//------------------------------// // The Odd Pony Out // Story: Fallout: Equestria - The Oddity // by Masquerade313 //------------------------------// "Pinch me. Pinch me. 'Cause I'm still... Asleep. Please, God, tell me... That I'm still asleep." Kvetch returned from his fight with Forty and began to count out 'caps', whatever they were, for Blade's payment. The number approached five-hundred. I was stunned to see that life had a finite price for the two of them. Then again, they were Slavers. They put explosives around ponies' necks in order to keep them contained. They didn't even care enough to stop a pony from running away, knowing the runaway would die before making it outside the town's wall. They treated their ponies like... Like... Like slaves. The sympathy I had for the three we had killed vanished entirely, as did any amount of comfort I still had in being near 'civilization'. I turned to Chance. "Let's go. I don't like it here." He looked around at the dead buck, the crying mare and colt, and the beaten, bloody Forty. "Neither do I." I reluctantly followed him, keeping his still-bandaged hoof on my shoulder, as he walked by the two crying ponies. I couldn't even bring myself to say hello to them. I just couldn't say anything. They'd hate me. They'd be angry at me for not intervening, I knew they would. And I couldn't tell what was worse, their outward miserableness, or their inward spite. I said nothing... "Welcome to Appleloosa..." I looked over as we passed by Forty. He smiled, revealing missing teeth and a mouth colored in various reds. His right eye was already swelling. He spit out a broken tooth. Chance stopped by him and started asking for directions. "Where's the infirmary?" He spit out another piece of tooth. "Hell if I know. S'not like I go there much." Unfortunately for Forty, it seemed that Chance didn't like that answer.  He lowered his head and glared at him with hard, green eyes. "I don't know if you made the connection, but I'm in a lot of pain. Now just tell me where it is, before I you end up in there." The stallion scoffed. "Is that a threat? Like you could do anything to me all banged up like that—" Chance's medical saw levitated before Forty's throat. "Chance," I said warningly. "Now, think about what you're doing..." "Let me handle this," he hissed at me. He turned back to Forty. "Well, I hope you can find somepony soon that knows how to get you there, or you're going to have a pretty bad time..." "You're crazy," said Forty, trying not to move lest the saw did, too. "No, I just hate overly cocky smart-asses who think they can get away with being rude to everypony they meet! Now just point me to the damn infirmary!" "Alright, alright! Just put that thing away!" Chance put the saw back into his saddlebags. Forty took a few steps back. It seemed like he was contemplating whether or not to run away. "It's up the path and across the way from Billy's and Presto's. Can't miss them. Then just keep going towards The Pen and it should be there on your right -- some dingy little shack." Chance hobbled towards Forty, who was now cowering against his chariot looking ready to cry. He flared his nostrils, looking for all the world as if he wanted to strike out at the helpless-looking stallion. “Thank you,” he said calmly. “Now, Odd, come on. This thing is burning and if I keep it on much longer, it’s not going to be pretty.” Oh Goddesses... We were going inside. We left the bewildered and afraid Forty behind and made our way into Appleloosa proper. It was exactly as I thought it would be: filthy, decrepit... filthy. There were upturned chariots masquerading as houses. Anything considered to be a true building was made of rotten wood. The only relatively intact building was a two-story that was getting a lot of visitors. As we walked by, we noticed a sign above the door that read ‘Billy’s Saloon’. Just next to that was ‘Presto’s What you need, when you need it Guns and Ammo’. That’s just great. Put the place with the alcohol next to the place with deadly weapons. … Oh, and then put the infirmary a good three-hundred feet away. It’s like this was meant to be a place where ponies come to die. It didn’t help my uneasiness to learn that the infirmary was placed behind a sign labeled ‘Cutter’s’. I called out for someone. A young, cream-colored mare with gray hair trotted out from behind a wall. Her cutie mark was that of a medical saw, so I assumed she was Cutter. Her eyes widened as she neared and noticed Chance’s tourniquet and hoof-hole. “Pull that off,” she said. “Get the blood flowing again.” I was on the verge of asking her if she was crazy, but that was before Chance bit through the cloth and started vigorously shaking his hoof. The mare fished around in a drawer before pulling out a vial of glowing purple something. She ran, set that down next to Chance, grabbed a flashlight, and ran back. She clicked it on with her teeth and started examining the hole. “Bullet wound?” “Yes.” “Looks clean. I can’t see any shrapnel. What kind of bullet was it?” Chance tilted his head towards the rifle that was now strapped across my back. Her eyes met with mine and they narrowed. “You shot him?” “What? No, I didn’t!” She looked ready to argue with me, but Chance interrupted her. “He didn’t shoot me. It was some striped pony hiding out in a place called Harmony Church.” “You two took out that drifter zebra?” “Zebra?” we asked. “That wasn’t a striped pony you saw. It was a zebra. They’re kind of like ponies, but they come from Roam. They say it’s a place really far away from Equestria. After the war, a lot of them were stuck here--” “War?” “The Great War between ponies and zebras? How could you two not know about the war?” Chance looked over his shoulder and jumped away from me. “Bleeding here.” The mare unstoppered the vial and instructed Chance to drink it. He seemed to have no problem with drinking this mysterious pony’s purple potion. Though, I guess it was for the better; before my eyes, Chance’s flesh was building back together around the hole. In a few seconds, it was no less than a hairless dot on his hoof. “What was that?” asked Chance. “When did the war start?” She turned to Chance first. “That was a healing potion. They’re concentrated healing magic, essentially, made into a tangible form.” The  she put her hoof to her chin and tapped it in thought. “And I believe the war started about a hundred years ago. It was over about as fast as it began. They say it only took two hours before the war was over.” “How could a war only last two hours?” I asked. “Well, it was going on for years. It’s just that the end of the war lasted that long. The zebras fired megaspells at Equestria, and Equestria fired back. That’s why the Stables were made, so that ponies would be safe when the megaspells were launched.” She sighed. “I’ll bet those Stable ponies didn’t even know what was going on up here...” A refuge in case of... Something. I don’t know what I thought my mother meant when she said that. I must not have thought about it at all. I had no idea that Chance and I were playing outside on the day the world would almost end... She gasped. “You two are from a Stable! It makes so much sense now! I don’t know why I didn’t think that’s where the PipBuck came from--” I took a step back. “What do you mean?” “Well, ponies tend to know about why the Wasteland is what it is. If you two don’t know, that must mean you’re from a Stable! Which one are you from?” It was tough to try and shrug away her question, seeing as how it was so blunt. “We’re from Stable Seventy-Five.” There was a silence reminiscent to that of Kvetch’s earlier. Though, instead of simply dismissing us, she was thinking what we said through. “But Seventy-Five’s been overrun with Imps for years. If you guys are acting like you grew up in a Stable... How is that possible?” Chance gasped. “The Cryo-tek chambers...” “The what chambers?” “It was a Stable-Tec experiment,” I answered. “We must have been stuck inside of the chambers for all of those years.” … I had been promised a better future. No, a brighter future. This wasn’t either. I felt cheated. I felt empty-- “So what do we do now?” asked Chance. I felt lost. I had gone into the chambers thinking that everything would be better. I didn’t like how my life was turning out. I thought I could just escape, and I was glad to be given the opportunity. But that was then. Now, I actually wanted the Overmare to give me something to do. I wanted to be given a crappy odd job just so I had something to take my mind off of the Wasteland. Cutter interrupted my train of thought. “You can do whatever you want.” “What do you mean ‘whatever you want’? Don’t you have some sort of leader that tells you what to do?” She snorted. “Well, we’ve got Papa, but it’s not like anypony obeys him.” “Do you know where Papa is? I think I want to talk to him.” Yes, I would have a delightful little chat with him about how he was running the town. If he was having trouble keeping his ponies in order, I wanted to make sure he knew what was going on. Even then, there was absolutely no excuse for letting ponies enslave each other. “He should be in the saloon,” she answered. “He spends most of his time in there.” Great, a drunk pony leading Slavers... "To Billy's Saloon, then," I said. I pushed the infirmary door open and trotted briskly towards the two-story establishment, the only thing on my mind being giving Papa a piece of my mind. He might be able to do whatever he wanted, but, by the same token, I was able to tell him that what he wanted to do was cruel and sadistic. And if the ensuing argument didn't get through to him, I'd say it was downright insane. Chance caught up to me. "Odd, this is crazy." "You're right." I slammed the door open. The building was so dark inside that I couldn't notice anything but the slowly diminishing volume of a piano and oboe song. Chance and I stepped inside, the door slammed behind us, and the music cut off entirely. I could now see well enough to realize that everyone inside was looking at us. There was a faint glow throughout the room, caused by a multitude of unicorns aiming guns at us. I suddenly didn't feel as righteous as I did while on my way here... "Ponies, ponies, please!" A brown stallion dressed in a large red overcoat was approaching from the side. His voice was smooth, his trot even more so, which made him seem oddly at ease even with so many hostile ponies nearby. He stopped before us and turned to face the crowd. "You're scaring our guests! Put your guns away!" There was a general mumble of disappointment before the collective glow subsided. The music began to pick up again, and ponies' voices rose to meet it. Everything was back to... Normal. The stallion turned back to us. "I don't believe I've seen either of you before." His eyes darted to my flank. "And I know I would remember seeing a blank flank." Chance held his hoof out. "Thanks for helping us just now. My name's Chance." The stallion shook his hoof. "Nice to meet you." He then held his hoof out to me. "You sure are an odd-looking pony. What's your name?" I gritted my teeth and shook his hoof. "It's Odd. Odd Job." "Welcome to Appleloosa, Odd Job. I hope my acquaintances haven't changed your opinion about our wonderful town." "Oh, don't worry. They haven't..." "Good, good!" he said, smiling. "You know, I still have to apologize for them. Come, follow me." The stallion turned and trotted swiftly towards a glowing red portion of the saloon. Chance went to follow him, and I followed behind. "Chance, this is ridiculous. We need to go find Papa before something else happens." He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "And where do you expect to find him?" "He's probably--" "Look, we'll just go follow this guy, thank him for his help, and then we can ask around in here. There's bound to be somepony around who knows where he is." "But..." He had already started moving again. I shook my head and followed him. It was odd to see the effects of alcohol en masse. Well, I hoped these ponies were drunk. One corner of the building seemed to be taken up by a horde of drunken lovers. There were mares kissing mares and stallions kissing stallions. Some large mass that I couldn't quite make out was rolling across the floor and bumping into ponies. It rolled too far and got into the corner of the bar where there were hoof-fights at every table. Actually, nearly half of the building was home to such fights, each of which seemed to be escalating in brutality. I turned away as one pony was heaved so strongly away that he punched a hole through the building's wall. ... Was I the only one that noticed? The last portion of the room was taken up by ponies playing billiards, darts, and cards. It was easily the most sophisticated section of the saloon. The tables where the games were played ringed around a small canvas, which was covering the source of the red light that Chance headed for. A server pushed her way out of the canvas, revealing Chance and the stallion. I worked my way through the tables and pushed past the canvas. Two mares, one that looked like Cutter and another that could easily be the stallion's daughter, were sitting at a table next to the stallion. Chance and them were laughing at something he said. The stallion nudged the mares away and he stood to greet me. "Ah, welcome, Odd Job! I was wondering when you would show up!" Chance downed a mug of some brown drink and spoke. "To be honest, I thought you'd left." "But it only took me twenty seconds or so to--" "Watch out!" The serving mare came back inside and pushed me aside before setting more drinks on the table. "Another round of cider for the new arrival, Sunny!" She went out of her way to shove me again before exiting the canvas once more. I took a seat opposite the stallion. "Thank you, but I don't drink. I'd rather have water or something." "Fine, I'll drink your cider," said Chance. "I think you've had enough." "Lighten up, Odd!" Sunny returned with two mugs of the cider, both of which he levitated towards himself. "It's not like we're in a hurry to get somewhere." "Sunny? A water for our friend here." She giggled and walked back out. I reached across the table and grabbed Chance's last, full mug out of the air. "Hey!" "I don't need you getting drunk, Chance." "Odd, I'm going to have to agree with your friend here. What's wrong with enjoying yourself for a while?" "This was just supposed to be a quick in-and-out, that's why." The two mares erupted in peals of laughter. Even the stallion found it difficult not to grin. I slammed the mug down on the table. "I just need to talk to Papa!" The table was silent. Chance swiped the mug from me and downed it. The stallion leaned forward and put his hooves on the table. "Well? Can I talk to him?" "Go ahead, I'm listening." I went to talk, but stopped. This was Appleloosa's leader? That couldn't be possible! He was the most likeable pony I'd met in the Wasteland so far! “Well?” he prompted. “You wanted to talk to me, and here I am.” I was dumbstruck. I expected a fight, guards, some threats at least. He was being entirely civilized, which really threw a wrench into my plans. “Do you have any idea what’s going on in Appleloosa?” I choked out. “Hmm? Oh, yes, the incident involving Forty... I’ve been thinking about letting him go. His job is to make sure that nopony wearing a collar escapes, and clearly, he’s not doing well.” “That’s not what I meant. You’re enslaving ponies.” The three of them stared blankly at me. I had a feeling they were completely aware of the fact. Papa leaned back and sighed. “That’s the opinion of most ponies. I don’t blame you, Odd. What happened when you arrived was wrong. Unfortunately for us, first impressions go a long way. You must understand that we help ponies. We are forced to collar ponies, and drag them back kicking and screaming if we have to, because no other plans of ours work.” “That’s barbaric!” He spread his hooves in the air. “I can’t deny that. But I can bear that just knowing that in the end, I’ve done something to help. All of the ponies we’ve brought in were enduring the worst the Wastes had to offer. They were either about to be eaten by raiders, or taken by Imps, or subject to some other horror. And regardless of how ponies struggle against us, we can’t let them continue to live like they do.” “Raiders?” “Cannibals,” he answered. “Just one step above a ghoul, but worse, considering they know exactly what they’re doing.” “Ghouls?” That sounded like something bad. “They’re ponies that have been exposed to large amounts of radiation, but haven’t been fortunate enough to die. Their manes fall out, their skin starts to fall off, and they all go crazy eventually--” “What’s radiation?” asked Chance. His face hardened. “I... I’ve never met such inquisitive ponies as you two.” He made it sound like his patience was wearing thin. “You know, they say curiosity killed the cat.” If that didn’t sound ominous, I don’t know what would. We were managing to upset the leader of the only town around for quite a while, despite his initial hospitality. “So, now that you know how twisted and dangerous the Wasteland is, maybe you can understand where we’re coming from?” “No, I can’t.” Papa seemed taken aback. “What you’re doing here isn’t right. These ponies don’t like it here.” I flashed back and saw the mother and son, crying together just inside the town. “Whatever you offer them can’t possibly be enough for them if they resist you so much. You’re taking away their freedom.” “That’s the problem,” he said. “What would you rather take from somepony: their freedom, or their life?” That hit me hard. Was it really that black and white? Had we been gone so long that the only way to live was to become a slave? Was there no chance for ponies to be free anymore? “Just something to think about...” said Papa, reaching into his overcoat’s pocket. He pulled his hoof back out and put a small pile of bottlecaps on the table. “There, that should be more than enough for some meals and a room in town. You can spend the night here and figure out what you want to do in the morning.” “... Those are bottlecaps.” “Why, yes, they are.” “How will that buy us food?” “Just go ahead and get something to eat, Odd. Those caps are good money,” he said, leaning back again. “You have my word.” Chance scooped up the caps and grinned. “Thank you, Papa. Let’s go get something to eat, then.” Without waiting for me, Chance pushed past the canvas. Sunny pushed her way in afterwards, carrying a tray that held a glass of some murky, brown liquid. “You have no idea how long it took me to find a sink around here that still works!” She slammed the glass on the table. “Enjoy your water.” That was water? I stood up and chuckled halfheartedly. "You know, I think I’m a bit more hungry than thirsty. I haven't eaten in... A long time." I pushed my way through to the saloon proper. Chance had been waiting for me just outside. Papa said that we could get some food here. I could see servers carrying food around. I tracked one and found out that they were getting it from a bar seated far back into the room. Chance noticed too, and we headed over. We took our seats, Chance perhaps a bit less gracefully than I. A pony to our left was drinking some kind of soup from a bowl while his friend nibbled on skewered bits of something. "I fuckin' love this stuff, man," said the skewer-holding one. "Best food in the Wastes right here." The soup-slurping one stopped slurping and turned to him. "I don't know why you bother with just the skewers, though. Another cap and you get those with all this other stuff--" "Yeah, I'd rather not have muddy water and rotten vegetables with my radigator." He waved his hoof out to a pony behind the counter. "Another beer!" "Yeah, yeah, one second!" she shouted back. She came to where we were sitting. "What'll you have?" Chance pointed to the stallion to the far left. "I'll have what he's having." "And you?" "Oh... Ah, I'm not really hungry right now." My stomach mumbled in protest, but not loudly enough for either to hear. "You'd think after a hundred years that you'd be hungry..." grumbled Chance. "Yeah," I responded. "Yeah, you would..." I'd rather eat my right hoof. At least I knew it wasn't muddy or rotten. And, for that matter, what the hell was radigator? That sounded like some kind of animal... Okay, now I really wasn't hungry. The server returned with Chance's meal. "That'll be six caps." He fished out what he needed and shoved it across the counter to her. She took the money and walked away. ... I didn't think that would have worked. Chance dug into his skewers. They didn't sound crisp like fruits or vegetables. They were soft. And he sat there, tearing and rendering them-- I shoved myself away from the table and hurried toward the door. Chance had apparently followed me, pieces of his meal still clinging to his teeth. "Odd, what's wrong?" "Oh... Well, you see, I," I cleared my throat and backed away, feeling sick. "I thought I'd go find somewhere for us to stay while you eat, since I'm not hungry or anything." "Alright," he said. "Just come and get me when you're done." I nodded and pushed past the door. As far as I knew, there was only one sane pony in this entire town. So she would probably be the only one I’d dare try to find a place to sleep from tonight. I really didn’t want to sleep in Appleloosa, though. I’d rather sleep in whatever Canterlot was covered in. This place was just awful. Regardless, I eventually found myself inside of Cutter’s clinic, where she had her mouth buried in the torn open abdomen of another pony. I didn’t care what she was doing, who she was doing it to, or about screaming and running away. All I knew was that there was blood and guts and-- Somepony tackled me to the ground. “Are you crazy?! What are ya doin’ runnin’ inta the mine field?!” “What are you talking about?” I muttered through a mouthful of earth. “You go in there an’ boom!” He got off of me and helped me to my hooves. He was an older stallion, definitely. Much like Papa, his skin was dark brown, except it was paler. His mane was about the same, but tinged with gray. He wore some random collection of rags and hard-looking plates. I was having trouble deciding whether or not I liked him. He did save my life, though. That was definitely a plus. What was he saving me from, exactly? ‘Mines’ he said? I turned to where he was pointing and all I saw were a collection of mounds in the dirt. They lead back as far as-- Sweet Celestia... The mounds stopped at a fence, which housed several, filthy, starving ponies. They all stood about with expressions of sorrow. There were some that I wasn’t sure were even breathing. The mare and colt from earlier today were huddled together in a corner of the fence far away, right up against a cliff that stretched far into the sky. There was the sound of somepony running towards us. “Odd?” It was Cutter. “Are you okay?” I turned to see her face, covered in blood, looking up at me. “Goddesses, no!” I screamed, looking away. I quickly realized that there was nowhere for me to look that didn’t scare the shit out of me, so I just dropped to the ground and put my hooves over my eyes. “This is wrong! Just this town is wrong!” “What?” “There are ponies that’ll end up killing each other in the saloon. And there are ponies like Blade that enslave other ponies. Then there are ponies here who eat meat! Meat! And then Papa told me that there are ponies out there who eat other ponies!” “Yes, but--” “No! There’s no ‘buts’! Even you were ripping somepony apart when I came in!” “I was operating on somepony, Odd!” “Your face was buried in their stomach!” She sighed heavily. “Okay, I can tell that you’re a bit freaked out, but I was only getting to a bullet in his muscle so that I could pull it out. I was not eating him.” That didn’t make me feel better at all. What sick bastard would shoot another pony? “Come on, kid,” said the stallion, who nudged me. “There ain’t no way Cutter would act like a Raider.” “Do you want to see him, Odd?” “No!” This time, they sighed together. “Okay, you don’t have to see him. But at least get off the ground?” I didn’t budge, so they decided to haul me up and lead me away. I didn’t open my eyes. All I needed now was to see some other sadist thing before I went crazy. Just one peek and I’d probably see someone raped with a unicorn horn or forced to eat their friend’s heart. It seemed like forever until we made it into what I believed was Cutter’s clinic. “What’s wrong with his eyes?” asked some stallion that I didn’t dare look at. “Nothing,” answered Cutter. “They’re just virgin.” He snorted. “Okay, Odd, you won’t be able to see him, but I need you to open your eyes. That, or you can trip down all of these stairs and wait for some Slaver to come and drag you back up.” I opened my eyes and rushed down the stairs, turning around and around to check for anything out of the ordinary. Ironically, everything I saw was odd; the room was clean, neat even. Stacked against the wall opposite me were several mattresses. Next to them were metal closets that shined as if they were new. The walls were painted, but the paint wasn’t peeling off. The only other thing in the room was the stallion who claimed to have saved me. He was holding his hoof out to me. I shook it. "Name's Presto," he said. "I'm in charge o' the guns an' ammo 'round here.” “Thanks for your help earlier,” I replied. “What are mines, anyway?” “They’re explosives, an’ powerful ones at that. Ya step on ‘em or near ‘em an’ they blow up. Papa says they’re there to keep the slaves from runnin’ away.” He then muttered “Which is total brahmin shit by the way.” “Anywho, I can't help but notice that rifle ya got there. It looks real nice, no rust er nothin'. Should get some decent range. Where'd ya get it?" "Cutter said something about a drifter zebra in Harmony Church--" He laughed. "You killed that son of a bitch? No kiddin'?" "I didn't kill him, no. My friend did." "Well, I can't say I'm sad ta know he's gone. But enough 'bout him; let's get down ta business. How much d'ya want for that rifle?" "I'd rather not sell it." If he said it had decent range, forget it. In case I'd ever have to shoot something, Celestia forbid, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near it. "Ya sure we can't work somethin' out? I'd love ta have that in my shop. Even if ‘twas just ta fix it up a bit?" We did need some more money, but still... "Let me go talk to my friend, and we'll see about it." He nodded and stood up, seeming satisfied. "Alright. You know where ta find me. ‘Twas a pleasure to meet ya, Odd Job." I nodded. "Same here." He went up the stairs. I followed behind a short while after. Cutter came around the corner (her face blood-free). "Do you feel better now?" Actually, I had been feeling better. That is, until she said something about it. I instantly felt morbid for thinking that everything was fine, even though all of the problems I'd mentioned earlier were undoubtedly still going on. "I'm not sure," I said. "There's a lot for me to think about at the moment." "Like what?" "First things first, it's getting dark outside. I need to find a place to stay for the night. And then Chance and I need to find some money." "I'm afraid I can't help you with money problems, but I'd be more than happy to let you stay here for the night." "Really?" It sounded almost too good to be true. I didn't even have to ask her. "Of course. I've got some old mattresses back downstairs that you and your friend could sleep in. If you're short on money, I won't charge you anything either." "Thank you." I paused. This still seemed wrong to me. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here in Appleloosa?" She raised an eyebrow. "... I'm here to take care of ponies." "No, I mean, why are you here in Appleloosa? It just doesn't seem like the kind of place for somepony like you. Isn't there somewhere else you could go? Somewhere better?" "I suppose I could go to New Appleloosa, but this town's the only place I know." That still sounded wrong. I must have been right, for as I thought about what to ask next, she continued. "I stay here for the slaves," she sighed, now pacing. "If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be here. When they get hurt -- physically, mentally -- they come to me, and I help them." She snorted. "It sucks that I have to heal the ponies that enslave them, too, but if I just packed up and left, the slaves wouldn't have any hope left." "It sounds as if you don't like Slavers." "Nopony likes Slavers; I hate them." "But Papa says that Slavers help--" She gave a derisive snort. "You don't actually believe that, do you?" "Not entirely, but--" "What?" She rounded on me. "Are you telling me that you let him feed you that crap? Slavers don't help ponies! They're all better off wherever they were!" "But they have you here, don't they?" She went to retaliate, but stopped. "What do you mean by that?" "You said it yourself, you take care of those ponies when they're injured. That has to be better than whatever happens to them out in the Wasteland." "Odd, if you ever get the chance, go to the pen and ask everypony inside if they would like to leave. Half of them won't answer you out of fear. The other half will be ready to go in an instant." She went to go down the stairs. "They don't have anything here except hope that somepony like you will help." I listened to her hooves patter around for a while. ... I had nothing better to do. I walked out of Cutter's clinic and made a beeline for the fence. I remember the sun being in my eyes for a split second before I was plunged into the shadow of the cliff before me. I stopped only briefly to remind myself of what Presto said about the explosive mines. However, I could tell that ponies had walked through it before. Not only would new slaves have to be walked through (because of the fact that the fence's door was facing the field), but there was even a visible trail in the dirt. I trotted through cautiously. Luckily, there were no 'booms'. I made it to the fence and reexamined the ponies within. Cutter was right; they had nothing here, and they were afraid. Only one pony raised her head at my approach. "What are you doing here?" I sighed heavily. "I'm wondering at what's stopping me from letting every single one of you free..." Now all of them looked up. There was a collective mumbling from all of the slaves. "And that would be?" Yes, there was a lock on both fence doors, but I could probably pick them. Something else entirely was making me hold back. "I have a feeling that the Slavers will all try to either round you up, kill you, or detonate your collars when you start to escape--" "That doesn't matter," said the white mare. "I'd rather be dead than stuck in here." There was a murmur of agreement. "No. I'd rather have you all get out of here alive." Some of them turned away as I said that. "I'd rather give you all a fighting chance later than have you killed senselessly today." I didn't have anyone's attention now. They had all turned their backs to me. ... Now they didn't even have hope. And it was my fault. "I'm sorry," I said to them. They still looked away. "I will help you, but I can't right now. ... I'm so sorry." It tore my heart to walk away. I wanted so desperately to turn around and buck the fence in. I wanted to say ‘Just kidding!’ and make all of them feel better. But what could I do? I had some guns, but so did everyone else here. Even if I could pick the lock, the odds of leading everyone out safely without disturbing anything were slim to none. Plus, there were the collars to worry about. If anypony got too far away from the pen, they would die. And even then, if everypony could make it out alive, who’s to say that they would live happy lives out in the Equestria that was now a Wasteland? Was Papa right? Was Cutter right? Was anyone right anymore? I made my way to Billy’s Saloon with the intent of getting Chance out. I might not be able to save every slave from their fate today, but I was going to make sure that Chance was safe from anyone that might try to take advantage of him and his drunkenness. The only question was: where did he go? When I left, he was still at the bar. Now the only pony there was one who had fallen asleep in his soup bowl and the bartender. She looked up as I approached. “You looking for you friend?” she asked. “Yes, actually.” She pointed a hoof towards the red canvas on the other side of the saloon. “He’s at the tables. I’ve heard he’s cleaning up over there.” What? She couldn’t be serious. How could a drunk pony, especially Chance of all ponies, be good at playing cards? I remember thinking that all the way to the table, just until I could see a massive pile of caps beside Chance past a large crowd of ponies that had surrounded him and Blade, the only pony remaining at the table. The crowd gasped as Chance shoved all of his caps into the center of the table. Obviously, that meant he had done something wrong. “Chance,” I said, shoving my way through the crowd. “What the hell is going on?!” He looked up at me and smiled. “I don’t know!” On the table were two kings, two aces, and a seven. Blade shoved all of his caps into the center of the table as well and turned his cards around: another king and seven. The table went dead silent. Chance chuckled and urged somepony to come look at his cards. The pony’s eyes widened, and Chance laid down his cards. With his hand and the table’s cards, he had all four aces. Blade jumped up from his seat. “That’s brahmin shit! He cheated! I should kill him for that!” “Get over yourself, Blade,” said Papa, who had pushed through the crowd. “Chance won fair and square. He’s just one lucky son of a bitch.” Blade clenched his jaw. “Yeah, well he’ll be one dead son of a bitch if I ever see him getting four aces again! That doesn’t just happen!” He then stormed off through the doors of the saloon. Chance started to scoop up his winnings into his saddlebags. I went over and helped him as best I could. Soon enough, we had filled one side of his bags. When we were done, it was almost impossible to strap either side shut. I still have no idea how the hell he managed to win, considering he was stumbling all over the place. “How many caps did you win, exactly?” He belched loudly. “All of them.” I shook my head. “Well, come on. Cutter’s said that we can spend the night in the clinic.” “I hope we’re not going to be sleeping together,” he said, chuckling giddily. “That’d be weird, wouldn’t it?” “Sure...” I led Chance outside as he hobbled along behind me. It was starting to get dark. Thank the goddesses that Presto’s store was right next door. Part of me was glad that we were going to get there before the shop closed. Another part was glad that we might have the opportunity to make it less painfully obvious that Chance was carrying so much money. I pushed the door open to see Presto walking around behind a counter covered in weapons. His eyes lit up at the sight of me. "Welcome, Odd Job! Anything I can help ya with before I close up fer the night?" “I believe you said something about fixing up my rifle?” “Well, yes, but are ya sure y’don’t want ta sell it?” “That? Yes, I’m absolutely sure. You’ll still fix it though, right?” He sighed. “Yeah, sure. Hand it over and I’ll get to work on it later.” I undid the strap on my rifle and placed it on the counter. “Wait, I’ve got some more things to show you.” I fished around in my saddlebags and pulled out the boxy pistol and the scoped pistol that we’d found earlier. “Ya wanna sell both of these? Even the laser pistol?” I looked down at the boxier pistol, the only one he could be referring to. “Laser pistol? As in it shoots lasers?” "Eeyup. It’s Enclave technology. Looks nice as well, which ain’t too surprising I guess." "Enclave?" He sighed. "So you two are new ‘round here... Didn’t ya ever wonder why ya ain't seen no pegasuses? Er why ya can't see the sun?" Actually, no, I hadn't. "Well, all pegasuses are part o’ the Enclave. It’s some kinda government they came up with durin’ the war. Right before the bombs went off, they did some fancy flyin’ and set up the cloud curtain. They’ve been hidin’ behind it ever since.” He picked up the pistol in his hoof and smirked. "Every once in awhile they come down an’ check up on us. I bet that's what they call it, too, 'checkin' up'. They come down, kill as many ponies as they can, and fly away again. This prob'ly was a newbie's. Got scared an’ just left it down here." I had a hard time imagining that was true, but everything added up. I hadn’t seen a single pegasus since coming out of the Stable. And the clouds hadn’t cleared, either. Normally, pegasi were responsible for clearing the clouds. Now, they must be responsible for making sure they didn’t clear. But I had seen the sun just a while ago. What did that mean? I shook my head and went back to the matter at hoof. "Well, I would like to sell it, unless you have any ammo for it?" "You’re in luck." he popped open a green metal box on the counter next to him and poured out several of what looked like batteries. "It takes magic cells. I get tons o' these 'cause everypony else uses bullets." "How much are they?" "Well... They each have enough charge fer thirty shots, but I ain't sure how much magic is s'posed ta cost. How 'bout ten caps fer each?" "That sounds fair to me." Then again, we had goddess-knows how many caps. I stepped aside and began to unbuckle Chance’s saddlebags. This must have been the first time Presto noticed the amount of money we were carrying. “Land sakes, Odd! How much money does yer friend have in there?” I shrugged and continued counting out caps for the magic cells. That cost us a hundred caps, and it still looked like we would have trouble sealing Chance’s bags shut again. I continued counting out caps for Chance’s rifle and his pistol ammunition. In the end, we had only spent two hundred caps, which seemed more than fair. At least, Presto didn’t seem to be complaining. “Anythin’ else you need before you go?” “Well...” I was still uncomfortable with the amount of money that Chance had on him. It just bothered me. Blade said that he wanted to kill Chance to get his money back, and I couldn’t think of anything that would stop him. It was nice to know that if he came to fight, that we were ready to fight back, but we were still unprotected. “What do you have in the way of armor?” He reached beneath the counter and heaved up some bundles of heavy fabric. He pointed to one that wasn’t as bulky. “That’s just leather. Nice an’ thick, though. Pretty decent armor fer not so many caps.” The next one he pointed to was rather chunky. “This one’s leather, too, but it’s got metal plates sewn in all over it. Bit bulkier, and it’s a bit better than just leather.” He picked up the last bundle, a thin, sleek, black cloth. “An’ this is Brotherhood of Steel recon armor. S’really light, but just as good as leather.” “Can we try them on?” “Sure.” I took the recon armor and handed Chance one of the non-plated leather bundles. We shrugged off our saddlebags and got to work putting the armors on. The way the recon armor was put together was just plain weird. It buckled together at the chest, which was fine, but I went to unbuckle it, and it split apart. It didn’t rip, it just fell apart. I picked up the chest piece, which now looked more like a jacket, except for the fact that its sleeves had no holes at the end. I fished around in my saddlebags for my PipBuck key. Having found it, I unlocked my PipBuck and let it drop onto the floor. I then resumed trying to put on the armor. The thud it made as it hit the floor sparked Presto’s interest. “Where’d ya get that?” “Chance found it on a dead pony in our Stable.” ... How the fuck was I able to say that so nonchalantly?! “How much would ya want fer that if I wanted ta buy it off ya?” “It’s not for sale,” I said quickly. “What? Come on, Odd. I’ll give you a thousand caps for it, right here, right now.” “No,” I said finally. “It’s not for sale.” For two reasons, though. One, I had no idea how we could carry around one thousand caps on top of what we already had. Two... I just didn’t want to sell that PipBuck. It was just... I don’t know. I just couldn’t bring myself to part with it, regardless of the way it was obtained. “Suit yourself...” I pulled the armored jacket over my head, shoved my hooves down the sleeves, and re-zipped it. The cloth ended just around the middle of my back. That done, I tackled the bottom half of the armor. There were no zippers this time, just a pair of sleeves for my rear legs and a large hole (that I assumed and hoped was for my tail). They slipped on rather easily. A snap of a buckle later, and the armor was all put together. The fabric felt different, but not in a strange way. It felt like I was wearing... Well, clothes. They way it moved was strange, though. It was fitting, but not tight. When I stretched, it stretched accordingly, also without constricting me at all. Even when I put my PipBuck back on, the fabric seemed to move without any problems. “I like this,” I said, still turning and admiring the armor. “How much?” “It’ll be another three hundred caps for that. Plus one-fifty for yer friend’s armor.” I rooted through Chance’s saddlebags and found the four hundred and fifty caps we would need to cover for the armor. It seemed that we were finally putting a dent in Chance’s winnings -- one that would make it much easier to carry the remaining portion around. I looked over at Chance, who was half in, half out of his armor, snoozing quietly on the floor. “Chance, wake up.” “I am awake,” he mumbled. “Well, then get up. If you’re tired, we should go back to Cutter’s and sleep on a real bed.” “Fine...” I helped Chance off the floor and gathered up whatever he hadn’t picked up himself. We said our thanks and goodbyes to Presto and walked out the door. It was dark outside now. The light and sound coming out of Billy’s was much more apparent. There wasn’t anyone simply milling around anymore. The streets were empty, save for Chance and I. We made it to Cutter’s clinic unscathed. It seemed that someone had already arranged places for us to sleep. Chance collapsed onto his mattress, making me realize how tired I was. I didn’t even bother taking off my armor. I just threw my saddlebags down and fell onto the other mattress. Side Note: Level Up New Perk: Hunger Games - It's now easier to persuade other ponies (+10 to Speech). Also, your rate of starvation has decreased.