//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: This is my Rifle // Story: Fallout: Equestria - Our Finest Hour // by MintCakeWrites //------------------------------// "Let the foal try along try along this blade" Silence. All I'm aware of is an artificial silence that holds this place still. The strange nothingness persists, as if it's cleansing the room of all life until I am the only one left. All that exists is myself and the everlasting dark. The darkness surrounding my head clears slowly, a heavy fog of exhaustion lingers around my body. I've been drugged, sedated heavily. I can barely move a muscle, but my half closed eye can still detect shadows. One such shadow peers over me, tapping at a monitor above my head. I try to call out to them, only making a slight grunt. The shadow stops, turns to look at me. Surprise at first, followed by a smile. The shadow strokes my right hoof gently, and I feel all my worries fade. "It's OK Rivet, we'll put you back together. You just need to sleep for a little longer." A mare. A pegasus mare. She turns around, the sound of her hooves clack against the floor followed by a soft rustle of feathers as she pushes a set of doors open and leaves the area. I try to check myself again, twitching up to my stomach before another hoof is placed on my chest. "Try not to move Mr Bolt, the stitches have yet to take hold fully and there's still work to be done." A stallion, the one who wanted to euthanize me. I'm glad he changed his mind. I hear him turn and walk in the same direction as the mare, the doors opening to the sound of three other ponies, one pacing restlessly. "How's he doing?" "He's stable ma'am, but the real challenge begins now. One slip and we'll loose him for good." "Do not let that happen doctor, he needs to survive for the good of all Equestria. We need him alive and fit for duty as soon as possible." "Understood ma'am, but may I ask something first?" "... Go on." "Well... what exactly are your plans for him? How will this benefit anypony other than himself?" The doors swing shut and all outside sound is blotted out. I'm left alone on a slab, blind and groggy, but better than before. I try to twitch again, only to feel my skin tighten unusually. My body was covered in stitches, soon to be scars. At least they'll make me look more rugged than before. I manage a smile at the thought, maybe a certain somepony will take notice of me. A realisation crosses my mind, and my smile falters. That poor mare, I wonder if she still thinks she loves me. She only met me a few... ah, how long have I been here? Better question, where is here? It's a hospital, certainly one of the better equipped ones if a cybernetics expert is resident. It's almost as if the cogs on my flank turn with the cogs in my head as I piece everything I know together. My thoughts mesh and web, dancing and weaving themselves as I think. It's harder than normal, the anaesthetic dulling my senses. I continue trying to solve the puzzle, but give up after ten minutes. I'd find out soon enough anyway. The doors swing open again, two sets of hooves walk up to the slab before a third joins them. A slight hum of magic sounds, and a mask is placed over my mouth and nose. "No need to panic Mr. Bolt, we'll have you better than new before you know it. You just need to sleep one more time, and when you wake you'll be a brand new pony." The stallion surgeon seems to be eager at this part of the operation. Whatever they're doing to me, he's happy to be taking part. That's probably why I could never get along with doctors, they creep me out. Enjoying a job that requires ponies to nearly die, it's just wrong. Then again,who am I to judge? I'm the pony who kills zebra for a living and I'm idolised for it. A hiss of gas, and the world turns foggy again. My eyelid closes by itself, my senses dull and my body grows heavy. My entire existence is swallowed up by the slab and the darkness, and I fall into my past once again. The chariot rocked from side to side, the wheels striking the unpaved ground with particular malice as if they were long enemies. Xander and I had already gone beyond acquaintanceship, having told each other of our home and our past lives before the war. He was from a town underneath Canterlot, owning a small food stall. His father had left his family when he was still a colt, his mother left to raise him and his sister on her own. He was an odd unicorn, having only recently been able to tap into his magic. When I pressed him for a reason, he changed the subject rapidly as if he was afraid of his own magic. "Are all earth ponies like this? Are you so fascinated by magic you feel the need to interrogate unicorns?" Xander's patience was wearing thin, but there was so much I needed to know. "It's not that, I'm just surprised that you've only recently used magic for the first time. I mean, how old are you?" My curiosity was spiraling out of control, an issue I had ever since I gained my cutie mark; I didn't just understand, I felt compelled to figure everything out. Xander gave a sigh, and looked out of the window wistfully. His reflection betrayed his emotions, his eyes were full of memories best forgotten and his lip began to quiver. I raised a hoof to comfort him, but thought better against it. "I'm old enough Rivet. We're all old enough." with a hoof he gestured to the ponies sat around us on the chariot. Many were muscled stallions, ex-factory workers at a guess, but the odd mare sat amongst them. "But I must ask, if we're ready for this." I nodded silently, I studied each and every pony. Some had the glint of fame and honour in their eyes, several held the same stony look my father and his chariot held and one stood out from the others. A sunset-orange mare sat alone, her face was set in a half smirk as she held something in her hooves hidden from my view. She looked up at me, and caught my eyes. It was as if time had stopped for the brief moment we exchanged looks. Her soul screamed malevolence and hatred as it peered through her pupils, as if it wanted to break out and rend me limb from limb. She flicked her mane over one eye, smiled gently and the anger was gone. I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding, dragging another one in as I felt cold sweat run. I felt myself torn. The sensible side of me wanted to kick open the door and flee in fear of what she was capable of, whilst my curious side dared me to get closer. A pat from Xander broke me out of my stupor, a quizzical look on his face. "You alright? You look like you've seen the Pony of Death." I blinked, shook myself and forced a smile. "At least she's happy to see me." Xander raised an eyebrow, before grinning and bursting into laughter. Unable to keep a straight face, I joined in and soon we were on the verge of tears with mirth. Looking back now, it's strange that we laughed at the idea of meeting the Pony Reaper. We had both been touched by the pain of death, but it seemed almost ridiculous that such a thing could exist. A stallion cleared his throat loudly, breaking what remained of our joy. A red beret hid one ear and covered his horn. A bronze sun adorned the front of the ceremonial head wear, as did a scar across his face. "Would you two get a hold of yourselves? These ponies are prepared to die for Equestria, so stupid colts like you can giggle away at you fleeting fantasies of being soldiers." His words shook all on board, but held our attention. "We no longer have the opportunity nor the privilege to laugh or smile because the zebras we will kill won't have them either. We are our country's last hope against this menace, our families' last hope, our friends' last hope. We will march into battle with the thought of killing or being killed." He stood from his seat and surveyed the entire chariot, not caring how many eyes were on him and how many were filled with tears; patriotic or fearful. He coughed slightly, and continued in his gruff voice. "So I ask you, stallions and mares on this dead pony's chariot, are you ready to give yourself up for your country? Are you ready to make the sacrifice that so many others have made? Or are you like these fools" - his hoof pointing at me and my unicorn companion - "and this is just a game? If you're the latter, then get off this chariot. There is no room for colts and cowards in this army." He turned and walked back to his seat, the chariot falling silent save for the sound of the ponies pulling the machine and the squeak of the wheels. After a few minutes I rose to my feet and staggered over to him, the ground destroying the suspension of the the chariot in revenge for the treatment it received earlier. The stallion glanced over at me, his sapphire blue eyes studying me as I studied him. Numerous ribbons and medals decorated his uniform, as the scars disfigured his grey coat. I looked up to his beret, noting his mane had been cropped, hidden beneath. "You just gonna stand there colt, or are you going to say something?" He had finished his overview of me and from his tone I cold tell he was unimpressed. "I want to apologise, sir, for our previous behaviour. I understand what you've been through, and maybe we aren't old nor mature enough for war but I'm more than ready to die for my beliefs." I stood my ground and snorted slightly, preparing for the shoot down of my life. "Hmph, what's your name?" Not the reply I was expecting. "Bolt sir, Rivet Bolt" "Of Manehead?" I nodded, my bracing stance faltering as I felt my body droop; it was almost insane that such a connection would occur, but maybe it was inevitable. There are only so many officers in the Equestrian Army. The stallion's hoof landed on my shoulder and a regretful sigh came to life. "Corporal Wrench was a damn fine soldier son, one of the best I've served with. You should be proud." "Thank you sir, but I'm not here to be my father. I'm here to fight for the good of all ponykind and to make my mother proud to be a Bolt again." I mentally kicked myself for forgetting how big an influence my father must have been in his platoon after his stand. The stallion smiled and stood up, holding out his hoof. "You're right son, you're your own pony. Work hard, fight hard and come home alive for your family. Come home alive for all of Equestria." The officer stood and walked past me, leaning his head out a window and calling out to the pulling ponies. "How much longer?" "Ten minutes Officer Slate," came the reply. I stood, looking at the foreboding grey walls of my new home. Ten minutes until I became another instrument in the orchestra of the Equestrian war machine, just another cog in the monster we've become. I looked over at Xander, who was peering out at our voluntary prison. We were old enough to fight, and no zebra was going to care if we were too young to die. "Fillies and gentlecolts, welcome to Camp Torntail!" We disembarked the chariot after passing through numerous security checks and gates, Xander's anxiety growing with each nod and barrier peaking when we stepped on the dirt floor. The pulling ponies booted a panel and the doors slammed shut, turning the chariot around and walking back out. A tall, bulky stallion stood waiting for us, clad in a red shirt and wearing an expression full of discontent. He stood to attention as Slate walked by, the other pony nodding at him, before turning to look at us. "I am Sergeant Hartpony and I will be your WORST nightmare for the next six weeks. In these six weeks you will change from being the milk suckling fillies stood before me into the best killing machines the Equestrian Army has ever seen!" Our disorganised rabble barely understood what the sergeant had just said, busy studying the inside of the fortress. Hartpony broke our freedom in one move, walking up to a cloud white pony and staring him right in the eye. "Is there a reason nopony is replying, recruit?" the stallion stared straight at the unfortunate buck, crushing all his spirit by sight alone. As the poor pony was placed under this torture, the rest of us had the sense to put ourselves in some kind of order in time for him to interrogate each and everyone of us. "USELESS! Get your shit together recruit or you will be killed out there," his attention came to the orange mare from the chariot. "Why is nopony replying recruit?" "Because we are untrained milk suckling fillies sir!" Her response shocked most of our group, and even the sergeant seemed taken a back at her outburst. The otherwise silent mare had the voice of a manticore and twice the fierceness. "Well spoken recruit, what's your name?" "Sunset, sir!" "Ain't that pretty?" Hartpony turned away from her and studied each of us. "You see that stallions? THAT is the sort of discipline I expect from you. I am not training you to be my weapon, I am not training you to say yes to every order. I am training you to be the best damn ponies there can be in this army and to make Luna proud with every single kill you make until your body is riddled with bullets and you're pissing yourself when the Reaper Pony turns up and takes your soul. IS THAT CLEAR?" "Sir, yes sir!" we chanted in reply, more terrified of what this insane stallion was capable of than any zebra. "WHAT IN CELESTIA'S NAME WAS THAT?! DID I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" "SIR, YES SIR!" "FIVE MILE CANTER NOW, MOVE IT!" We all scrambled to maintain our places as we ran through the camp and into a neighbouring forest, our hooves striking the ground in a strange disharmony as we ran. Hartpony cantered alongside Sunset, Xander and myself, barking out what we were in store for over the next month and a half. "Your days in hell will begin with this every morning, when you're done it's drill practice until you're doing it in your sleep. Playing with guns comes when I say so and only when I say so." "Sir, yes sir!" By the end of the run, we were all dead on our hooves, barely able to stand up. None of us were prepared for such intense exercise from the word go. Hartpony took this as the opportune moment to have us run the assault course in pairs, me joining the white buck who had received Hartpony's earlier tirade. We galloped together, dragging in ragged heaves of air as our lungs flamed in protest. We clambered over a wall, hitting the mud on the other sides heavily before crawling to a tunnel. All light was blotted out as soon as we entered the claustrophobic space, the scratch of our hooves on tiny stones and mud echoed around and blocked out almost all other sound save for the obscenities Hartpony screamed at us. I burst out of the tunnel, crawling for fresh air and freedom. I forced myself to drink up the air, before a hoof came down on my back. Pain racked through my exhausted body, I could barely let out a squeak at the agony of the attack. "ZEBRAS WON'T CARE IF YOU'RE FIT AND HEALTHY OR ON YOUR LAST LEGS WHEN THEY KILL YOU!" Hartpony directed this onslaught to the others rather than myself as I tried to squirm out from underneath him, "YOU WILL NEED TO BE PREPARED AT ALL TIMES, ELSE YOU WILL DIE." Grimacing, I turned over and gripped onto the offending leg. I pulled and twisted, throwing the Sergeant onto the floor before standing up. My vision was shaky, my legs were about to give at any second and my head was spinning. Hartpony was right, I was going to die if I wasn't ready. A blow from behind threw me to the ground, Harpony's voice hissed into my ear, "What the fuck do you think you're doing recruit?" "D-defending myself, sir," my back groaned in agony as my form was pressed into the dirt. The pressure lessened and hooves dragged me to my feet. "Stand to attention and state your name, recruit." I stood up as best I could, gasping "Rivet Bolt, sir." "Wrench's lad?" "Yes sir." A nod of approval, and Hartpony turned away from me, "Live up to his name and you might make a half decent soldier Bolt. All of you, get to your bunker and put on your uniform. Drill practice is in twenty minutes." "Sir, yes sir!" Xander came over, propping me up and we walked to a mess of corrugated iron and wood. We all walked in silence, stunned by the events of the last few hours and in a state of near breakdown. Only Sunset and a few of the older stallions walked with their heads held high, ready to take on the world. We entered the bunker, walking to our possessions and the beds on which they lay. The white buck from earlier collapsed next to me, nodding at me as we caught eyes. He rolled on to his back, his flank showing off the snowflake that revealed his talent. "Sweet Celestia, that was something else," he gasped, picking up a canteen near to the bed only to find it empty. Tossing it aside, he scrambled back to his hooves and pulled on a green shirt with the Equestrian flag displayed on the sleeve, "You're Bolt, right?" I nodded, pulling my own shirt on and grabbing for the accompanying hat, "Yeah, but call me Rivet. Yourself?" "Snowfall, my brother mentioned your father a few times in his letters. Said he was an inspiration to the entire camp." I snorted, turning away. It wasn't that I disliked my father, I was just sick of others comparing me to him. I had only just arrived and three separate ponies can compared us. I was my own pony, not his. I walked over to Xander, his horn sticking out of a convenient hole in his hat. "Seems you're famous around here," he commented, amused at the attention my presence had brought from the higher ups. "For all the wrong reasons though," I retorted, "How you keeping?" "I'm scared, tired and I feel like I'm about to throw lunch at the wall," he replied wearily, motioning for us to leave the bunker, "But it could be a lot worse." He gave a smile at the last point, and I smiled back. Doing this alone would've been an unimaginable torture, but we'd pull through together.