taste and texture. The radiation counter on my PipBuck rose fractionally, but a small sip of RadAway would solve that problem if it got out of hand.

“Orea, would you like some bloatsprite.” Red Snow asked the silent pony.
“Naa, I’m not a huge fan of meat. Besides, all I need is a new Electron Charge Pack, and my body runs itself. No need to sleep or eat.”

I found myself once again amazed at what the wasteland could throw at a pony. A little under a week ago, I had been a loner who drunk his nights away at a poker table. Now I had just found out that there are ponies that ran on electricity. Or something like that. I wasn’t sure how Electron Charge Packs, or ECP, worked. I had never really slowed down enough to appreciate how different the wastes were to the Stable. Down in the Stable, life followed a very routine pattern. Go to work, work, eat, go home, sleep, wake up, work. Never varying, except for on the occasional holidays that the Overmare would throw. I had never faced anything bigger than small gangs of bullies. Having wings, I could just fly away from them. But up here, a pony’s life was constantly in danger. There were monstrous animals out in the open, raiders and slavers in the ruins of towns, these feral ghoul things and probably much more that I hadn’t even heard of. My best friend was a cannibal, my worst enemy had saved my life, I had met a cyborg pony. I had even been captured by slaves. All in a matter of days. I hadn’t even really appreciated the true splendour for New New Newton. A town built out of the ruins of an old town. To salvage that much scrape must have taken years. And to put it all together would have taken decades. The walkways between the shops on the upper levels, the structural support needed to secure the buildings, the feeling of safety the place gave you. I realised that I had never felt as safe in the wasteland as I had there. But I was too swept up in other things to notice.

I also realised how lucky I was that I had met Red Snow. He had the know-how of the wasteland that I didn’t. He was experienced. He had also saved my life more than once. I was useless with a gun, but he had years of experience. Then there was Click. Good with guns and locks. She had been out of the Stable for the same period of time as I had, and already achieved so much more. She had made a name for herself taking out slavers. She had even been given a nickname. Orea I didn’t know much about, but she had proved to have survival knowledge. She also seemed to know her way around a weapon, as she was proving right now, pulling apart multiple guns to not only replace parts, but to add and modify her weapons. And then there was me. A musician and medic who was out of his zone. I wasn’t a fighter, and couldn’t even use a gun properly. I had shot myself the first time I tried to fight. I was a coward, as I had proven to myself in the last battle. I had hidden while the others fought. It felt like I was just a sentient bottle of hydra, or a stimpack. At least stimpacks didn’t need food, or medical attention and could be stored in a saddlebag. I was drowning in a tide of uselessness. Now I had time to sit down and think, I realised that my friends would probably do just as well without me. I couldn’t even fly at the moment.

I pulled out one of the flasks of vodka Bluebuck had given me and started to drink. I didn’t have a particularly high alcohol tolerance, and I knew that half of the flask would get me quiet drunk. The whole thing should knock me out for a good few hours. This in mind, I guzzled about three quarters of the bottle. My head felt lighter, and my mind felt brighter. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

)))))))(((((((

My body felt dead and my head felt like my brain was trying to rip it apart from the inside. I dug through my bags to see if I had packed any of my hangover pills, but none surfaced. I glanced outside the cave to see the snow still falling thick. Red Snow and Click were fast asleep near the back of the cave, and Orea was sitting near the exit, looking out into the blizzard. With nothing left to do, I went and sat next to her.

“Drinking is never a good idea when you’re not in a safe town.” She said, not even shifting her gaze.
“I was having a mid-life crisis.” I replied, holding my head to try and keep my brain in place.
“You don’t look that old.”
“I’m not. But at this rate, I’m going to die before too long.”
“With that attitude, probably.”

I didn’t know too much about this half robot mare, and decided now would be the time to get to know her. The others were sleeping and with the blizzard we wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.
“So, Orea. What’s your story?”
“What’s to tell? I came from a Stable, I wandered the wastes. I heard of a mysterious land up north and came to investigate. Here I am, in the cold frozen north.”
“That’s a short story. Any other details?”
“Not really.”
“How did you come to get caught by slavers?”
“I met Click in a town called Grassy Hill. My life had basically come to a stop in the town, so I jumped on the opportunity to get back out there. One thing I have found is that us Stable folk have a stronger sense of wrong and right. I felt bad sitting around doing nothing. So I started to go with her. We took out some slaver nests, fought feral ghouls, then one night found ourselves helping a small child before BAM, we get ambushed by some slavers. We would have won the fight, but they had sleeping darts with something powerful on them. We got knocked out, then woke up in that building. You know the rest of that story.”
“You speak very little.” I observed.
“I don’t really feel the need to talk to often. I can usually sum up a whole plan into a sentence. If I don’t need to talk, I won’t. I am in a bit of a chatty mood at the moment, however.”
“I feel like you’re not telling me something.” I pried.
“Well, if you must know. I find that I often say too much if I am not careful. Got me in heaps of trouble in the Stable. It wouldn’t have been much of a problem, but most ponies there interpreted the thing I said as ‘overly sexually oriented’ for my age. I didn’t even know how ponies had sex until I was well out of school. I was never the dirty minded one, it was everypony else.”
I blinked slowly, a universal sign for not understanding. She took the hint.

“When I was a young filly, I always loved words. I knew so many. I had read the Stable dictionary so many time, just looking for words I could spring in everyday conversation. But as you know, many of these word have been given other meanings. My Stable seemed to like making up slang for sex and such. There are only so many combinations of vowels and consonants that work together, and so these slang terms were also often words with completely different meanings. If a pony asked you what you were having for lunch and you said sandwich, then instantly everypony assumed you were making some kind of sexual joke. I don’t even get half of the jokes they made. I was often falling into the trap of saying the wrong things, and ponies would laugh at me. So I just stopped talking when I didn’t need to and chose my words carefully when I did. That strategy hasn’t failed me yet.”

She looked over at me, eyebrow raised.
“What’s your story?”
“Me? Well, I come from a Stable where we were taught that a disease wiped out Equestria and…”
“I already know all that. What’s your story? I grew up in a Stable filled with only earth ponies, but I know that even in a normal Stable, and pegasus isn’t an everyday occurrence.”
“Well, I was born a Pegasi, and having been getting shit about it since. I was bullied as a child by most, including Click. Many ponies in the Stable grew up being taught that the Pegasi abandoned all ponies, and the end of the world is their fault. I don’t think the ponies at Stable-tec considered the idea that a pegasus might be born in the Stable. One day, the water processor broke, and I was voted to leave the Stable to find a new one. I had never felt so free. But now, I realise that I left of shithole for another.”

I looked out at the cloudy sky. The blizzard had slowed down and was now just a gentle snowfall. The snow had taken a dark shade of blue in the shreds of moonlight that made it through the clouds. It was three in the morning according to my PipBuck. When the sun rose and lit the wastes to the best of its ability, then we would continue to the Stable-tec facility. It was only a few kilometres from our cave. We would be able to get there and find the processor tomorrow, then make our way back to the Stable. We would be greeted as heroes.

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Author's Note:

Level 3: Experience 755/800

(I don’t own the rights to Fallout or MLP. These right belong to Hasbro and Bethesda/Obsidian games. Also huge thanks to Kkat for writing the original FOE.)

(Note added 15-2-2015: Hi. I looked at the like to dislike ratio of this story and saw that it was 5-2. So I read through the book to see what went wrong and I realized something. This story is actually not that great. I probably would have disliked it as well. I tried to much too soon, so I shall give it a break until I can fully upgrade the book. Cheers.)

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