Since the dawn of recorded time, in one town of amazing amazingness, three types of ponies co-exist.

Chapter 5: Trottingham

I found, despite my usual destain for others, that I was rather enjoying John’s company as he walked me to Trottingham. He was a strong solider, but loved to laugh and joke. Aside from that, he was no slouch with his twin rifles. He could beam a radroach that I couldn’t have hit with S.A.T.S. He at least knew his way around guns more than I did.

It didn’t seem to take long before we reached Trottingham. My leg was feeling back to 100%, and I felt confident in my assessment of John as an army medic. When we reached Trottingham, I half expected him to leave or demand my goods anyway, but he didn’t. He merely turned to me, eyeing me for a long moment.

“You know,” he said. “I don’t think it’s right to turn you lose until you can at least shoot a barn door without missing.”

“But…”

I couldn’t say anything else, because he was right… I couldn’t shoot. He took me out behind a saloon and indicated several bottles. I took notice of the fact they were labeled as sunset sarsaparilla, and cocked my head, curious.

“You want me to drink these?”

John actually fell over laughing.

“No! I want you to shoot them! Here, take this. I found it in the old school house on the hill there. It’s old, but should fire true enough for you.”

I levitated the rifle in front of me and took aim at the first bottle. I missed, badly.

“Too high,” John said softly. “Try holding your breath right before you fire, keeps your eyesight steady.”

I took aim again, cocking the rifle. I picked my target and held my breath, firing. The bottle shattered into a thousand pieces.

“There it is!” said John, happily. “Now, take down two more, fast as you can.”

Pop! Pop!

Two more bottles shattered due to the little rifle.

“Cool!” I said, genuinely happy with my progress.

“Good job!” John said, genuinely. “You might be a decent shot if you keep practicing. Tell you what, Sherclop. I could actually use a good hand clearing some of the damn radgators off our water source here.”

“Radgators?”

“Yeah the radiation turned them all into right pains. You up for a it?”

I owed John this much, and even if I didn’t, I was interested in working with this particular pony. John led me out of Trottingham to a small outcropping that had a large water well and troth ready for ponies to come and drink. I was surprised when my pipbuck boasted no radiation in the water.

“How do you have pure water?” I asked. “I always learned that natural sources of water were ruined by the megaspells.”

“You’d be right,” said John. “We found one pony who was out of her mind smart, almost like you. She said she could find an abandoned stable and get one of those water talismans for us. It would give us clean water for however long we should need it. She didn’t even want to be paid for it or anything. I thought it was a bit odd, but I wasn’t going to complain.”

“Some stables are abandoned?”

“Lots of them, from what I hear. You’re the first proper stable pony I’ve met, mind. Was yours still working?”

“Like a charm,” I said. “Well… the stable part anyway. We were going to have a problem with the gene pool in another generation… two at the most.”

“Is that why you left?”

“…Not really… My sister… It’s a bit complicated.”

It wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I trusted John yet,. and I didn’t want to just go around blabbing my story at the time. I was still too new to the wasteland to be able to defend myself properly. I could tell that John wanted to press me about Myclop anyway, but he decided against it.

“Well, here you go. Let’s see what you got against a living target!”

John took to the air, completely silent. I crotched down low and snuck up to the well until my E.F.S. lit up. I looked down and saw two large radgators, and they hadn’t noticed me yet. I took aim at the closest one, and held my breath.

Pop pop!

I hit it dead on the head, killing it. Unable to help myself I whooped happily, alerting the other one as to my exact location. It came moving right for me, as if some terrifying huge snake.

I aimed again.

Pop!

Miss.

Pop!

Hit, right in the snout, but it didn’t care enough to stop charging. Desperate not to be munched on, I hit S.A.T.S. and targeted the thing’s head twice. At this distance it was almost impossible to miss.

Pop! Pop!

The radgator lay dead at my feet.

John landed next to me, smiling softly.

“Congratulations, you just laid your first ambush! Next time, I suggest not celebrating until they're all dead though.”

Despite myself, I laughed. This small charcoal pegasus was a very odd type, but I liked him. He was good, and had saved my life.

“That all?”

“No way, we got two more to clear away here. You up for it?”

I nodded, reloading the rifle. John pointed out the next well to me and flew off to clear the third on his own. Heading to the marker my pipbuck had so helpfully placed, I saw three more of the little bastards cluttered around the watering hole.

I crotched down low and took aim, holding my breath again.

Pop!

Headshot, instant kill. I controlled my urge to cheer, and took aim again.

Pop! Pop!

The second one went down. The last descended on me as I was catching my breath again. It swung its massive tail at me, knocking the rifle from my telekinetic grip. Luckily, I still had my hooves, and I beat its face in with my arms.

Stretching, I took a sip of the water in the troth and frowned as more little red blips showed on my E.F.S. I looked over the lip of a small hill and saw and young mare being cornered by three radgators. I acted on instinct, pulling out my zebra blade I slide down the hill, yelling to get their attention.

And I got it.

All three turned to me, and I slit one clean in half as I reached them. I hit S.A.T.S. and carved the next one open, spraying more blood over myself. The last hit me in the face, but only gave me small scratches. I stabbed it clean through, and I heard the spine snap as I grinned to myself.

The mare I had rescued stood there, breathing hard and eyeing me warily. It occurred to me that this was not very different from when I’d met John, and I looked at her, trying to assess if she’d been damaged.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

“No, thanks to you!” she said brightly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said dryly. “You’d best get back into Trottingham and make sure you don’t have any lasting damage.”

She nodded and opened her saddlebags, placing a canteen in front of me.

“I was coming up here to fill this, but I think you should have it.”

I opened my muzzle to protest that I was fine and didn’t need the drink, but she turned and head back towards the town without a word. As I head back up the hill, reclaiming my rifle, John slowly landed in front of me. It infuriated me how little noise his wings made. I couldn’t hear them at all, and he could move so quickly with them.

“Well that was pretty good, even got a bit exciting at the end there!”

I looked at him confused.

“That pony was almost hurt though,” I said.

“Who? Wither-run? Oh, trust me, she’s a lot tougher than she looks, and I’m no slop with my medicine. She wasn’t in much danger.”

I nodded, I kept forgetting that John knew the wasteland and its ponies far better than I did. John walked me back to Trottingham. On the way back I explained Terminal theory to him and he took a vested interest in it. I was surprised to find he understood and followed what I was saying, instead of just giving me a blank stare as I usually got in Stable 221.

After we reached the town, John showed me into a little bar happily labeled Three-Legged Horse. I sat in stunned silence at the sign for a very long moment.

“Don’t worry,” said John. “There’s not actually a three-legged horse inside.”

I listened to him and entered, despite my reservations. Inside was a dusty old bar, with a few ponies scattered throughout and one very motherly pony behind the bar. She was starting to show the early signs of aging, but had plenty of pluck about her, and it was easy to see just from her face that she wasn’t going to keel over anytime soon from sickness.

She smiled happily at John and I as we walked in.

“Hello there John!” she said beaming. “Who’s this young unicorn friend of yours?”

“Sherclop Pones,” I said, eyeing her wearily.

“What, like that stallion in the kid’s stories?”

I suppressed the urge to snare. I hate being compared to my namesake, no matter how much we may seem alike.

“Yes,” I hissed. “Like the stallion in the storybooks.”

“Oh dear,” she said, laughing lightly. “Don’t be angry with me. It’s a habit of mine, I’m afraid. Can’t help but say what pops into my head.”

“Sherclop,” said John, smiling. “This is one of the finest mares in all of the crystal wastelands, Miss Butter Cake! She’s a descendant of some of the finest bakers that ever did live in Equestria… before the war anyhow.”

“Oh you,” she said, battering an eye at John.

I was impressed with his use of flattery. John was a sweet-talker, and no mistake about it. I was quite sure if she were just a year or two younger, she may have full-on made a pass at him… might have already now that I thought about it.

“Get my friend here whatever he wants, my treat,” said John, smiling at me.

“Sure thing. I’ll even give you boys a discount, seeing all John’s done for us over the years and how you boys rescued Wither-run earlier.”

I saw that the menu boasted ice-cold Sparkle-Cola and ordered one. John got one for himself and together we drank, enjoying the carroty flavor of the drinks. Butter Cake walked over to a radio that was hissing static, and pounded on the top of it a couple times, trying to get it to behave properly.

I looked at it curiously. Sure I wasn’t an expert, but I had done several small repairs on doors in Stable 221, so how hard could a radio be? I walked forward, and popped off the front of the radio.

“Let me,” I said, peeking inside.

It honestly wasn’t so complicated and after about 30 seconds I had it playing out a delightful little tune.

“Well I’ll say,” said Butter Cake. “I may not be able to get rid of you boys if you keep being so helpful ‘round here.”

I found myself smiling at her words. I wasn’t used to being received so warmly. In the stable I was hated because of Myclop, but here… These ponies liked me… at least a little. I went back to my drink and John gave my a sly wink, and I had the uncomfortable feeling he knew where my thoughts lay.

For several hours, we sat talking, and I told him things I wouldn’t have normally told anypony. I shared stories of being in the stable, and fights with my father. John grew furious when I mentioned that I had to fight him.

“That’s a shit thing to do to your kid,” he muttered.

“Well it eventually got a little better after he… After a bit.”

“After he?” John asked pointedly.

I didn’t like this part. Shamed as I was by what had happened to my mother, Myclop and I didn’t talk about about what father had done to me; but John was curious and was a good friend to me. He deserved his answer.

“Father beat me pretty bad one night in the stable… and I suffered a bit of brain damage.”

“What!?” John shouted banging the bar angrily.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Seriously. I recovered well enough… considering. It’s just that I’ve always been just a little bit slower than Myclop because of it.”

“Wait… so as smart as you are… you’re… injured?”

I smiled at his desire to skirt around my damage.

“Only mildly,” I said. “I’m still within the top .1% percentile in the stable.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” John hissed. “Sorry for saying, Sherclop, but your father’s a right bastard, and I’d have half a mind to beat him myself.”

“I don’t mind your saying. So what about you?”

John told me stories about his days in the Enclave. About how he’d met his teacher in the army and had learned all there was to learn from him. By the time John was doing his first tour, he’d already become a champion flier. No one he’d ever met in the enclave was faster.

“But then they had me do a run down to the surface,” he said. “And I saw some bad things down here, especially from the Legionnaires. I couldn’t stand it. So, my first night on the surface, I stole away from my company and killed a band of them. When my unit saw what I’d done, they brought me back as a prisoner, giving me my mark. After that, I decided I might as well do what I could to help your lot out.”

“That’s a pretty monstrous thing to do your own,” I said, pointing at the brand.

John laughed, and with a genuine chuckle.

“At first, I would’ve agreed with you, but honestly, I like it. I reminds me of what I fight for and keeps me on the right path, instead of having me torn between the enclave and the surface ponies. I prefer this to the enclave any day. At least here what I’m doing matters. I’m helping ponies, you know?”

“Of course,” I said, taking another sip.

Several hours we spent, just talking. Until the door to the bar was kicked open and a pony wearing make-shift battle barding strode in, and pointed angrily at Butter Cake.

“You!” he said. “I need to talk to you.”