//------------------------------// // A New End // Story: Fallout Equestria: Legion // by Chemtest //------------------------------// “Curiosity killed the cat.” Rocks, perhaps the most common of all features decorating the Wasteland. Sure, Raiders are numerous, and assholes are around every bend, but they don’t hold a candle to rocks. Indeed, rocks are everywhere, and that is wonderful. What is a rock? It’s a mystery, just waiting for somepony to come along and look under it. What hides under a rock? A scorpion mostly, but sometimes… sometimes you find something- “Mast! Get your head screwed back on!” I blink out of my thoughts, as a nearby stallion shouts at me. Brown, large in size, wearing light leather armor, and carrying a gun by his side. I smile, “You know, Sentinel, you’re like a rock in many-“ He rolls his eyes, interrupting, “Mast.” I grin, “You are being such a killjoy today, Sentinel. I simply wished to give a dramatic internal mon-“ He narrows his eyes slightly, “Mast.” I smile, trotting over and lightly hitting him on the leg, “Oh, fine, since you insist, I’ll pay more attention. But it’s coming out of your paycheck.” He nods, returning to scanning the Wasteland around our small caravan. Two carts, being pulled by some young stallions, laden to the brim with goods, trundling along behind us, kicking up a miniature dust storm. I look ahead, blinking as I see simple structures in the distance, “Are we already there?” Sentinel nods, trudging forward at the same steady pace, “Yes. No thanks to your spacing out.” I grin, “You sound bitter, Sentinel. What, do you want me to share it with you? Well, don’t mind if I do, Sentinel, you see, rocks are-“ He looks over at me, speaking over me, “A mystery waiting to be solved.” I pause, and blink, shrugging and continuing to trot ahead, “Yes, well… it’s true, really. You never know when a rock might be-“ He looks back towards the slowly approaching town, “A diamond.” I look at him, rushing forward and turning around to look into his eyes, “Now, now, Sentinel, one more interruption and it’s coming out of your paycheck.” He rolls his eyes, trotting past me, “As if I-“ I grin, interrupting him, “Even get a paycheck to begin with.” He looks back at me, slowly grinning, “Now there’s Mast.” I grin more, trotting up to and beside him, looking forwards at the approaching town. Or village, really. Is there even really a town left in Equestria? Certainly no cities, not by Pre-War definitions. Sadly there’s no Wasteland Census, though there should be, it’s really useful. As for this… village, it’s a simple affair. The buildings seem to be made out of stolen Pre-War bricks mixed with stone and some scrap metal, creating a very… rushed look to it all, like a filly’s combat armor when she wants to go with her mom to Zebrica. Ponies trot around the whole village, selling various goods that can’t be made out from so far. I look over at Sentinel, “I am serious, though, rocks are important. Just look at this place. At one time, only rocks were here, but ponies came together to build it all up.” He glances over, “You sound like an old filly’s book.” I smile, “But it’s true! Ponies can do just such amazing things, right? Not even the end of the world could keep us down, we just got right back up and started to rebuild!” He nods, “Not always a good thing, Mast.” I nod, and sigh, “Yeah, yeah, slavers, Raiders, yada-yada. But still, we can do great things, Sentinel. You just need to have a bit of belief.” He shrugs, as we reach the village proper. I look down the central road, until my eyes happen upon a weapon’s shop. I grin, grabbing some bags from the carts behind me, depositing them on my back and trotting up to the shop, “Sentinel, sell the rest of the stuff for water, food, and medicine. And try not to scare the merchants to death.” I trot on, feeling the force of an eye roll from Sentinel. A very magical thing, that, being able to feel the rolling of somepony’s eyes without seeing them. Makes me wonder why I never asked him to teach me the trick, though perhaps he wouldn’t want to give up the forbidden magic. The shop that I approach is pretty simple, a purple mare standing behind a counter, and most of the shop empty. I trot up to the counter, and smile to her, “Half Mast, Rainy Roads Carvan.” The mare smiles back, leaning on the counter some, “Powder, sugar, how can I help ya?” I blink after she speaks, taking a moment to process her accent. Not very refined, in fact, very unrefined, yet pleasant to the ear. Appleloosan, perhaps, or maybe from the southern jungles. I shake my head clear off thoughts, and nod to her, creating a perfectly diagonal motion, “A fine day, Powder, I’m looking for a lot of five millimeter bullets, as many as you can sell.” She grins, “Five mil? Ain’t an ammo type one asks for, ‘less they got a big ass gun.” I smile and nod, “Well, I’m not buying for myself, Powder. Now, don’t make this a rumor, but I do have some good relations with Steel Rangers in Baltimare, who chew through ammo like a starving foal with a can of beans. So they are paying quite a lot for five millimeter rounds, and I plan on making a profit from buying from you and selling to them.” She grins more, leaning closer, “So you’re telling me, sugar, that then Steel Rangers are buying five mil for a lot?” I nod again, “Well, yes, Powder, I believe I did just say that.” She smiles, “And tell me, sugar, why should I sell to you, when I could just sell to them?” I smile back, “Well, Powder, two reasons. Firstly, any profit you would make by directly selling to them would be less than the cost of hiring a caravan or group of ponies to properly transport the ammo and barter with the Rangers. Therefore, it would be a bad business venture, and draw unwanted attention to your little village. Secondly, because I am asking nicely.” She grins, looking me in my eyes for a second. After a moment of silence, she nods, “Can’t say you’re wrong, sugar. I got around five hundred five mil that’s just collecting dust in the back room. I’ll give them all to you for… a thousand caps.” I nod, depositing a sack onto the counter, and opening it up, “Counter deal. You will give it to me for two leather bardings, a Stable Suit with it’s number removed, three ten millimeter pistols with ammo included, and a thank you.” She looks at the assorted items, and nods, “That’ll work.” She turns around, opening a hidden door on the back wall of her shop, and coming out carrying a bin, clinking with ammunition inside. She places it down, allowing me to immediately pick it up, and begin to trot out. She grins, “You’re forgetting something, sugar.” I turn around, a moment that unwittingly saved my life, for as I open my mouth to thank the mare, a flaming bottle of alcohol barely misses my head. Instead, it slams into the counter Powder is leaning against, instantly exploding in a mixture of flames and glass shards, catching onto Powder’s fur. Fight or flight is a very curious thing in ponies. When presented with a difficult, dangerous, or stressful situation, the body and mind are forced to choose. Do we run away in fear, or do we fight and struggle? It’s a false dichotomy, as there’s a middle ground. Freeze. The brain is too shocked by what it sees, and stops. You simply stop and stare in horror, unable to move an inch. I saw a mare burning in front of me, and I chose to freeze. Powder quickly catches ablaze, four separate fires starting all over her body, and quickly spreading to her highly flammable fur. Only when I could smell burning hair and flesh did I think to react, and by then, it was too late. Powder had stopped making noise, leading to the realization that she was screaming, and stopped moving at all. In light of the horrifying sight in front of me, I turned tail and ran, forgetting about my ammunition entirely. Outside wasn’t better. The streets of the village were full of ponies of three types. The running and screaming, the standing and fighting, and the odd. The ‘odd’ being a very descriptive term, as they were. Ponies wearing near ancient looking armor, painted red and gold, running around the streets with machetes, knives, and only very few rudimentary guns. One in particular carries a bunch of alcohol, and a lighter. A pony runs into me from the side, knocking me to the ground in pain and shock. I blink the dust out of my eyes, looking to see a terrified stallion running by, another mare running into him, bowling the two of them over into the path of one of the odd ponies. The armored mare, accompanied by two friends, immediately sets to beating up the two, armored hooves creating sickening cracks over the sound of fires, running, and screaming. All around the town, similar scenes happen. Scared village ponies being beat down by armored hooves, then tied up and toted to the center of the town. A few foals run around, shouting for parents, and other foals twitch on the ground, trampled by the stampede of frightened ponies. A few village ponies attempt to fight back, shooting at the armored ponies with low caliber weaponry, only injuring one or two before being rapidly cut down. Smoke fills the air from buildings like Powder’s, creating a sickening haze over- I’m knocked out of my thoughts as I’m roughly grabbed, and pulled behind Powder’s shop. Sentinel looks at me, “Mast, get up. We need to go, now.” I blink, and slowly get up, “Right… get going.” His eyes narrow, “Mast, I’m serious, snap back. I need you here and now, not lost.” I nod, shaking my head, once more creating a diagonal motion, “Okay, okay, I’m back. Shit, yeah, we need to go, now.” He nods, flicking out a trigger for his battle saddle, the hunting rifle on it chambering a bullet. He begins to trot down the little side street, trying to keep out of side, heading for the edge of the village. I follow behind as quietly as I can, trying not to focus on the ponies calling out for help from behind me. I sigh, and whisper to him, “I didn’t get the ammo. Fuck.” He looks back, “I didn’t think this would happen today, Mast, I’m sorry you’re getting caught up in it.” I pause, quickly starting back up to keep up, “Sentinel?” He looks ahead, steeling his gaze, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you later, once we’re safe.” I frown slightly, “No, Sentinel. You can speak as we escape. If you’ve been doing something behind my back, I want to know.” He looks at me, scowling, “Fine. These ponies are about to be-“ He’s cut off by a loud bang. His talk quickly turns to gurgling, as blood begins to flood from his neck.