//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Hush Now, Quiet Now // by DBoS //------------------------------// Well, after my little procrastination episode, here you go, the third chapter of Hush Now, Quiet Now. Enjoy! The first thing William heard when he came to was the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. Each heartbeat sounded like the waves of the Potomac on a windy day; loud, yet calming at the same time. The noise would’ve been enough to lull the Lone Wanderer back to sleep, had the sudden nerve wracking pain throughout his body not jolted him awake. His eyelids slowly cracked opened, and he was met with blinding white light that forced him to shut his eyes, almost as though he were staring directly into the sun. He tried to move his hand up to his face to shield his eyes from whatever light, but when he tried to move his arms, they exploded with a stinging pain that not even the radscorpions could match with their tails. William screamed out in pain, but it came out more like a whimper. His throat was dry like the arid soil of the Wasteland, and it almost hurt him to breathe. He needed water, and he didn’t care if it was the irradiated crap from the river or toxic sludge from a toilet; just as long as it could quench his thirst. He could hear voices amidst the beating heart in his ears, but he couldn’t make out their gender or what they were saying. He didn’t bother questioning; he really needed that drink. He breathed out slowly, the puff of air scratching his parched throat, before letting out in a quiet voice, “W-water…” He waited for a few moments, wondering if anyone was listening. William could still hear the voices, but he couldn’t make out where they were, nor if they heard him. He began wondering whether or not he was actually getting the help he needed. He had no idea where he was, but there were a few theories. Best case scenario, he was found by the Brotherhood or maybe even someone from Rivet City. Another scene flashed through his mind: a pack of slavers had found him and were taking him to Paradise Falls, where he would be sold to someone in need of unquestioning help, if he were lucky. Maybe he was a captive of the Super Mutants, forced to go to wherever it was they were sent to be eaten…or worse. He immediately brushed the last two scenes off the list. He doubted that slavers and Super Mutants would be kind enough to let him lay on a soft bed. Nonetheless, there was still the possibility that something—or rather, someone—had found him…like the Enclave… Of course, his fears vanished when he felt something broad tap his shoulder, and a young voice—female, he noted, now that the pulsing in his ears had lessened—said in an eerily happy tone, “Here you go!” William opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light, before focusing on the clear glass held out in front of him, filled with the beverage that he had always taken for granted back in the Vault. All of a sudden, William noticed nothing else but the glass of water in front of him. The pink quilt draped over his body wasn’t an important detail, nor was the fact that he was in a clean, cozy bedroom. He didn’t even bother noticing that the glass was held in a pink hoof. Slowly raising his arms, gritting his teeth at the pain, William reached out for the glass and gripped it between his bandaged palms. He recoiled as soon as he touched the cool glass through the gauze, but he grabbed the cup with both hands and steadily moved it up to his face. The pain in his trembling arms began to lessen to a dull throb as he moved the glass up to his lips and took a deep gulp of the drink. Moving the water away from his face, his throat now cooled and quenched, he muttered in a quiet voice, “It’s…it’s clean…” All of a sudden, the corners of his mouth tugged into a grin, and raspy laughter escaped from his lungs, starting off quiet, but slowly gaining volume. The glass fell out of his hand, landing on the floor with the water spilling out. “You did it, Dad,” he cheered weakly, the overjoyed tone evident even through his hushed voice. As he carried on, he felt a few tears threaten to burst out of the corners of his eyes. He felt no need to hold them back. “We did it,” he continued, chuckling behind his now flowing tears. “Project Purity was a success.” He would've just laid there where he was, oblivious to his surroundings in his incoherent state, until he heard a childish female voice, the same one he heard before he had taken the glass of water, ask, “What’s Project Purity?” William’s giggling fit quieted down, and he turned his head to the source of the voice as he asked sarcastically, “Do you live under a ro--” Before he could get his snide remark across, he clamped his mouth shut, unsure of what to make of the creature before him. It looked almost like a tiny horse, like the ones on those Giddyup Buttercup posters he would find out in the D.C. Ruins. This, however, looked like no robot horse he had ever seen. The first thing he noticed was the overabundance of pink; pink furry body, pink frizzy mane, and a pink tail as curly as its hair. Its large eyes, taking up less than half of its face, were a brilliant blue, filled with a scary sense of happiness. Looking the creature up and down, William noticed a small mark on its flank shaped like a trio of balloons, colored blue and yellow in contrast to the pink fur. The horse’s smile – a wide, sweet smile that somehow sent shudders up William’s spine – changed to a look of mild curiosity as it, err, she asked him in an almost childish voice, “Are you okay?” William didn't answer immediately; actually, he didn't answer at all. Many questions began running through his mind, most of them simply along the lines of “This horse is talking. Why is it talking?” Of course, the pink…pony didn't seem to mind his silence. In fact, she took that as the cue to keep going, asking him whether or not he liked parties or if he had ever heard of something called a ‘chimicherry’, this of course leading to a back-and-forth with herself saying that it could also be called a ‘cherrychanga.’ “Ooh, ooh,” she went on, apparently oblivious to the look of extreme bewilderment (at best) on William’s face. “It could always be called a chimicherrycha--” Her extensive speech was cut off, thankfully, by a purple hoof almost comically rammed into her mouth. “Pinkie,” a stern female voice called out, apparently referring to the pink pony. “You’re not exactly helping right now!” William traced the hoof back to another vibrant pony, this one a deep violet with eyes to match. Her mane and tail, unlike those of ‘Pinkie’, were well-kept and straight, and they were colored a darker shade of purple with a pinkish-red stripe running down the middle. Like the pink pony, she also had a mark on its rear – a magenta six-pointed star surrounded by smaller white stars of the same shape. Her most noticeable feature, however, was the short purple horn that stuck out from behind her front bangs. As if a talking pink pony weren’t enough to mess with William’s mind; a talking unicorn was enough to have the Lone Wanderer question his sanity entirely. “I’m very sorry about Pinkie,” the unicorn apologized, a look of what William perceived to be anxious sympathy on her face. “She’s really excited about the whole…situation.” He nodded slowly, still a little shellshocked from the whole situation, but he was caught off-guard by a cool breeze brushing the side of his face. The sudden drop in the temperature was another surprise; on a cool day, the Capital Wasteland was around 85 degrees Fahrenheit, even with the wind blowing. Ignoring the searing pain in his back, William pushed himself upright and turned his head to look out the window. The first thing he saw was the medieval-style cottages that seemed to make up something much bigger than the average wasteland settlement. Hell, by wasteland standards, a place this big could actually be considered a city. Out in the distance, he could see the tan roofs cover the area, and up close, the buildings looked pristine and well-kept, a large difference from the rundown buildings and makeshift shacks of the wastes. However, just beyond the rooftops, something caught his attention, something that he’d never thought he’d see back in the Capital Wasteland: trees. He remembered seeing the blackened husks of what used to be tree trunks during his travels throughout the wasteland, but he had never thought he’d see one with actual green on top. Sure, he heard Three Dog’s talk on finding some place that he called “a veritable oasis of green in that depressing sea of brown,” but considering that he added that he saw it years back when he was using Jet, William didn’t give it much credibility. Now, here he was, staring out at the lush green forest out in the distance. Could this be the place that Three Dog had talked about? His shock and amazement only grew when he looked out further into the distance, towards the vast mountain ranges – there were hardly any mountains in the Capital Wasteland, especially those that towered that high. There, perched precariously on the mountain’s side, was a majestic castle. William couldn’t find any way to perfectly describe the sight before him, only that, even from the great distance, it left him in awe. From what William knew about America’s history, it was controlled by a monarchy back in the 18th century, but it was never a monarchy itself. Then…did that mean… The sound of a clearing throat brought William back, and he turned to face the same purple unicorn that had spoken to him only a minute ago. William noted her nervousness as she offered, “I, um, I was hoping we could get to know each other before…well, before things get really awkward.” William could only nod dumbly before turning his attention back to the view outside. He still couldn’t believe what was beyond that window, and he rubbed his eyes with a bandaged wrist to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating. Sure enough, the sight before him remained the same. A small flash of movement down below caught his eye, and he peered downward to the street just outside the window. Two more ponies were trotting along, unaware of the fact that William was watching them from up above. One was pale blue with a blue-and-white mane and tail. An hourglass mark adorned her flank. The other was purple with a darker mane-tail setup, and the mark on her rear was, from what William could make out, a bushel of grapes and a strawberry. The Lone Wanderer brought his head back in through the window and ran a bandaged hand over his forehead. What happened back at Project Purity that led to, well, this? He closed his eyes and played back those last few minutes. Running up the stairs. Stepping into the irradiated chamber. The first airlock door closing shut. The other sliding open. Entering the code… His mind suddenly went blank. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t exactly remember what happened. He knew for a fact that he entered the code; the image of his fingers pressing 2-1-6 was still clear in his head, but everything afterward was too smudged to be considered a blur. What happened after he punched in the code? What happened when he pressed the enter key? “Is everything alright?” the unicorn asked, worry heavy in her voice. William flinched, but he immediately relaxed as he turned his attention to the violet pony. He nodded numbly before answering, “Y-yeah. I’m just…just surprised, is all.” That was just an understatement, of course; it took a great deal of William’s willpower not to panic. Only yesterday or the day before, he had traversed through the barren wasteland from Raven Rock all the way down to the Citadel with only a few hours of sleep, two bottles of Nuka-Cola, and a slab of brahmin steak. Now, he was laying in a soft—albeit cramped—bed in some sort of…he didn’t really want to say it, but ‘pony utopia’ could be the only way to describe his surroundings. His attention was grabbed once again by the unicorn as she said, “Allow me to introduce myself; I’m Twilight, Twilight Sparkle.” The now introduced ‘Twilight Sparkle’ raised a hoof up to her pink counterpart and introduced her as ‘Pinkie Pie’, who in turn gave the wanderer a giant grin. “And this is my--” Twilight began, but she froze when she looked down at the empty spot between her and Pinkie. “Where’d Spike go?” Spike? William thought, raising an eyebrow. Even if they were sentient, I wouldn’t have pegged them to have dogs. =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ Meanwhile, in an apple orchard not too far away, a certain orange cowpony was leaning against a large apple tree, resting comfortably in the shade. The stetson atop her blonde mane rested comfortably over her brow, shielding her eyes from the slivers of sunlight. She was just dozing off before she jerked her head with a sudden sneeze. Sniffing a couple of times, Applejack muttered under her breath, “It ain’t like me ta be havin’ allergies all of a sudden.” The mare waited for a few seconds, and once she was sure that no other sneeze was coming, she shifted the stetson back and dozed off once more. =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ “Found him!” Pinkie called out, her head sticking under the bed on which William was laying. “Pinkie, no!” a frantic voice called out—male this time, William noticed—as the pink pony reached her head further in. Something jumped around under the mattress, making the Lone Wanderer bounce around where he sat. After a few seconds, Pinkie pulled her head out from the bed with her teeth clamped onto…was that a…dragon? William could only stare at the “dragon” as it flailed around, trying to get its tail free from the pony’s jaws. Its scales were violet, almost matching Twilight’s coat. A pair of neon-green fins was adorned on the sides of its face, and a row of dark-green ridges lined its spine. Eventually, the lizard-thing gave up its struggle and dangled just over the floor, its arms high above (or low below; whichever) its head, and William could see the fear in its eyes. “Whatever you’re gonna do,” the dragon started, its voice shrinking to a whisper. “At least make it painless.” William didn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully, though, he didn’t have to; the purple unicorn just shrugged and said, “Spike, if he were going to hurt us, he would’ve done it already.” She then turned back to the wanderer and said, “Sorry about that. He’s been a little jumpy with all that’s happened.” The Lone Wander nodded his head slowly as he muttered, “It’s okay…I get where he’s coming from.” Seeing Spike’s fearful gaze made William think back to when he first left the Vault. The scorching heat of the dusty wasteland, the sand that stung his eyes as it billowed in the hot breeze. He remembered the stories he was told, about “topside” as he and the other Vault Dwellers called it. Most stories said that it was a constant warzone, rampant with bloodthirsty mutant creatures and crazed lunatics looking for their next kill. Others said that the world above was one where life continued; where the survivors of the Great War went on to rebuild society and turn the world into one where people wouldn’t have to fight anymore. William would later find out that each side was equally right and wrong. Still, he felt that he should’ve been amazed, or even shocked, at the bleakness of the outside world, but with all that had happened to him within the past hour, with his father leaving Vault 101 and himself essentially becoming a wanted criminal in the eyes of the Overseer, he was numb to the initial surprise of being outside for the first time in his life. His hands shook at his sides, still unclean from the blood he had spilt. Those guards…some of them used to be friends of his father’s…but he had to… The reality of the situation was too much for William to bear. Taking a human life was nothing like killing radroaches; a radroach was simply an insect made bigger from the mutations of the irradiated topside and nothing more, but humans…humans were much more valuable. How many guards had he killed? How many lives did he ruin by his own hand? They tried to kill me, he thought to himself, hoping to ease the burden on his conscience. I was only trying to protect myself. Despite his attempts to justify his own actions, the pressure of reality cause William’s knees to buckle, and he fell to the ground on all fours. Tears fell from his eyes and onto the sandy rock under his hands, each drop finely coated with a thin layer of dirt. It doesn’t matter how I look at it, he thought sullenly, tears flowing freely with his sorrowful sobs. Those people died, and now I’m a murderer. That’s all there is to it. William felt something solid press down on his shoulder, bringing him back to the bedroom in which he woke. “Is something wrong?” he heard Twilight ask, worry heavy in her voice. He turned to meet the purple unicorn’s soft gaze and, in almost a whisper, answered, “It’s nothing…just a memory.” It wasn’t as though it was anything he truly wanted to keep with him until the day he died, but then again, He didn’t want to tell everything to these ponies just yet. His life-changing, albeit short, time in the Capital Wasteland had at least taught him one valuable lesson: Don’t be too quick to trust. Yet, these ponies helped him. With the bandaging that covered his torso and the fact that he could smell some kind of antiseptic, they obviously helped with his injuries. Moreover, they made sure he was comfortable, and from what he could tell, they didn’t seem to want anything in return. In the Capital Wasteland, if someone were to lay dying in the middle of the ground, and someone walked past, one of three things would happen: they would walk on like nothing was even there, they would help the one in need in exchange for caps (which, if the wastelander were poor, would lead to the first scenario), or they would put the dying wastelander out of their misery with a single bash or bullet. Then again, William thought, looking at the castle far outside the window. I’m not in the wasteland anymore, am I? “Well,” Twilight went on, a small smile gracing her face. “You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.” William simply nodded, leaning slightly forward. His back hissed in pain, but it was slightly more bearable than it was a few minutes ago. The only other thing distracting him from the pain, other than the nature of his hospitable “caretakers”, was the calming sensation of the cool breeze on his bare skin. Unfortunately, the breeze carried more than just his tension. Twilight opened her mouth to say something, but her face contorted to that of disgust as she recoiled away from the Lone Wanderer, gagged and waving her foreleg over her face. Spike and Pinkie immediately followed suit, waving away whatever offensive stench that had penetrated their nostrils. “No offense,” Twilight started, her foreleg covering her muzzle, “but you’re kind of, well…” She paused and looked down at the floor, thinking of a way to keep the conversation tact. Spike, however, was not as considerate. “You reek to high Heaven,” the little dragon cried out, his voice muffled by both claws covering his face. “Seriously, my eyes are burning!” Twilight glared down at the dragon next to her, silently berating him for his rudeness, before William spoke up, “Sorry. It’s just that, with all I went through, I never really found a chance to bathe.” Twilight opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off when Pinkie bounced to William’s bedside, knocking the purple unicorn out of the way. “Well then we need to get you cleaned up,” Pinkie chirped, a wide toothy grin plastered on her face. “We can’t have you walking around town stinking up the place, now can we?” The pink pony didn’t even give William a chance to answer as she skipped to what he guessed was the bathroom. He heard the squeaking of the valves and the telltale stream of water as it flowed into the tub. William chose that moment to get out of bed. He slowly slid his legs off the side of the bed and planted his feet onto the cool hardwood floor. His head throbbed before he could even push himself onto his feet, but the ever-present sting in his arms disallowed whatever minor comfort his hands could give him. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, eyes clenched tightly as he tried to push the ache back. “If you need any help, I can--” Twilight began to offer, but she was promptly cut off as William cleared his throat, looking down at the purple unicorn with a neutral gaze. “It’s fine,” he croaked. “I just need to…get my bearings.” He then pushed himself off the bed and stood upright, his head only a foot from touching the ceiling. He felt the blanket slide off his legs, and he was immediately aware of something missing… Something important… “That’s…a weird place for his horn,” Spike muttered, and his vision was immediately cut off by a blushing Twilight’s hoof. Just to clear things up, since Spike is always described as a "baby" dragon, I figured he would still be uninformed of "the talk," despite being surrounded by ponies that are always in the buff.