Fallout: Equestria –Luck of the Draw
Chapter 2: Winning the Lottery
“How am I gonna stop some mean Mother Hubbard from tearing me a structurally superfluous new behind? The answer: use a gun. If that don’t work: use more gun.”
“Okay Lucky, drum-roll please? The test says you are…” Mr. Broth scans the bottom of the receipt, and then suddenly generates an expression of shock, alarm and unease.
“Well, Lucky, the test says you are best suited for Pest Control. Congratulations, you have a big responsibility our Stable! As you know, protecting our crops from pests is very important, because if they get eaten, then we have nothing to eat, and then we all starve and die!” Broth exclaims with a hint of worry underneath, and begins scribbling something on to the receipt. “Here, this is the pony responsible for your training. His room is in the far right corner of the main orchard when you enter through the big doors, you can’t miss it, with the lawnmowers and other gardening implements near it. I am sure the Groundskeeper will be very happy to have some company!”
Mr. Broth quickly gives you the paper, with the name “Chilly” on it.
“Now, be on your way, don’t want to be late! Chilly is a very punctual pony, don’t want to get on his bad side…trust me. I’ll give him a call to let you know you are on your way.” You can almost detect a tinge of fear in his voice as he shoos you away with his hooves.
Mr. Broth was right, the Groundskeeper office was not very difficult to find, especially if you stick to the walls. Various farming implements are strewn about, like magic-powered lawnmowers, tractors and tillers. Hoses of various lengths and colors are attached to the faucets on the wall, attached to some sprinklers watering the nearby trees and fields. Judging by the atmosphere, it is very tranquil and calming. You can get used to this.
You walk up to the door, which automatically opens up for you thanks to the motion detector set on the top of the frame. You peer inside to see a rather large room, with some crates, a workbench, and more tools lining the walls. On the back wall is a monitor with various screens open, each screen showing what appears to be hall in the Stable. It’s as if this was like the Security station, keeping an eye in the sky to check for any trouble. In the center of the room there lies a wooden desk with guns and bullets littered on the top and a plush chair at the head of the desk, facing away from the door.
“So.”
You are startled. You didn’t know there was somepony in this room. Your eyes focus on the direction the voice came from, the chair.
“Yer the one Broth sent me, are ya? The ‘Pest Control’ pony from the C.A.T.?” The mystery pony queries, with a thick brogue. “Lucky, right? That’s rich. A pony named ‘Lucky’ getting assigned to this post. Sometimes, I think the gods love playin’ tricks on us.”
The chair swivels around revealing a large earth pony with a gruff demeanor. His coat was blue and shaggy, like he has never combed it down in years. His mane and tail are red, also with a disheveled appearance and wears a beard of the same red, with some graying around his mouth. His eyes are a cutting laser beam red, burning holes right through you as he grimaces in your direction, like your very existence disgusts him. But the most noticeable features are the scars. His body is covered in lines of jagged scratches, pink were his hair wouldn’t grow again. You think you can even see small chunks of his legs missing. His cutie mark is black, morbid skull and crossbones.
“Me name’s Chillblain, but fer some reason ev’ryone calls me ‘Chilly’. Like I am their friend o’ somethin’.” Chillblain takes a swig from a flask, which you probably assume is not water, from the smell of his breath when he talked to you. “YOU, on the other hoof, are going ta address me as ‘sir’. Not ‘Chilly’ or ‘Groundskeeper Chilly’ or ‘Silly Chilly’ or ‘Chillmeister’ or ‘Mr. Chill’, IT IS ‘SIR’. Ye'll maintain a level of professional respect, ye hear?” Chillblain points an accusatory hoof at you, to ensure he gets his point across. “Ya better hear, or else we’ll be takin’ a trip to the doctor to fix your spine after I break it in two.”
“I’ll have ya know I have been doing this job for over 50 years meself, as the galloping guardian of the groves, the pony protector of the produce, the only offense of the orchards against the enemies. The enemies, of course, are the eponymous ‘pests’ your C.A.T. calls. Let me tell you that these…creatures put the ‘pest’ in ‘pestilence’. The name ‘pest’ doesn’t do these monsters justice. It seems that over the decades the magical bombs that blew Equestria to kingdom come has twisted and mutated all the animals’ inta something unearthly an’ wicked. The insects became enormous, the rats have become ravenous, and all their tempers have become terrible. Good thing for YOU that I and all the groundskeepers before me have kept a record of the animals that have assaulted our edibles.” Chillblain hopped off his chair, and with a noticeable limp walked over to a corner of a room where he pulls out what appears to be a scrapbook of somekind.
“This here is a list of all the animals that we had to kill to protect our crops. Inside there is detailed information on their patterns, behaviors, and anatomy. I had help with our scientists to provide pictures of dissections if ya must know.” He opens up a page and shows you, and you immediately wish your breakfast to stay down in your stomach where it belongs.
“Ah…right. Yer only 12, if’n I recall. Well, I guess it’s the slide show fer ya now.”
Chillblain pulls you inside and plops you into a seat, closes and locks the door and pulls down a projector screen. You begin to wonder why he locked the door as he wears a serious look on his face.
“Now the slide show is what they might call ‘kid-friendly’, as it don’t have monster guts all over the place, but the teachers said it may be still a little frightening. Now sit tight and listen ta what I’m about to say, because I probably won’t do this again. After this, yer reading the book if ya need to ask somethin’. Here, take notes on this pad,” Chillblain states as he slams a pad of paper and a pencil in front of you. He dims the lights so the projector can show pictures, but is still light enough to write on your pad. With a click of a button, the first slide is a simple introduction slide, with the Stable-Tec mascot “Stable-Buck” spraying some generic aerosol on a bug, killing it.
“About a hundred years ago, when we opened the Stable doors to determine whether or not it was safe, we encountered a big problem. Apparently, just outside our stable door is a nest of roaches. And I am not talking little roaches that you see on the entertainment videos or on cartoons, I mean foal-sized roaches.” A click of a button shows a slide of a close-up of a roach taking up the whole screen. “And just so you know, that isn’t a close-up of a roach, that's its' actual size.” A chill goes down your spine. “From what my pa told me, as soon as the stable door so much cracked open, a swarm of these disgusting fellers flooded the stable. 'Twas a good thing they weren’t very strong, a full body stomp or a bullet from a BB gun could put them out of commission. Unfortunately, we did not get all of them because we still find them here in the Stable. After that mess, my pa told me the Overseers decided to open it again every 10 years, and with explosives prepared, because they nearly ate up our stock the first time.”
A click of button shows the next slide to be a praying mantis. You remember seeing these on a documentary on insects your class watched one day.
“Also actual size. These guys are giant sized versions of their ancestors, which were supposed to be helpful in killin’ other bugs. Well, they still do that, only they ain’t so friendly with ponies either. Half of the scratches on my body are due to the scythe-like blades attached to their forearms. They are fast, agile and can fly a bit, so they are a little bit harder to kill once they take to the air. However, thanks to the S.A.T.S. equipped on our PipBucks, which I will be teaching you about, taking them down becomes rather easy.”
Click. This picture is of several cute looking flying creatures of various colors. You sorta smile as you think you want to keep on as a pet.
“I know what you are thinking. ‘Aww, how pwecious, they are soooo cute, I wanna take it home, and love it, and pet it, and call him Snuggles!’” How does he keep doing that! “THINK AGAIN, BOYO. These are parasprites, BEFORE the megaspells went off. Even then, they were a menace to pony society. Their appetites were endless, and they multiplied faster than you doing times tables in your head! Now, brace ya-self, because I am going to show you what they look like NOW.”
Click. The second the slide appears, you practically regurgitate in your mouth, again. The parasprite looks like it was chewed up, digested, and thrown up.
“We dubbed these ‘bloatsprites’ for obvious reasons. It appears that instead of making them huge like the insects, it made them horribly deformed and shoots projectile vomit that burns like acid if it gets in contact with yer skin. Ya don’t want to find out what THAT feels like, it stings for days. Their appetite is still as large as their ancestors. They also happened to evolve into a second type of parasprite, which I will show ya…now.”
Click. Not as disgusting as the bloatsprite, but still unpleasant to look at. They are feral-looking parasprites, with orange veiny wings, sharp jagged teeth, and alternating black-and-color fuzzy coats, like a bumblebee of sorts. However, unlike the helpful bumblebees that aid in pollinating their plants, the parasprite has a nasty looking stinger the size of a hypodermic needle.
“These are paradores, named after the famous cowpony ‘Cazadore the Hunter’. The reason being is that these buggers are very predatory, they make the mantises look like herbivores. The other half of my scars are from the bites and stings from a nest of paradores we found. I almost died that day, but we had enough magical anti-venom potions to clean out my blood. Before then there wasn’t any use for them, so I was the first test subject. In case you can’t tell, it worked. Their flight path is very erratic and extremely fast. If ya happened to shoot down their wings, they still can move as fast on the ground. As I stated before, S.A.T.S is essential here.
“I can tell by the look in yer eyes that there is some disbelief on whether these creatures actually exist. Well, that means I am doing my job. I take great care in disposing of these mutants in a timely and aggressive manner, because if a nest becomes too big, they get all over the place and there WILL be casualties. Two hundred years of wear and tear will even make holes in these thick Stable walls, creatin’ openin’s for the buggers to enter and make cozy hives. My- OUR job is to find these nests and put an end to them as soon as possible.”
The lights in the room brightened back to normal, and the fan of the projector stopped humming as it was turned off. Chillblain furled the projector screen, unlocked the door and opened it to let some fresh air in. He began to pace in front of you.
“Tomorrow onward begins your trainin’ in Anti-Pest Maneuvers. This training will include gun handling, target practice, endurance exercises, explosives handling, basic first aid, and learning of patrol schedules. I will teach you how to make your own bullets, improvise explosives and use their own venom against them! I will shape you into their worst nightmare.
“What does this have to do with pest control? Simple, laddie…these aren’t ordinary pests we are dealing with! These are feral, dangerous, killin’ machines! Not of just fruit and vegetables but of ponies! Trust me when I say they CAN and HAVE killed ponies, as I have seen it happen with my very own eyes! I have lost friends to these despicable, vile animals, as they do not know fear, they do not hesitate and they do not know mercy! They just eat and eat and eat. I will drill these facts into yer soft skull every day until ye cannot stop thinkin about ‘em.”
You are shaking in your seat...is it fear? No, it is something else. Is it…excitement? Is it because you feel as if you have some deep-seated desire to do as this crazy stallion desires, to become the ultimate exterminator? To protect the crops your fellow ponies spend weeks, months and years to grow, to help your friend Tomato in the only way you know how, by defeating these ferocious and dastardly bugs though high caliber power? You begin to realize that you will probably see more action in this Stable than anyone in Security will, because they deal with the peaceful pony population. You, on the other hand are against the evil alien invaders of your home, on the side of justice, risking your life day by day fighting a foe that number indefinitely! You are startled as you feel a warm sensation on your flanks…this could only mean one thing. You turn to look at your side and you see your cutie mark, that of revolver silhouette and a targeting ironsight.
Chillblain looks at you with a knowing grin. “Well, we don’t hafta start tomorrow, seeing as you will be celebrating your cuteceñera.” He winks at you.
First a birthday, now a cuteceñera. It seems things are looking up.
Six years later…
You are in the stable alone. It’s that dream again, you fighting hoards and swarms of insectoid abominations, kicking major ass. You are using every weapon available that Chillblain trained you in, revolvers, pistols, shotguns, rifles and machine guns, killing every bug with pinpoint accuracy. You have S.A.T.S. down to an artform. You hear a screeching of a swarm down a corridor, you throw a tin can grenade out of reflex, giving the monsters only seconds before their explosive doom. More screeching, more grenades, more gunfire. You succeed. Everyone comes out of their rooms, cheering for you. Tomato runs up to you and hugs you. “My hero! I think you deserve a reward!” She slowly closes the distance between her and your lips and-
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!
Boom? You don’t remember throwing a grenade in there. That doesn’t make sense…then you panic. Everything is dark. Then thousands of glowing beady eyes appear one after the other, shining like deadly kaleidoscopes. Then the skittering begins, and it becomes louder and louder, the eyes become bigger and bigger and then they overtake you….
You wake up on the floor in a cold sweat, remembering the last moments of your dream. That is rudely interrupted when the emergency alarms are ringing, the klaxons blaring causing pain to your eardrums. You scramble out of your room to look for your father, but he isn’t anywhere to be found. Your train of thought is interrupted once again by the public address system.
“This is not a test! Emergency, Code Blue! The Stable Door has been opened without authorization! Code Blue! This is not a test! Please stay in your rooms, I repeat, please stay in your rooms!”
A Code Blue?! This never happened before! Who in their right mind would open the Stable door knowing what is out there! Unless, someone from OUTSIDE opened it somehow. Then you begin to panic; the radroaches, the giant mantises, the...paradores! You can’t stay in your room; you have to help Chillblain to defend the Stable! You put on your toughest barding, the one labeled “Pest Control”, a bag of tin grenades and grab your 20 gauge shotgun from under your bed. You race out of your room when you suddenly run into Tomato, looking pretty, despite being flustered and having bedhead.
“Lucky! What are you doing outside of your room, you heard what the PA said!”
You wonder the same thing, she isn’t even wearing any armor or carrying a weapon! Tomato takes a moment to look at you then realizes what you are up to.
“Oh, Pest Control! Geez, you’re right, you, Chilly and the Security are the only ones capable of handling any kind of hostile force entering the Stable, bugs or otherwise. I’ll head straight to my room, be careful, okay?” You nod as you gallop past her and toward the Stable exit.
As you approach the giant door you hear a familiar brogue arguing. Surely enough, you see Chillblain screaming his head off, veins visibly protruding from his head like a pop-up book.
“CLOSE THE BLOODY DOOR YOU EGGHEADS, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IS OUT THERE!”
“We are trying, Chill, but there is some kind of encryption that’s preventing us from doing so! We don’t want the bugs in here anymore than you do!” The pony at the keyboard was furiously typing away, trying to decode lockout.
“Ach…Ah, Lucky! There ya are! Hurry, we need ta secure the perimeter to make sure nothing gets in. That giant explosion top side will wake up who knows what…and where is the rest of the bloody Security?!”
Explosion? That explosion in your dream…the one that interrupted your…um, moment, was real?
Sure enough, Chillblain’s fears were coming true as the was a murmuring tremble increasing in volume. The sounds of many legs trampled toward the entrance, causing clods of dirt on the ground to shake.
“Oh, no…that heavy lumbering sounds like a huge swarm of radroaches! Lucky, open the box of frag mines I brought and start setting them up!”
“Mr. Chillblain, good news! We passed the encryption and can now close the door,” the pony at the keyboard exclaimed.
“THEN CLOSE IT, YOU DUNDERBRAIN, YOU ARE WASTING PRECIOUS TIME JUST TELLING ME! Keep setting up those mines, if we can take a few of them out at least they will be gone for good.”
“R-Right. Closing the Stable door! Please remain inside!
You manage to actually plant a dozen mines while that whole conversation took place, your hooves increasingly becoming shakier from both anxiety and the physical vibrations created by the radroaches. You hop inside as the alarm goes off for the closing of the door.
“Alright, fellas,” Chillblain addresses you and the other armed Security ponies. “Keep your guns trained at that door. Even though it’s closing, those roaches are slipperier than an eel covered in butter.”
The ground kept on shaking more and more, while the gap in the door grew smaller and smaller until finally, it was only a sliver. However, in that sliver you see the eyes of something you’ve weren’t expecting.
That is not a radroach.
The door closes shut, the mines behind it beep, then a dozen explosions go off surely decimating whatever is behind that super thick steel door into thin glue. You can hear whatever is not pureed running into the door, like bowling balls. That can’t be right…radroaches are big, but they don’t have any bowling ball sized body parts…
“Ach…I’m getting too old for this. I think I will need a long vacation at the bottom of a bottle,” Chillblain laments, but with a sigh of relief. The other ponies in the room agreed, and started to head back to their respective rooms. Feedback on the PA started with a whine and announced.
“Attention: The Stable Doors are now closed. Please remain in your rooms as we are doing a headcount. After noon, we will have a Stable Meeting in the Atrium.”
You return to your room, hoping to find your father there, but to your surprise, he isn’t there. You try to ask your neighbors in the hallway if they have seen him, but say no, with worry on their faces. To believe that Dr. Quantum would even leave his room during the emergency is unthinkable, but there could be some other reason he was still absent that you can’t think of on the top of your head.
The minutes turn into hours as you wait in your room for your father, even after the headcount pony has come and gone. Then finally, noon comes around and the PA turns on the second it hits 12.
“All citizens please make their way to the Atrium in a calm and orderly fashion.”
And so you go, to the Atrium with all your neighbors and friends, awaiting the news the Overseer has to say. The Overseer, you remember, was your old teacher Mr. Vegetable Broth, he managed to win the lottery for Overseer a few years after you did the C.A.T. You see he is on the stage, talking into a microphone on a podium. His dark green coat is contrasted by his light green mane, and is wearing a necktie for formality sake. However, instead of his cheery attitude, it has been replaced with a more somber, serious look.
“Good afternoon, my fellow ponies. As you know today, if you were awake this morning, there was a large explosion. It did not occur inside the stable, thankfully, but outside, on the surface.” This revelation caused quite a stir among the populace, even you are unsettled. “No one in the Stable was hurt, thankfully, but the crux of the matter happened not long after. For some reason, the computer which controls the Stable Door allowed it to open. Thankfully, we managed to close the door in time.” Relieved voices filled the audience.
“However, after tallying the headcount we have discovered that there are a few ponies missing from our Stable. They include our doctor, Quantum, our head engineer Spanner, and chief of security Hotshot. We have to go under the assumption that they have been ponynapped.” The noise in the audience elevated to great din, while you hear some ponies fainting. “In light of their absences, I decided to promote their subordinates to fill their positions. The next matter of business is, who is going to brave the outside to help return our friends?”
In one fell swoop, the audience became quiet. Is he serious? The Overseer is asking for volunteers to go outside? You look around and everyone is looking at their forehooves, shaking, which is understandable. Fear of the unknown is totally natural…even you are not that eager to step outside after what you just saw.
“I was afraid this would happen. It seems we have to use…the lottery.” A collective gasp fills the Atrium.
“Are you insane?!”
“You’ll gonna get somebody killed!”
“I don’t wanna die!”
“What do you think you are doing?!”
More shouts and objections fill the air as Broth is being verbally assaulted.
“Friends! Listen to me! Whomever gets chosen for the lottery will be given the best armor, medicine, food and other supplies for their trek. However, I am afraid we can only choose one pony, because we need to be careful seeing our head doctor, engineer and our security chief are all gone! We cannot squander any more supplies for more than one pony!”
This seemed to placate the citizens, if only for a little bit.
“I have set the lottery to only include ponies ages 18 to 35. This age range represents the densest population range in the Stable, according to the maneframe, as well as the most athletically fit according to physical records. I would like to say that I am really sorry that it had to resort to this, but since no one will volunteer, we have to select like our ancestors were selected: Luck.”
A computer on wheels was brought up on the stage, hooked up to a screen that revealed a list of all ponies ages 18-35. You see your name by chance in the middle of the list. “Okay everypony…as soon as I hit ‘enter’, the computer roulette will begin. I hate to say it, but…good luck.” Click.
Up to down the names were highlighted, like a waterfall of pixels darkening one line at a time, at first at a fast speed. You can sense everyone involved in the lottery were tracking the bar, that deadly bar of doom guided by the hand of an electronic god of fate. Was the bar going to slow down and stop? Or was it just going to halt after a random amount of time? As if an answer to your thoughts, the bar started to slow down to the point that you can track it rather easily than at the dizzying speed it was before.
Slower,
slower,
s l o w e r,
s l o w e r,
s l o w e r…
Stop.
“Lucky.”
The silence in the room was deafening. The proverbial pin has been dropped, thundering echoes in the Atrium. You know all eyes are on you.
“The lottery has chosen.”
“But, he just turned 18! You can’t just send him out there to die!” Tomato…you thank her in your mind.
“Yes, but as I said, 18 year olds who are physically fit. And, we all know he actually has some experience fighting, thankfully. If anything, he is actually the most capable out of all of us. Ironically, we had to have a lottery to choose him for us…”
“But…but…!” Tomato stammered.
“…I suppose we could have someone go with him, but we cannot afford to give them supplies…they have to supply their own.” The quiet audience betrays you…you want to confront their cowardice, but you can’t blame them…it’s a scary world out there, and Broth is right, you have experience. You know Chillblain would like to go, and you can see it in his eyes from here but as he acknowledged earlier, he is getting too old for this.
“COWARDS! …All of you…” Tomato sobbed as she ran out of the Atrium.
“… Lucky, you don’t have to go right away, you can have some time to prepare, but please remember that the longer our friends stay out there, the lower the chances of their survival. And once again, I am sorry it has come to this. That will be all, everypony.” Broth solemnly stated as he turned the computer off. Everypony started to disperse, leaving you alone where you stood. Slowly, you return to your room.
As promised, the Overseer Broth made sure you were given the most useful armor, weapons, medicine and food of your choice. He even gave you a large wad of money, honestly stating that it may or may not be of some use to you up there, but might as well take it just in case. Tomato came by stating she wishes she could come with you but sadly admits she would only be a burden, as she doesn’t know how to fight, but promises to learn while you are away. The most surprising guest was Chillblain, as you don’t ever remember him coming to your room to meet you in all the years you’ve known him.
“Hey kid. Ya holding up?”
You sit on your bed, despondent .
“Well, I guess that is understandable, considerin’. Listen, I…ya know I want ta go out there with ya, but I…I’m getting on in years. Scars are achin’ everywhere; limp is gettin’ worse every year. I think I will be wheelchair bound soon. They’re bad excuses, I know, but gettin’ old sucks donkey balls.” Chillblain chuckles sadly. “Anyway, I am here to give you a few good things none of those guys in Security can give ya.”
Chillblain pulls out a bag with some heft to it. “First off, I’m givin’ ya some specialized bullets. Armor penetration to pierce through tough shells, hollow point to blow apart flesh, and magic incendiary bullets to set ‘em on fire are in there, about a hundred for each kind of weapon ya got. Spent time makin’ them on days I was bored, didn’t know what I was gonna do with them until now.”
“Next, some high-yield tin can grenades, and their recipe. Instead of 30 grams o’ lead, I put 40 packed in there. More bang for yer buck, ya know?”
“Last, but not least, this beauty.” Chillblain pulls out a gun covered in cloth. Inside reveals a shiny black .357 custom magnum revolver. The handle is redwood with a black engraving of a heart, spade, diamond and a club on each side. “I made it so it’s a hair trigger and added a longer barrel so it shoots more accurate. The cylinder is also modified so you don’t have to maintain it so much. But just because I say that, doesn’t mean ya shouldn’t ya know. I wanted to call it Lucky, but that’d be odd to have a gun named after ya, so maybe you should choose its name.”
“Anyway, I just wanted ta say I’m proud of ya, kid. Ya didn’ hafta actually accept the lotto, I would have raised hell if it were me. But then again, yer dad is one of the ponies missin’ so I think this is the only way you could actually find out what happened to him. If it were anyone else, I’d be worried sick if I were ya. Instead, I will be worried about how you are gonna fare…so, buck up, and give those surface dwellers a taste of the ole Chillblain maneuvers, right? And when ya come back, and YE WILL come back, bring back some info on all the creatures that live up there. Gotta update the encyclopedia, ya know, and we can’t all live down here forever. Gotta spread the word, as they say.”
Chillblain stands up and pats you on the back before leaving. You could have sworn you saw a tear come out of his eye, but the day he cries would be the day the world freezes over, you rationalize.
Everything packed up and ready to go, you head toward the exit. You only see the door tech from last time, Tomato, Chillblain and Overseer Broth see you off. As the door began to creak open, you don’t hear any stampeding bugs, but you see what you thought you saw. And it is more horrible than you can imagine.
Scorpions.
The remains and bits of giant green scorpions that were the result of a dozen mines.
Everyone in the room goes wide eyed at the discovery, especially Chillblain.
“Sweet Celestia on the Sun…”
“Lucky…” Tomato holds her hooves to her mouth.
“Lucky. You know you could walk away from this, and no one will think less of you. We could set up a proper expedition, but that will take days…” Broth advises.
You ponder that option. But if it will take that long, your father will be dead, and he is the only family you have. You can’t take that chance. You rush into the tunnel, running over the scorpion goo and into the unknown. You hear the alarms ring as the door slowly shuts.
“Don’t forget the secret knock when you come back,” Broth reminds you. “Otherwise, you will be locked out forever!”
The tunnel leading to the Stable was well lit and the ceiling look like it was reinforced with concrete. There was lighting affixed to the sides of the tunnel, obviously to make the passage easier to traverse for those who came here long ago and those planning to leave. You also note holes that were dug into (or out of?) the walls, too small for a pony to fit in, but probably big enough for one of the pests you are familiar with. After a minute of walking, you see a door. A simple metal door with what looks like to be a knob on one side. It looks like one of those old doors you saw on the entertainment videos or in a children’s book. You slowly approach the door, listening carefully for any strange sounds on the other side, and when you are sure you hear nothing, you turn the knob and open the door…
…to find a kitchen? Well, that was anti-climactic.
You look around, it’s a pretty large kitchen, but you don’t know who could use a kitchen this large. Then you see a pair of double doors across from you with view holes to look through. You look through the door and see a bunch of tables, some upright, some upside down, some on their side. The interior decoration is pretty fancy, so maybe this is one of those “restaurants” people used to go to eat food when they didn’t feel like making food themselves. Seems kind of lazy.
You go through the doors and look around some more, and you see another pair of doors leading out. No holes to look through, though. Gotta go in blind. You walk up and push the doors to find a huge room that looks like it doesn’t have any particular purpose. Maybe it was a resting area? Wait! You see some papers sticking out of that magazine rack! You rush over and pull out the paper. It reads:
Buffalo Billiard’s Hotel and Casino –Seaddle, Equestria
-Food, Games, Beds, and a Pool! Brought to you by Equestrian Buffalo Reserve
Sweet Celestia. The Stable WAS built under a Buffalo Reserve! In Seaddle! That’s where all the games came from, straight from this casino! Well, I guess that’s one mystery solved.
After being boggled by that earth-shattering revelation, you notice something bright…ridiculously bright. Brighter than all the lamps in the stable put together. It’s from outside that door…which is literally…outside. The outside, OUTSIDE world. Not the outside, inside a casino world. Outside outside.
You can’t stay in here forever…you decide to go through with it. You slowly, nervously walk toward the door. Each step becomes heavier than the last; the beating of your heart makes it feel like the organ was threatening to jump out of your chest.
Only thing left to do is to open that door. Open it. Open it. Open. It.
The sky is blue. The sun is in the sky. Just like in the picture books.
The sea is blue. The smell of saltwater hits you in the face for the very first time. It smells weird. But it’s…calming.
You step outside of a boardwalk hotel and casino facing the sea and beach. To the left, you see a line of stores, and to the right you see a road leading landward and some houses.
Where should you go? To the sea? To the stores? Or toward the mainland?
Vote here
http://poll.fm/3j5l4
or
http://luckysfate.tumblr.com/
Level up!
Level 2
Perk: Hunter- 75% more critical damage against animals and mutated animals
Tagged skills
Guns –> 34
Explosives - >32
Survival ->30
+ 13 skill points to Repair -> 34