//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Fallout Equestria: All for you, Ms. Cheerilee // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// Chance was first through the front door, holding it open to let the others into the stable. They had been on a long patrol to collect supplies. It was not his first trip outside the stable, but certainly the first he had been on that bore the brunt of such a furious raider attack. He had taken it as an opportunity to go out and help. While Chance was still young, he’d spent two years at the stable training for things like this. Well, maybe not exactly like this. One of their own had been killed. Chance hadn’t known him that well, but the loss still hurt. Fortunately, he hadn’t let the killer escape. The raider had gotten what was coming to him - a bullet in the head. That hadn’t been the only revenge Chance had exacted, either. There were a few kinds of dried blood on his armor, and none of it was his. Chance himself hadn’t been injured or even had the strength of his armor tested. The group moved into the stable, lugging the body of their fallen comrade and the meager supplies they’d managed to gather. Chance did his part while still paying attention to the rest. They all seemed down, depressed. After stopping at the clinic to lay their friend to rest, the group somberly dispersed. Chance stepped into the corridor, sighing and finally allowing himself to relax from the intensity of the patrol. He began to unbuckle his armor. Twisting to loosen the plates that covered his flanks, Chance saw something on his hip that hadn’t been there when the armor went on. His eyes widened in surprise and he quickly checked the other side. He’d earned his cutie mark. “Yeah!” Chance pumped a hoof in the air, grinning. He had finally discovered his purpose in life, his special talent. A couple of ponies looked at him curiously, spotting the new cutie mark. As was customary in the stable, Chance was due a minor celebration held in the cafeteria for recognition of the event. Everypony that could show up did. Getting a cutie mark was an important event in a young pony’s life. Also, any excuse for a party was gleefully accepted by the residents of the stable. Everypony enjoyed an excuse to divide up the precious little fresh produce they grew, especially oranges. Chance had expected questions. What did his cutie mark mean? He’d already figured it out. The depiction of barbed wire strands on his hip symbolized his talent for protection, something he had always worked toward. He’d defended the scouting group from the raider attack. Everypony seemed pleased by his explanation. They respected a skilled warrior. Chance basked in their adoration, but something troubled him. Cheerilee hadn’t come to the party. She was in the stable somewhere, and he’d seen her shortly after discovering his cutie mark. She was the only one who hadn’t congratulated him. It bothered Chance a little, but he shrugged it off. A pony’s special talent couldn’t be something bad, could it? Even if it was a cutie mark for something grisly, like some of the raiders had, they could choose to not do it. No, bad ponies were bad because of the choices they made, not what they were good at. Chance couldn’t be a bad pony; he fought them. They deserved whatever they got from him. After all, that’s what his cutie mark symbolized. Time went by, and Chance fell into his new role. He went on more patrols and distinguished himself greatly. It all became almost routine to him, until one day. He was down in the weapons locker, preparing for another trip outside the stable. “That’s the last of it.” Chance tightened the straps on his armor. A variety of weapons had been secured to it. Halberd cast a critical eye over the ensemble, looking for weaknesses. Nodding, the armorer noted, “Looks good, Chance. You’ve really learned a lot in the last few years.” The young stalling grinned. “Thanks. I had a good teacher.” “Come along,” called the mare in question. Cheerilee stood just outside the door of the weapons locker, her shiny armor as pristine as the day Chance had first seen it. He trotted out of the room to meet up with her and they headed for the stable’s front entrance. Chance looked around, troubled by something. He realized that it was just the two of them heading out. “Where’s everypony else?” “It’s just us this time,” Cheerilee informed him. She didn’t explain further. Chance frowned, but as the two of them went up the stairs to the surface he didn’t ask any more questions. Exiting the stable was always a time to be alert to danger. Truthfully, any time they were outside he would do well not to talk much. There were many lessons Chance had learned since arriving at the stable. He’d learned how to handle life in the wastes, how to defend and attack, small skills and large ones. The weapons and armor he carried had seen use before. Several times. In fact, it seemed that his place in the stable would be to follow in Cheerilee’s steps into his adulthood, protecting and serving for the common good. Possibly even teaching some of the younger ones before they get sent off into the wastes. Cheerilee hadn’t said that. In fact, Chance got the feeling she wanted him to take a more active social role in the stable. That wasn’t his place, Chance felt. He was more comfortable outside than when sheltering with the other residents deep below ground. Chance wanted to go out, to really do something. It was how he’d earned his cutie mark, after all. There was no time to see it appear in the heat of battle, but that must have been when he’d gotten it. The previous year, an expedition from the stable searching for supplies had been hit by raiders. Cheerilee had lead the counterattack, and Chance had been right behind her. There was, of course, no way that he could ever match her in battle. That didn’t mean he couldn’t fight like a madpony. In the storm of bullets and blades more than a few raiders had died by his hoof, and Chance had found his special talent. His cutie mark was a wreath of barbed wire, a circle that served as a barrier all around him. Like Cheerilee, his armor was still pristine. He’d never been touched by an enemy. Chance thought that getting his cutie mark would make him more popular around the stable. Most ponies didn’t seem surprised at the mark, however. Most things didn’t change. He didn’t need their approval, however. All he needed was Cheerilee. Since graduating from school, Cheerilee had become more serious towards Chance. He decided that it was just him growing up. He couldn’t treat her like a beloved teacher forever, regardless of her immortality. After all, hadn’t he earned her approval? She’d let him become a searcher like herself, going from the stable to find food, supplies, or ponies in need of help. That didn’t explain her decision to make this expedition just the two of them, however. While Chance didn’t mind the personal time away from other ponies, he was still confused. “Clear,” Cheerilee announced, her voice just loud enough for Chance to make out. He nodded, still dutifully scanning the land around him. The two of them moved off, carefully staying alert. A few minutes passed. There still hadn’t been an attack, and the boulders around the entrance to the stable were beginning to shrink in the distance, leaving no cover for an enemy to hide. For the moment, they were safe. “Where are we going?” Chance asked. “No particular place,” Cheerilee replied. Chance thought for a moment. “Just a patrol in the wastes, then.” “It’s a seek and destroy mission,” Cheerilee told him, glancing in Chance’s direction. He nodded. “I can do that.” Secretly, it pleased him. Killing raiders and slavers made the world a better place. He’d more than given back what they took from him, that night years ago when his family had been murdered. In fact, though he’d never told anypony, the first time he’d killed a raider had been that night. One of the attackers had gone off by himself behind the hut his family called home. Chance, emerging from his hiding place knowing that he was the sole survivor, had stealthily taken his father’s makeshift blade off his father’s body and cut the throat of the raider. He’d done it out of rage, fear, and retribution. Taking revenge felt good, like he was in control, like he wasn’t just a sniveling little colt. It would have been smarter and much safer to instead just slip away. The other raiders had arrived just after he’d finished his first killing. They’d given chase, and finally caught up to him in the field of rocks. It had been Cheerilee that found him that night. She’d taken down the group of raiders. Her actions were part of the reason Chance had grown up to be the pony he was now. Death was the only thing that bad ponies had coming, and he could give it to them. Chance and Cheerilee kept trotting, heading for the horizon. Chance carried supplies for a few days. This was not a routine task, the act of seek and destroy. Cheerilee did not typically authorize this sort of mission. Chance still wondered about that, but was not complaining. The rest of the day passed while Chance watched the daylight track across the sky. A couple of times he caught himself daydreaming. It was hard not to relax with Cheerilee beside him. In combat, she was practically a force of nature and having her by his side took a lot of fear out of him. Chance promised himself that he would do his best to make her proud. In the afternoon, they stopped in a sheltered place to rest for a moment. Chance ate some of the food he had packed. Cheerilee stood by, waiting on him. He looked up, dusting off his hooves after finishing eating. “Are you ready?” Cheerilee nodded and came forward. Chance lowered his neck protector and unwound the bandage on his skin. He closed his eyes and waited. Cheerilee’s touch was light and gentle. The prick of her teeth slicing through the scabbed wound on his neck was just as painful as always, but Chance withstood it without complaint. Cheerilee had eventually accepted his offer to let her drink from him. He was happy to help her. A few minutes passed and Cheerilee finished, cleaning up the last few drops of blood. She helped Chance put a fresh bandage on and got his armor back in place. She tightened the straps and looked him in the eye. “Thank you.” He smiled. The two of them started walking again, continuing on for a few more hours. As night fell, the two of them picked out a spot in the wasteland that was higher than the surrounding terrain and slowly made their way to the top. Using a battered pair of binoculars, Chance helped Cheerilee survey the land. It soon became apparent that there were a few artificial lights clustered in a spot to the north. Cheerilee considered that. “There’s a town in that direction. The last time I went through, they were so poor they couldn’t keep lights burning like that. I felt bad that I didn’t have any candles to give them.” “So what changed?” Chance asked. “Let’s go find out.” The two of them slipped back down the hill and headed for the light. Chance’s senses amped up, now alert for any potential enemy. One could die very easily in the wastes, as he had both seen and inflicted. It paid to be ready. It was nearly dawn when the two of them finally reached the outskirts of the little town. They found a thicket to hole up in and observe for a while. In not very long, an armed guard walked by. His outfit marked him as a slaver. That certainly explained the extra lights around the town, Chance thought. Every resident was probably being held prisoner and their captors wouldn’t want them to escape under cover of darkness. “When he goes by, we’ll slip behind him and scout the town,” Cheerilee whispered. “Why don’t we kill him?” Chance asked. Even in the dim light of predawn, Chance could see the look she gave him. Cheerilee looked disappointed. “That should never be the first step.” Chance backpedaled. “Er, right. We should find out what we’re dealing with first.” As the slaver passed their hiding place, the two of them stealthily crept from cover to cover towards the town. In the rubble of a ruined building, they found a new place to observe from. Slavers with weapons were around, holding captive perhaps a dozen ponies from young to middle age. Chance squinted, picking out a place just beyond the reach of the lights where he thought he saw bodies. That would probably be the older residents of the town, those killed because they were of no use to slavers, or because they had fought back. There was the faint sound of a radio somewhere. Straining his ears, Chance managed to catch a short news announcement from DJ Pon3. “Good evening wastelanders! How's everypony doing? Got some great news for you today! Remember that little Stable Gal who took on the slavers of Appleloosa and saved all those ponies? Well don't ask me how, but she survived takin' a nosedive off a cliff in a speeding train. That's right, fillies and gentlecolts: she's back!” “It’s nice to hear that somepony else is also standing up to fight,” Chance murmured. Cheerilee nodded. “It’s impressive. Appleloosa is, or was, a large center for slavery.” More seriously she continued, “A lot of ponies stand up only to fall back down. The hardest part is staying strong and not compromising what’s right. In that respect, I think The Orphanage helps me even more than I help it. I’ve got friends and a purpose now.” She hesitated, and then added, “It’s not like before the war.” Chance glanced at her, perhaps unwisely curious about what Cheerilee might have done before becoming a better pony. Changing the subject, Cheerilee injected a bit of levity by noting, “And that stable dweller diving off a cliff - in a train, no less - that’s not a fun experience.” Chance did not laugh, only because the slavers might hear him. He and Cheerilee began to prepare for the task that lay ahead. Cheerilee took off her saddlebags and opened them for a quick check. There was a solitary bottle of healing potion they had been able to appropriate from the clinic and some other health aids. Chance slipped off his own pack, lightening the load for battle. “I’m going to provide a distraction to the slavers,” Cheerilee told him. “You get the townsfolk away.” Chance frowned. “But I can help.” “You will be. Give the victims assistance.” Cheerilee nudged the medical supplies towards him. Chance nodded reluctantly. Cheerilee gave him an encouraging smile. “Just do what you think is right, Chance. It’s all I ask.” She turned and exited the rubble they had been sheltering in, stepping into the center of town. The few lights burning flickered across her polished armor. The slavers noticed her and cautiously approached. Anypony willing to walk right into a slaver camp was either stupid, crazy, or had a large sum of money and was looking to buy. Chance paused, watching the eight slavers he could see forming a loose circle around Cheerilee. They hadn’t attacked yet, probably hoping for a lucky sale instead. Chance turned away, quietly making his way around the edge of town to where the captives were being held. He heard Cheerilee begin to speak. “How many ponies live in this town?” Her question was addressed to the stallion who seemed to be in charge. He was rather burly, seeming even larger because of the power armor he wore. Such a thing was rarely seen in use by common crooks, even if his set was old and rusty. Cheerilee didn’t seem impressed. “No ponies live here anymore,” the slaver answered, his voice distorted and metallic through his helmet. “If you’re looking to buy, though, we have twelve.” Still moving unseen, Chance reached the area where one guard still watched over the captured townsponies. Chance did a quick headcount. Sure enough, there were twelve captives. “I’m afraid I’m not going to buy,” Chance heard Cheerilee say. “In fact, I’m going to ask you to let your captives go. After that, you leave town.” The heavily armored pony chuckled. “Are you serious? You’re one of those peaceful ponies, aren’t you, not even carrying a weapon? Know what? So were those slaves we just rounded up. If you notice, the few who fought aren’t for sale.” He chuckled. “You're probably one of those preachers. The ones telling about the goddesses and how the world will thrive through unity. Well, we're not buying. We're selling. And that’s too bad for you. If you can’t fight, it looks like we’ve got a thirteenth for the markets.” Cheerilee’s voice was louder this time as she emphasized her words. It was a tone Chance had heard before, when she covered a particularly difficult subject that she wanted her students to learn. “This is your last chance. Leave peacefully, or die.” She had given them ample opportunity for backing down. Too much, in Chance’s opinion. He heard the heavy steps of the pony wearing power armor. The distorted voice said, “Just try it, little mare. Just try to get through this steel.” Chance strained to hear Cheerilee’s reply. “Well then, I suppose I’ll have to peel you like an orange.” “Huh? What’s an orange?” one of the slavers asked. Chance almost chuckled out loud. He might as well, as it would have gone unheard. In the next instant, all hell broke loose. There was a loud clang as something that sounded like a pony's whole body slammed into the stallion wearing power armor, knocking him over. The guard Chance was watching looked away, his eyes widening at whatever Cheerilee was doing to his fellows. Chance took it as an opportunity and moved forward, drawing his knife. The slaver had turned away, and Chance’s blade easily drove deep into his neck. Blood spurted, gushing over the pristine armor Chance wore and staining his coat. He let go of his enemy’s body, wiping off the knife and resheathing it. The twelve captive ponies stared at Chance with hope that he might be their savior, but fear was still clear on their faces. Anypony who would kill a guard was capable of doing the same to them. “You need to get out of here,” Chance said to the group. “Go, before more slavers come.” “We can’t run if we’re all chained together!” one stallion protested. “Get us free.” Chance hesitated. Based on the sound of it, Cheerilee was busy cleaning up the rest of the town. Pausing to break all the locks that held the prisoners would slow him down. “You have weapons, please protect us!” pleaded a mare in the middle of the group. Alone, Chance was much more effective. Trying to protect a group would only make him slower and more vulnerable. What would Cheerilee do? What would she want him to do? Chance grabbed a large rock and brought his full strength down on the first padlock. He’d grown up quite a bit since joining the stable, and the regular meals and exercise had made him quite muscular. It took a couple of tries, but he shattered the lock. Working as quickly as he could, he managed to free the other prisoners. As the last lock fell away, Chanced ordered, “Everypony follow me!” Mindful that his charges were weak since being captured, and probably not in the greatest shape to begin with, Chance kept the pace slower, alert to danger both up ahead and in every other direction. They reached the edge of town without incident. Chance was almost disappointed. It would have been difficult to fight a slaver while still dealing with the prisoners, but he could have handled it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t get in on the action before the night was over, though. “You should be safe here,” Chance told the townsponies gathered fearfully around him. “We’ll come back for you once the town is clear.” Chance started back in the direction they had come from. One of the freed slaves called, “What about you? Isn’t it dangerous to go back?” Pausing for a precious second, Chance looked back. “Don’t you want these ponies to pay for what they’ve done? That’s what I want.” Some members of the group didn’t want to look at him. Chance realized that there was still blood on his armor. He knew that there were some who couldn’t handle the sight of it, but as long as it had come from bad ponies, he didn’t mind. “Everypony stay here and lay low as long as you aren’t threatened. If you see any slavers, then run. We’ll catch up.” Chance gave them all one last glance and turned, heading back towards town. He ran, hoping to get there in time. The dawn was starting to break over the horizon, warming the sky. Following the sounds of carnage, Chance managed to locate the scene of the battle. Cheerilee held her position in the middle of town, the morning light glinting on her armor. Three slavers were still standing, circling her fearfully. One of them was the power armor-wearing leader. The remaining slavers’ caution and cooperation were the only reason she hadn’t dispatched them yet. Others in their group had not been so lucky, and their broken bodies were strewn around. As Chance appeared, Cheerilee glanced in his direction, frowning slightly at seeing him. One of the slavers noticed her attention was distracted and wheeled around, trying to make a break for it. Cheerilee was on him in an instant, driving a hoof into the back of his neck so hard that the sound of vertebrae snapping was easily heard. The stallion with power armor used the diversion to run in a different direction. Cheerilee tackled him from behind. The heavy metal suit staggered, but the pony inside used the strength enhancements to remain upright. Not for long, however. Cheerilee planted her front hooves, pirouetting into a spinning kick to the helmet that knocked her opponent through a complete flip before slamming into the ground. Jumping on top her quarry, Cheerilee pinned him securely, allowing no escape. Using the ground as an anvil, she drew back and delivered a hammering blow straight to the chestplate of the power armor. The shock raised a cloud of dust like a miniature explosion. The sound wasn’t far off from that, either. The slaver spasmed and fell still, the steel over his torso dented and crushing his body. Chance turned, catching sight of another fleeing slaver. He was closer than Cheerilee and gave chase. Carefully lining up, he hurled a small blade from his kit and hit his target in one hind leg, bringing the pony down. Catching up, Chance avoided a slash from the injured pony’s own knife, deflecting the attack with the steel plate on his foreleg. The knife scratched the surface of the armor. Chance drove his hooves to the slaver’s throat, using the hard plates of his armor to crush and pound at the windpipe. A scream carried to his ears from the other side of town. Chance jerked his head in that direction, a shot of panic going through him. The noise had come from the direction the rescued ponies were supposed to be going. Chance saw Cheerilee pause for an instant, the same thoughts probably going through her head. She took off sprinting in that direction. Chance got up, turning to follow her. He hadn’t made it five steps before there was an explosion of noise from his side and something slammed into his armor, knocking him over. Another slaver, this one a unicorn armed with a shotgun, came out from a ruined building where he had been hidden, pumping a fresh round into the weapon. Chance rolled onto his back, pushing away and trying to put distance between them. “Now that that monster you call Cheerilee left, it’s just you and me.” The slaver took his time advancing on Chance. “She’s not a monster,” Chance spat. “Word gets around. Anypony who spills that much blood can’t be anything but.” “She helps the innocent,” Chance argued. He began to slow down, strategically letting the slaver draw closer. “Cheerilee isn’t evil.” “Matter of perspective.” The slaver raised his shotgun, pointing it at Chance’s face. He was near enough that Chance took a risk, arching his back to kick at the weapon. His ruse worked perfectly, and caught the slaver by surprise. Grappling, Chance got his hooves on the shotgun and stuffed the barrel into the pony’s face, pulling the trigger. Blood flew everywhere, much of it getting on Chance. He slumped, pushing the grotesquely mangled body of his opponent away. Struggling to get up and finally go after Cheerilee, Chance noticed that his legs seemed weak. He took a few steps, turning his head to look back at his hindquarters. There was quite a lot of blood on his armor, slowly dripping off him. Chance’s eyes grew wider. For the first time, it was his blood. He’d been shot, the armor failing to stop the heavy slug from the shotgun. There was a ripped hole in the plating, marring the armor. Chance tried to walk. His strength was fading. Slowly, he staggered towards the edge of town. The walk seemed longer and more painful than it should have been. Chance couldn’t believe how much he was struggling. The rescued townsponies were gathered around Cheerilee. Some of them were injured, with cuts and bruises. Medical supplies that Cheerilee and Chance had brought along were being passed out to them. A dead slaver lay nearby, his wrenched neck showing that a supernaturally strong pair of hooves had killed him. A gun lay by his side, a few fired shell casings spread across the ground. Cheerilee turned upon hearing Chance’s labored steps. The crowd parted, revealing a dying mare on the ground in front of her. The injured pony had been shot, and her breathing was ragged. Chance fought on, but his legs collapsed and he fell to his knees. Raising his face, his eyes meet Cheerilee’s. She was not smiling, looking as sorrowful as Chance had ever seen her. She could have stated what he had done incorrectly. She could have told him that he made the wrong choice. But Chance already knew. He’d made a bad decision; in fact, he’d made it long ago. It all started those years ago when his home was attacked. “We have one healing potion,” Cheerilee said quietly. Chance understood where he had gone wrong. For so many years, he had been concerned with only his own goals of getting a kind of revenge from every bad pony he’d encountered. It was selfish of him, when his purpose was to serve others and protect them. “Give the potion to her,” Chance said. “She deserves it after what I - ” Cheerilee gently stopped him. She knew. She always had. The dying mare accepted the healing potion, Cheerilee holding her head up so that she could drink. As it took effect, her ragged breathing smoothed and the blood flowing from her wounds began to ebb. She closed her eyes and Cheerilee gently laid her down to recuperate. The other townsponies crowded around their neighbor, tending to her. Cheerilee slipped away from them and came over to Chance, kneeling down beside him. He drew a breath, heaving as well as he could against the pain. “That was a noble thing you did, Chance.” Cheerilee’s voice was quiet, personal. It was reminiscent of the same worried tone she’d first greeted him with, when he was a young colt in need of help. Chance didn’t reply, casting his eyes towards the brightening dawn. He wished things had happened differently. If he had stayed to protect the group of prisoners, there might have been a different outcome. He still might have been wounded, but it would have happened while he was fighting for something that mattered. Cheerilee shifted slightly, uneasily. Chance turned his head towards the sound. He had never seen her look so troubled before. She appeared to be putting together something to say. “When I brought you out here, it was a test.” Cheerilee hesitated slightly and went on. “I wanted to know what kind of pony you were. Just you and me, so I could truly see you for who you are.” Chance swallowed, forcing himself to gather the strength to speak. “I’m sorry. I’m not who you wanted me to be.” Cheerilee’s shoulders slumped. “Ponies can’t be shaped, Chance. They have to choose for themselves.” “I’m not the pony I want to be, either,” he whispered. “I don’t know what it would have mattered, but I feel like I could have made a difference.” Cheerilee looked away for a moment. She appeared to be steeling herself for something. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Chance. “I could make you like me. There is always more to do. Another lost foal to take in, ponies to protect.” Weary as he was, Chance’s ears didn’t manage to perk as much as that statement deserved. It was a red line, one of Cheerilee’s personal codes that she simply did not compromise. And yet, she was offering to go back on that for him. “What would I do with that?” Chance asked. “So much stronger, faster, tougher. Do you think I could stop myself?” “I believe in you. You’ve always been a good learner. Willing to grow. You never wanted to hurt another, just rid the world of the bad.” Cheerilee stared at him. “That means a lot to me. You always have meant a lot.” Chance shook his head as much as he was able. “But I can’t put that much faith in myself. I know what I’m capable of, what I like. It wouldn’t matter if I did or didn’t. I think the guilt would be too much.” Cheerilee dropped her head and squeezed her eyes closed, silently containing her feelings. She let out a breath and looked up to meet his eyes. “Chance, I took you on this trip to test you. I needed to know you weren’t going bad. I know what evil ponies, monsters, look like. I’ve seen far too much of that in my time. I’ve slipped a few times myself.” She paused to look back at the dead slaver. “I want to thank you for not becoming one of them.” A faint smile came to Chance’s lips at her approval. He closed his eyes. Cheerilee leaned over to cradle him against her, and wept.