//------------------------------// // Intermission Three // Story: Fallout: Equestria- The Last Sentinel // by Adder1 //------------------------------// Intermission Three Well, folks, it's getting late again. As usual, going to bring us back to forty years ago for a brief segment before you all head to bed. But even if it's brief, by no means is it unimportant. * * * I looked over the crowd gathered at the Social Sciences Lecture Hall at Stalliongrad Community College, breathing out a weary sigh. “That's enough for today,” I said. “More tomorrow. Just remember what I asked of you before I started- to withhold all judgment until everything's said and done. I won't be taking any questions tonight. We'll begin again tomorrow. Farewell.” I eased a little deeper into the wheelchair as everyone started filing out of the lecture hall, chattering amongst themselves. There were a few that had concerned, even angry expressions as they bickered with one another. Not many, though. I was relieved that going those extra couple of installments past revealing my relationship with Luna stemmed the raging waters... or at least it seemed to. One particular stallion caught my eye as he headed for the exit, his face laced with an expression of contempt. “Xamuros,” I called to him, and he paused, looking back to me as if irritated. “Think on what I told you- all of you- about Luna. She wasn't Nightmare Moon. She wasn't a vassal of the stars. She wasn't some tyrant bent on securing ponykind's superiority in the world with herself at the pinnacle. She was a person, an equine being just like any of us, confused and lost in a world that long changed from the one she knew.” I let out a sigh. “Think on that.” He frowned and glanced away, letting out his own sigh before wordlessly leaving me behind. Only Rig and Soraya remained behind now. The earthen-brown unicorn mare stood and moved to face me. “You... you were in love with Luna...” she said to me, not out of disbelief but as if letting it sink in. Her gaze was turned downward as if speaking about me, not to me. “You weren't smitten, it wasn't a crush... you were really in love with her.” I said nothing. “So that's why you became a Lunar Guard, then.” Rig continued. “All the secrets, everything...” Eyes on me. Indigo eyes so bright and shining. “Say something, Frost. Just... say something to us.” I let out a weary sigh as I wrapped the loose bandage around my mouth once more. “What is there to say that can't wait for everyone else?” “There has to be something.” Her eyes were searching for something. “I mean... all that, was it worth killing to keep secret?” I glanced at Soraya. She glanced right back. “I guess there is something,” I said. “I'm two-hundred-seventeen years old, Rig. I've only gone through thirty-five of those years. The war drums have only just started to beat. And though war, war never changes... war changes everything. There's always more to the story, Rig. You just have to let it be told.” “... how bad is it?” “Worse than Miranda and Wendy,” I answered without pause. Rig glanced away and flattened her lips. She said no more. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd like to be alone again for tonight,” I said. The cloud-maned mare looked back at me. “You want to see her again, don't you?” I sighed softly. “Yeah.” She glanced away momentarily, then asked, “How do you do it? It can't have been easy losing somepony like her...” I huffed softly, “Understatement of the year.” Then I sighed. “You already know part of the answer to that, Rig. You'll find out the rest... just... later. Don't make it harder for me.” She rubbed her shoulder- her natural shoulder- and turned away, nodding. “Happy birthday again, by the way,” I nickered. That got a smile from her, even if a small one. “Gotta admit your story's one hell of a gift.” I cracked a thin smile in turn. It probably didn't show up past the bandages. “Let's go, Soraya. Sly and Xamuros are probably at the Rusty Steed. Take care of yourself... alright, Frost?” “You too,” I said with a stout nod as she started off. Soraya stood and followed, but not before resting a claw on my shoulder. To me, that comforting gesture did more for me than anything she could have said. And then I was alone again. I let out a deep sigh and closed my eyes. “Are you there, Nightingale?” I could sense her behind me now, draping a wing across my back. “Always,” she whispered. “Reaction went as expected,” I murmured. “I know.” I opened my eyes. She was hovering just out of view. But I could feel her close to me. That's all I cared about. “It's getting close to the moment.” “I know.” “Are you nervous?” “Are you?” I sighed softly. “Very.” “Very.” She paused. “Do you feel any better, finally getting it off your chest?” I snorted and cracked a smile- and my lips with it. “Heh... no, same as ever. 'The truth sets you free.'” I shook my head. “Never has.” She didn't protest, didn't argue. She merely wrapped that wing tighter across my back. I suddenly felt the great weight hanging onto my heart drag it deeper, and I shuddered, shivered. I longed to feel those feathers again... Such a simple thing. Such a simple thing. And it led to so much more longing. I longed for the lights of Manehattan. I longed for the sunny, smiling town and the sunny, smiling ponies of Ponyville again. I longed to feel the cool night breeze. I longed to feel the sun again. I longed for those olden days, golden days. And I longed to see her alive again. The storyteller glanced downward, lips creased in a frown, his expression pained, stained. It was as if he was holding back the tears. It was as if he'd held them back far too many times. Then he let out a sigh and continued. But I'd soon be feeling those feathers again, at least, after I recovered. That is, if Luna was right about what she told me. Can't break down. Just focus on the good. Focus on the good. What little good there was. I inhaled and turned to face her. “L-” I started, then stopped as she edged out of my vision faster than I could track. “Love? What's wrong?” “You shouldn't see me right now,” she said quickly. “Why?” “Just... trust me.” “... is it bad?” I asked quietly, slowly facing forward again to give her enough time. “It's... better for you this way,” she answered. “Better how?” “Just trust me, Frost.” I sighed softly, mistily. “I've grown to hate that phrase.” “Me too.” I only nickered in response. “Frost. Someone's coming.” And then she was gone. I let out a sigh and grimaced. I did not wish to be interrupted in the middle of this. “Well?” I called out to the lecture hall. “I know you’re here.” The door near the top of the hall creaked open, and in stepped the last person I wanted to see. Grimm. The former cosmonaut visibly winced as the door creaked again on its way back. “You know, for your age, you've got good hearing,” he remarked in his greasy, slithery tone. “How did you get here?” I asked, scowling. “More importantly, why are you here?” “Well, just look at me,” he said with a grin, descending the aisle stairs. “No feathers to rustle in the wind, black-on-black suit design, and I can fly, unlike Malcom- as he insists on me calling him. Oh, that brings me to why! I'm! Here!” He clapped his hands together- quietly. “I've got some good news aaaaaand... some bad ne-” “Bad news first,” I grunted. Grimm slumped and went slack-jawed. “Seriously? Just... deadbeat 'bad news first?' Jeez, you're more depressing than Malcom, you know that? You need a little vitality- oh, yes, that's good- so, good news first!” He clapped his hands together again- quietly. “So! Good! News! Is! I'm not here to kill you! Now, doesn't that comfort you? Doesn't that make you breathe a bit easier, hm?” “So what's the bad news?” “Guess not,” he said with a grimace. “Bad newsssss... Yagmarth is coming. Which is really, really bad news for you guys.” I stared at him. “And he would be your top leader.” “YYYYeah.” Grimm nodded slowly. “Who even you are afraid of.” “No!” he protested. “... yes.” I did not need this. We did not need this. “Why is he coming?” I asked, a demanding edge to my tone. “Yeah, see, he's wondering why we're taking so long because, well, you know, we're on a schedule,” the griffin ghoul said, grimacing and rapping his talons together. “Then he heard about the fighting, the ceasefire, aaaand he's... kinda pissed. Malcom just wanted me to let you know that, soooo, that's it for me! Toodles!” “Stay put,” I ordered as he started off. He then proceeded to stick a partly rotted tongue back at me. “Make me.” Maintaining a straight face, I fired up my horn and procured his crimson balisong. “... dammit,” he grunted, sitting on his haunches. “Alright, what do you want?” “So he's coming to Stalliongrad,” I said, slipping his balisong away and sublimating my arm. I let out a cool breath, mind and heart racing. “If that's 'bad news,' am I to take it he's not going to uphold the ceasefire?” “Nope,” Grimm grunted. “He's definitely coming in force. What, you're going to hold my baby ransom for a game of Twenty Questions?” “You'd like it to be that simple, wouldn't you?” I huffed. “No, this...” I procured his balisong once more, an idea- a crazy idea- starting to form in my head. “Would you say that the memories it represents are important to you?” I asked, building steam. “Mm-hm...” he nodded slowly, pursing his beak childishly. “Just like your suit,” I said, motioning to him. “Yes...” he answered, the childishness turning into confusion and leeriness. “Where are you going with this?” “Say, if I were to destroy either, it would-” “Don't you dare!” he snapped, the pilot light popping to life on his flamethrower. Even if that action alone caused my heart to skip a beat, I grinned behind the bandages. “Interesting. Riddle me this, then- what’s so special about it? Huh?” He snorted, “Well I’m not going to tell you.” I waited five seconds. “Okay, it’s just… you know? Piece of… you know. I mean, what am I gonna use it for?” He motioned to his wrist-mounted flamethrower. “It’s dull for Aldasake! It’s just…” “A memento,” I finished. He shrugged, then inched his lit flamethrower toward me, glaring. “So don’t you dare think about destroying it,” he rasped. I inhaled slowly, the gears turning in my head. “So, Grimm Asher, alias Javahl, God of Vitality and Atrophy, one of the many leaders of the Dead Boys... if what Malcom told me about you is correct, that name is not yours. You took it from the original Dead Boys that defended and retook Stalliongrad. You took it to inspire that same valiance and defiance against impossible odds and incredible losses. You took it to send a message to the Enclave and make their blood turn to ice upon the mere mention of that name.” The pilot light went out, and he turned his head slightly to look at me with only one eye. He was searching me now, that rage replaced with something else. “Do you want to see Stalliongrad burn, Grimm?” I asked, returning the gesture. “Is all that meaning lost on you? Are you as much a 'Callow Elder' as you claim to be?” He faced me. I faced him. “Life is meaningless if we make nothing of it.” “Meaning is lifeless if we take nothing from it,” he completed. “Teachings of the Callow Elder.” He leaned back, searching me once more. “Who are you? I thought I knew who you were once, that equinpologist with bright and curious eyes who stopped in my shop. Then we met again, you in armor of the Lunar Guard, hiding. Who are you?” I maintained my straight posture and my straight face. “We all have names we choose or borrow. Mine’s the Sentinel.” I fired up my horn, sprouted an arm, held up his balisong. “And this is going to be your advance payment.” He turned his head more. “Advance payment?” “You're a leader of a paramilitary organization for hire. And I want to hire you.” Grimm faced me fully, beak slightly ajar. “What?” “I want you to return to Malcom,” I instructed. “Then I want you both to send my message to your troops. Then I want you to go contact Argus- that's his real name, isn't it?- and tell him just what he's doing by choosing to strike Stalliongrad yet again over something as simple as 'retribution.'” “Hm... you're thinking dangerous.” The griffin ghoul grinned. “I like dangerous.” He pointed at his balisong. “So that's the advance payment. How much for completing the job?” “Well Stalliongrad's still producing,” I answered. “I'd imagine your flamethrower's suffered some wear and tear. And they're not commonplace. Same with your suit. I'd say a proper refit and repair would cover it.” I lifted his balisong. “Personal first.” Then tilted it toward him. “Monetary second.” Grimm pursed his beak and nodded slowly. “And the message?” he asked, reaching out with a claw. I answered, “Tell him exactly what you all stand to lose by attacking Stalliongrad again.” We clasped hands, his balisong between them. “And tell him that it comes from Frostbane Hokkaido Windchill, former paladin of the Lunar Guard, formerly private first class of Sierra squad of Delta Brigade, also known as the Dead Boys.” * * * “Holy crap, you actually got him to work for you?” Rig remarked in disbelief the next morning. She and Soraya came early with breakfast- and biscuits. Thank Lorn for them... “Still got it,” I said with a slight grin. “Nevertheless, if what we've heard of Yagmarth is any indication, I doubt Grimm or Malcom would be able to convince him to cancel plans for an attack,” Soraya stated. “And can we even trust him in the first place?” Rig added. “Fair points on both accounts,” I said, “but it’s not like we have many options on the table. Even if we got all working equipment in combat-ready condition, Stalliongrad’s lost too much of her militia between the last two attacks. If the Dead Boys come in force, it’s a battle we can’t win, especially if those currently stationed here turn out to be more afraid of Yagmarth than loyal to Malcom. If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight, even though the ruler forbid it; if fighting will not result in victory, then you must not fight, even at the ruler’s bidding. And right now, it seems like the Dead Boys are looking for a fight and they have their ruler’s bidding.” “So what’s the plan, then?” Rig asked. “We don’t fight,” I answered, “but we sabotage all production infrastructure here. If the Dead Boys are going to take this city without a fight, we won’t let them enjoy the spoils.” “Just like during The Great War,” Soraya remarked. “Just like during The Great War,” I echoed. “We have our mission. We’ll evacuate the city, then we head for Stable Seventy-Two once I’ve recovered enough. We still need to get you that water talisman.” Rig scowled. “Dammit…this is just like the those ponies chased by those raiders. Are we seriously turning away from this again?” “It’s not the same, Rig,” the ebony giant said, turning to her. “We have the opportunity to avoid a confrontation entirely with no loss of life. Would you rather we lose still more good people to a fight we can’t win?” “So what, we’re gonna pull out of the city?” she retorted. “Where are they gonna go? Most of them can’t fly, so they’ll have to traverse the Divide to get to any place they can live. Do the people here even have provisions for that? The Dead Boys have been restricting travel to Stalliongrad for over a week, which means we’ve already lost that week’s worth of supplies. Even if there’s fewer mouths to feed after the attack, you saw how many wounded there are. They won’t survive the journey south!” “There’s always the Stable just outside city limits,” I said. “They can take shelter there.” “For how long?” Rig asked. “Do they even have a proper food supply?” I sighed, “No… it was ransacked by the raiders when they took over the city. If it isn’t spoiled through improper storage, then it’s already been eaten.” “So if Grimm of Malcom can’t convince Yagmarth to cancel his attack plan, we have to break the deadlock,” she said, crossing her forelegs. “We fight back and push the Dead Boys out. Then we re-establish contact and trade with the Capital Wastes, we get the water talisman to Stable Three, then we head to Tenpony to tell Treble Clef what the Dead Boys are up to.” Soraya and I shared a look. “Rig… that’s provided we actually survive,” I said. “If anything, we risk losing more than if we evacuate the city.” “And the people of Stalliongrad risk either running into Yagmarth on the way down and get slaughtered, or they try to bypass the long way around and die of starvation or infection,” Rig said, scowl intensifying as she leaned closer. “Meanwhile, we run away and try to do our job. You say it’s not like the time with the raiders. I say it’s pretty damn close. And this time, we can help. We flee or hide, we all lose. Fighting’s the only sure way to result in victory.” She teleported out a cigarette and lit the tip, popping it into her mouth. “So we’re fucking fighting.” Soraya and I shared a look once more. “What’re your thoughts?” I asked. The griffin hybrid inhaled deeply. “She’s right.” “Right how?” I frowned. “Even if we win, unless we give them an uncontested smackdown, we risk them regrouping for another attack.” “Well I doubt Yagmarth’s going to let us slip away in any case,” Rig snorted. “He’ll want to hunt them down if he’s already vengeful enough to strike the city again.” I let out a sharp breath and hung my head,  letting out a soft, short chuckle in spite of myself. “You know, Rig, this is breaking every single damn rule I set before we started traveling together.” “And those rules have let people die, and they’re gonna let even more die,” Rig huffed. I looked her in the eye. “This is on you, then, understand?” She looked me right back with those bright indigo eyes. “You got it, boss.” I glanced down at that. “Looks like I’m not your boss anymore.” I inhaled deeply and let it out sharply. “Can’t do much as is right now, so I’ll have to ask you to do it for me. Soraya, with Snowbourne dead, Keperskaiya is the acting militia leader. Find her, tell her we need to enact the contingency plan, and if she objects, tell her Rig’s arguments. She won’t like having her hoof forced, but like Rig said, our options are limited. Rig,” I turned to her, “head to the Hammer and Horns. If you run into Xamuros- and I hope you do- tell him to get a well-equipped team ready and get to scouring the ruins for medical supplies. I also need you to tell Chief Thunderhooves we need to ramp production up. We need everyone properly equipped and armed. And tell him we’re going to need all the gas and the best catalyst gems we can get.” “Fuel?” Rig asked. “For what?” “Tell him it’s for Little Kate and the Black Cats. He’ll know what I mean.” Rig had a lovely smirk. And then she galloped off. I inhaled slowly. “When did she learn to talk like that?” “To be fair, you did leave your copies of Lying, Parliamentary Style and How to Win Friends and Influence People out for everyone, plus your personal annotations,” Soraya said. I blinked, then growled, “Fucking dammit.” “She’s right though. This is a fight we can’t surely avoid.” “Should Grimm fail,” I noted. “Should Grimm fail,” she echoed. “I totally failed,” Grimm said. “Twilight bucking Sparkle!” I growled, turning to him. “When did you get here?” “Like… five seconds ago?” The griffin ghoul shrugged. “Sup, Soraya.” “Shut up, Grimm,” she said flatly. “Ouch… first kisser I get in decades and she gives me the cold shoulder,” he said with a pout. “So, uh, Frost.” He shrugged. “Sorry, bud. Didn’t cut it. Hell, even Malcom pitched in, and the big guy couldn’t be moved. Sorry to say, but in four, five days, uh, you guys are fucked.” “Well if it’s a fight he’s looking for, then it’s a fight he’s gonna get,” I said. Grimm blinked. “Well good luck. Now, about my payment…” I sighed, “Soraya, on your way, stop by Benson’s. Clear him.” “Understood,” she said. “You haven’t left yet,” I noted. “Neither has Grimm.” He looked between the both of us before getting her message. “Ohhhh! Right, right, gotcha.” He gave a thumbs-up before sneaking his way out. Soraya sighed, “We’re going to have to fight him again, won’t we?” “Well he knows we’re going to fight back,” I said, “yet he didn’t try to burn us to a crisp at our most vulnerable time.” She grimaced. “Don’t tell me you see a potential ally in him after what he did to you. To us. To Alhambronco, no less.” “I don’t,” I answered. “I see one less potential thorn in our sides.” She huffed softly. “So we have our orders. What about you?” “Well we’re going to have to wind down and relax eventually,” I said to her. “And I still intend to tell my story.” * * * That should be it for tonight, folks. Junction R-Seven needs its usual night patrol back in the saddle. Until next time, everyone. Steel yourselves. War is approaching- then, and further back. * * * Footnote: Frost- Maximum Level Rig- DLC bonus XP acquired! Level Up! Level 18 reached! Soraya- Maximum Level Unlockables added: Soundtrack- Olden Days, Golden Days Soundtrack- A Deal with the Devil Soundtrack- If Fighting is Sure to Result in Victory...