Fallout Equestria: Revamp

by midworld1999

Chapter 3: Shackle

Sector: Shackle
98 Years 4 Months 19 Days PSR

Wick and I went unfed for three days, and were given only enough water to stave death by dehydration. By the time we reached Shackle, we barely had enough of energy to stagger to our feet, let alone fight our captors.

We smelled like hellhound puke. Wick had shat and pissed in the far corner of crate (no easy feat, considering our bindings), and I followed her lead, at least for as long as I had shit to shit. The stench of it (coupled with that of our sweat and blood) had somehow fused itself into our fur.

The unending hours spent in our mobile prison consisted of mostly talking. I told Wick about how my family was ambushed at the Sanderhoof Facility. Discussing it felt wrong at first, like I was sharing something deeply sacred with a stranger. But through our conversations, Wick and I progressed from strangers to friends in record time. Talking with her went from awkward to easy quickly.

I told her of how I'd simply gone rigid after the death of my parents, unable to flee, then cried for hours in sorrow. "That's known as irina, or healing madness. It was you coming to terms with the loss. Irina is an important stage of grief, but it seems yours came at an inopportune time. Be wary that it doesn't control you like that again."

In turn, Wick told me about her life before capture. She'd been raised by a griffon named Bert, who'd taught her how to survive and shoot. A couple of weeks ago, they'd been sleeping outside. That was when the attack came. Bert hadn't survived.

She spoke constantly of Bert's twin revolvers, one of the chambers of which was her cutie mark, a metallic circle with five dark holes revolving about a ratchet. "Those limp-dicked ka-mai killed him in his sleep and took his guns. That's un-fucking-forgivable. They'd best hope I don't get my claws on those carvers, or they'll be burning in Na'ar before long." Wick's vocabulary often eluded me.

As our journey neared its end, our conversation dwindled. Neither of us had energy to waste on idle chatter, so the last few hours in the crate were silent.

All at once, cart stopped, wrenching me out of my doze. I listened to what was going on outside. Voices, more than just the three that captured us, were talking. They sounded jovial and friendly. I was frightened. Whoever was friends with beasts like that was no one I wanted to meet.

There was a click as the crate was unlocked. The door opened slowly. The slavers had learned from the last time to be careful around Wick. I looked over at Wick, and it was clear from her expression that she thinking the same thing. The shared thought brought satisfied grins to our lips.

After spending half a week in near total darkness, the light was blinding. Before my eyes could adjust, I was gripped in an aura and floated outside the wagon. I felt my bindings torn from my hooves and my goggles snapped off of my neck, instantly replaced by something hot, metallic, and heavy securing itself around my throat with a sharp beep, leaving my air passage partially constricted. I moment later I heard a second beep, and I knew Wick had a similar choker around her neck.

I blinked rapidly as my vision became accustomed to the new brightness. Large, vague silhouettes appeared, soon followed by details. Several detritus shacks came into view. A series of two story towers, connected by wire mesh fencing, which had barbed wire circling the top. Ponies moving around on errands through the encampment. I raised my sight to sky, and saw from the sun that it was the late afternoon.

A sudden smack to the face put a stop to my examination. Something sharp dug into my forehead. I fell over, still weak from hunger.

"Up now!" I struggled to my feet. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" I turned to face the voice, and found myself confronted by the beaked face of a huge griffon in menacing armor, standing in front of half a dozen foreboding guards. The griffon glared down at me with hateful eyes, like I was something that had just crawled out of a rotting corpse.

"My name is Hammer Swing, and this" –he gestured to the settlement behind him– "is Shackle. You'll do as any of my guards say the first time they ask. If they tell you to dig, you dig. If they tell you scavenge, you scavenge." His gaze settled on Wick. "If they want to fuck you, you can bet your sorry life you're gonna let them fuck you. You will not eat, drink, shit, piss, or sleep without a guard saying you can first. Failure to follow orders, do something without permission, or try to escape, that collar around your neck will explode."

Fucking shit! I glanced over to Wick to gauge her reaction. The second I turned my head, Hammer's swift claw met my muzzle, leaving another jagged rip in my face.

"Look at me when I speak! Next time it's your head!" he barked. He turned to one of his guards. "Jackknife, take these two to the kennels. They'll start work tomorrow."

Wick and I followed the grim green unicorn to the gate of a smaller fenced in area, one of five or so I saw scattered around the camp. There were three hovels dug into the ground with a trough beside them, and a firepit in the center. About a score of undernourished foals also wearing collars, their ages ranging from toddler to teenager, were lazing around the hovels, sleeping, having soft conversations, or just staring into space.

The gate opened and we were thrown unceremoniously inside. I rolled in a somersault before coming to an awkward stop. I looked back to watch the guard leave. Once he was out of sight, I turned to Wick.

Over the last three days I'd learned her personality. She wasn't going to just stay here. She was going to fight back. Sure enough, she was already raising her wings.

"No!"

I used my remaining energy to tackle her to the ground before she could take off.

"Hey, what's the big idea?"

"Are you stupid? Didn't you hear them? They'll kill you if you try anything!"

"But–"

"Come on, this isn't worth your life. We can wait for rescue or something! Besides, you can barely stand. How're you gonna take on an entire camp of slavers!?"

Wick glared at me through slitted eyes. I glared right back. I wasn't going to let her throw her life away.

After a minute she gave up. "Fine, I'll cooperate for now," she grumbled.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Now, let's find som–"

"psst!" someone whispered.

We glanced around, looking for the source of the voice. Wick saw him first, and signaled me to look. A small, pale yellow pegasus colt was beckoning us from behind one of the hovels. Curious, we walked over to meet him.

"You two are new here, right?"

"Duh," Wick responded.

"Then I'm gonna need your special talents, please."

I eyed him quizzically. "What?"

The colt allowed himself an apologetic smile. "For Eniac. She needs to know all the variables."

"Who're you?" asked Wick aggressively. "And why can't this Eniac talk to us herself?"

"She likes to be alone," said the colt, a sad look replacing his smile. "She thinks better that way. Keeps to herself most of time. Oh, and I'm Swiss." I noticed his cutie mark was a triangular slice of holed cheese.

"What was that about variables?" I inquired.

Swiss ignored the question. "All I know is she needs to know your talents, and it's important. Can't you tell me?"

I glanced at Wick. "Why not? Nothing to lose."

Wick sighed. "Yeah, sure. I'm good with guns, but revolvers especially."

"I got a knack for fixing things. I can do some electronics and guns, but could probably do more stuff if I had time tinker with it."

"Okay, thanks! I'll see you later." Swiss turned to scurry into one of the hovels, but stopped halfway. "Uh, you can get food and water from the boxes and barrels by the third shack. Just don't take too much; everyone's gotta eat. Bathroom's in the corner. You can sleep where ever you want! G'night!" With that, he disappeared into the burrow.

Wick spared me a sideways glance. "Well that was weird."

"Yeah. But at least we know where the food is. Let's go get some, I feel like I'm about to pass out." That wasn't an exaggeration.

We found the crates and opened them without trouble. Unfortunately, the radhog inside was covered in about five hundred flies. Still, it was better than nothing, and we could cook them. The water in the barrels seemed clean enough, and since we didn't have any means to carry it, we drank straight from the drum.

We trotted to the firepit with the meat. I hastily fashioned some bits of wire lying around into a makeshift rotisserie spit over the pit, then jabbed the slabs of radhog onto it.

Meanwhile, Wick set to lighting the fire. To my surprise, she was clacking a pair of stones together over kindling, minuscule sparks springing from the friction and eventually lighting the tinder. As she did this, she spoke: "Spark-a-dark, where's my sire? Will I lay me? Will I stay me? Bless this camp with fire." After a few minutes of effort, the meat was roasting over a healthy fire.

As the smell of sizzling hog entranced us, I voiced a question. "Why didn't you light it with fire breath? Can't dragons do that?"

Wick snorted. "If I could do that, do you think I'd be here now?"

"Oh, right. Duh."

"Yeah, haven't figured that trick out yet. For all I know, whatever species I classify as can't breathe fire. Either that or I'm too young. If I can, I wish it'd happen already."

I laughed. "You and me both! That would be pretty badass."

She cracked a smile. "Yeah, I guess so– oh, I think the food's ready!"

She reached over the swelling flames with her flame-retardant claws and brought out the still-sizzling meat. After three days without food, anything to eat made my mouth water.

We wasted no time digging in. Wick was done with her piece in about four bites, bones and all. I had to take my time, carefully balancing the meat on my hooves (I couldn't use magic) and strategically gnawing around the hard bits of bone.

By the time we were done, night had fallen completely. Although bulbs shown from the shacks inhabited by the slavers, our primary light source was our fire. Other foals had begun cooking their meals on it, and were chatting in groups. Wick and I had no desire to join in; we only wanted to rest.

"Let's find a spot to crash. I'm beat," said Wick. I agreed, so we explored the camp for good spots to sleep. There were sacks of moldy hay inside the hovels, but it was too cramped in there. We settled on dragging two of these "mattresses" outside to sleep on.

As we were laying down, I heard a familiar noise.

"psst!"

I turned over to face Swiss, crouching behind a broken crate.

"What is it?" I groaned. "I was about to sleep."

"Eniac wants to see you."

I moaned. "Now?"

He nodded. Wick and I sighed and got up.

"No, you stay," said Swiss, indicating Wick. "She just wants to see him."

Wick looked like she wanted to protest, but I put a hoof to her shoulder to stop her. "It's fine. I'll be back in a few."

"Better be," she huffed, returning to her cot.

I followed Swiss into the second of the hovels. It was hard to see, but by no means impossible. We dodged between cots, carrying the sleeping forms of foals, to a raggedy curtain, sectioning off a small section of the hut.

"She's in there. Head on in," said Swiss, motioning for me to move forward. "I stay out here."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But I trust Eniac's reasons. She has a good reason for everything she does."

I shrugged and walked through the divider. The "room" I came into was much barer than the rest of shack. As opposed to all the floor space being donated to "beds", there was one solitary cot, upon which sat the seemingly unimposing figure of a griffoness. She couldn't have been over five years old.

Her face was expressionless, eyes trained on me as I entered, like I was something under a microscope. Something to be studied, then found a proper use for.

I stood before her several moments. The moment should have felt awkward, and it sort of did, but another feeling overpowered it. Dread. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in the presence of something vast and and beyond me. Something that could peel apart every layer of my being guiltlessly, without blinking. Feeling these things in regard to a toddler only added to the creepiness.

Ugh, must still be tired from the trip here.

I cleared my throat nervously. "Err, you must be Eniac. You... wanted to see me?"

Eniac smiled. It was painfully forced, a gesture performed only because it was expected of her. Seeing it, I wanted to grimace. "Yes, I am Eniac. I'm afraid Swiss neglected your name. You are..?" Her voice was toneless, without inflection or emphasis.

"Revamp," I answered.

"Revamp. Appropriate name for someone of your talents." Her faux smile vanished. I almost sighed in relief. "But enough with introductions. To business. I've summoned you here for a reason, so allow me to clue you in to your role.

"You are to reveal your talent to the guards of this outfit as subtly as possible without them overlooking it. Fix something small. Maybe an old toy. However you do it, prove to them you can fix complex machines without letting them know you're showing them you can do it. Subtly is key.

"Once you've done this, they will recruit you as a repairpony. Take this position without seeming too eager. Upon reaching this step, approach me for further instructions."

I frowned. As much as this griffon creeped me out, I wasn't going to let someone else boss me around without any discernible reason, much less some little pipsqueak half my size.

"Why do you want me to do this? What makes you think I'll do what you say?"

"I'm afraid I cannot yet reveal details. All I say for now is that doing this will be greatly to your benefit. I can, however, provide an alternate incentive, if you require a more tangible reason to follow my orders."

Eniac got up from her cot and moved it aside, exposing a dug out compartment beneath her bed. She reached into the hole and plucked out a cylindrical metal device with a green screen. My eyes bulged.

"Considering your talents, I suppose you know what this is, and what a benefit it could be to you."

"Yes. I know."

"Do what I say, it's yours. I don't care whether you believe me or not, but I speak truth when I say it will be the least of your rewards if you follow my instructions."

I considered these terms. "Okay, just a few more questions. How long is this going to take?"

"Hard to say: too many variables to account for. Could take months. Could take longer." At least she wasn't sugar coating it.

"Are you the leader of us slaves?"

This time the smile she cracked seemed genuine, amused. It was almost pretty, a stark contrast to her false one earlier. "I work in our best interests, but to do that, I need to order some people around. So I can see why you'd get that idea. If anyone's our leader, it's Swiss. He's more charismatic, empathetic. Not to mention a great judge of character, knows who to trust and such."

With that, I settled on my decision. "Alright, I'll do as you say. But once this step is over, I want to know what's going on."

"If everything goes as planned, you learning what we're doing in the next step is inevitable." She gestured to the exit. "You may leave. I advise you fulfill your end of the deal as quickly as possible. The faster we move things along, the less risk for everyone."

I walked out, unsure how I felt. Eniac had asked me for nothing dangerous, and had even offered a serious, tangible benefit. At the same time, I had no idea why I was really doing any of this.

I needed some clarification. I decided to talk to Swiss tomorrow, learn more about Eniac. He seemed to know her well enough, so he was a natural starting point.

With these worries running through my head, coupled with the impending horrors of whatever lay in store tomorrow, sleep was difficult to find.

---

Sector: Shackle
98 Years 4 Months 20 Days PSR

We were woken early in the morning, before the sun rose. I hadn't gotten much sleep and was still considerably weakened from the three day fast, so I was sluggish. The guards wasted no time in changing that. Using barbed whips. I had no doubt there would be scars.

The slaves from all the kennels shuffled into a yard in the center of the settlement. By my estimation, there were around two hundred of us, all filthy, emaciated, scarred, and, on the surface, broken.

Once in the courtyard we were organized into smaller groups. I was in a group with ten other slaves, one of which was Swiss. Wick was in another group, all of them fillies.

My group was given empty saddlebags and led outside of the camp. The landscape surrounding our prison was mountainous and rocky, with only the occasional shrub or patch of devil weed poking out from the stony earth. We were brought into a nearby valley. Inside the small dale was what used to be dump. Now it looked more like a scavenging ground, a labyrinth of tunnels crisscrossing through the rusting metal.

The guard in charge of us was one I recognized, Deadbolt. "Alright kiddies, you know what to do. Get on with it."

The foals scattered into the maze. I was about to follow their lead when I was yanked back by my tail.

"Don't get so excited there, Fire-ass. Let me explain. You go on in, find anything that looks sell-able. Go in deep to scavenge anything new, since we've been working this scrapyard awhile. Get back here every two hours or so I know you aren't escaping." Deadbolt grinned savagely. "If I think you're trying anything, your gonna get a real bad migraine." His grin grew wider, uglier. "Just like daddy."

I was torn between biting his lip off and bursting into tears. The wound, although not infected, was still fresh, and painfully so. I think I actually hissed, like somepony'd just touched new bruise. It took all of my willpower to keep my composure.

Deadbolt smile faltered at my lack of reaction. "Well, what're you waiting for? Get in there!" He bit me by the scruff of my neck and hurled me in.

By Celestia's grace, I didn't land on anything sharp, although a fresh wave of agony tore through my lashings from earlier, tiny pebbles wedging themselves into the deep cuts. New blood wet my fur. It took a few minutes to get myself under control, to stop trembling from a potent combination of pain, grief, and rage. I got up, brushed off the dirt, and trekked forward.

I kept careful track of all landmarks, knowing it would be easy to get lost in here. Getting lost would mean being late to see Deadbolt, something I did not want to be.

As I walked, I picked up any baubles still intact and stashed them in my saddlebag. The farther I went into the maze, the more stuff I found. A salvageable keyboard. A snowglobe advertising "Detrot Zoo!", that by some miracle hadn't shattered. A grimy mannequine head. A scarf whose color had faded to a light shade of blegh. Screws, nuts, bolts, and washers.

I hoped I'd bump into somebody soon. It was tedious to do this individually. Someone must've been reading my mind, because it wasn't long before I ran into Nebula. I found the dark blue earth pony scrounging through an ancient dufflebag.

I trotted up to her casually, unsure how to start the conversation. I'd never thrived at small talk.

"Um, hey, what's your name?" I ventured.

"Huh, wha–" the filly started. "Oh, hi. I'm–" she yawned "–I'm Nebula. I've never seen you before today. New?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"Mmhmm." She'd already gone back to rummaging through the bag.

I glanced at her cutie mark, a bright, colorful splotch accented with stars. "Uh, I guess you got a thing for astronomy."

"Used to, until about a year ago," she said, not looking up.

I waited for her to elaborate. She didn't. "Uh, why not anymore?"

She shot me an annoyed look, and I saw her eyes had heavy bags under them. I hadn't noticed before because of her fur pigment. "Don't even bother asking, you wouldn't believe me."

This only piqued my interest further. "You can't just leave me hanging like that! Tell me!"

"You'll think I'm crazy." Her voice wavered. "Just leave me alone." She was on the verge of tears! How did I upset her this badly in less than a minute?

I didn't want to aggravate her anymore. I silently trotted away.

"They scream," came a muffled voice.

I spun to face her. "What?"

She was sitting on the ground, her face buried in her hooves. "Every night. The stars, moon, comets, planets, even the empty space, the space between spaces. Scream. Loud. No one else can hear them but me. I can barely sleep."

I blinked in surprise. Then I turned forward and kept walking. She'd been right. I had nothing else to say.

Behind me, I heard a faint, defeated whisper. "Don't blame you..."

My throat tightened, but I kept walking.

---

I didn't come across anyone else in the labyrinthine junkyard. Every two hours I'd head back to Deadbolt and drop my load onto a sledge, which had been hauled over while I was scavenging inside the maze. Deadbolt continued to taunt me, and to his chagrin, I held my tongue.

We finished our foraging in the late afternoon, probably around four o'clock. Once all of us had returned from the dump, we were harnessed to sledge, where we began the tedious task of dragging the fruits of our day's labor back to the camp. I tried not to notice Nebula glancing my direction every few seconds.

The sledging, exhausting and intense as it was, did provide me an opportunity to speak with Swiss.

"Hey, kid! Swiss," I whispered.

Swiss grunted. "How old're you?"

I shook my head, confused by the question. "Uh... nine."

"Then don't call me kid. I'm eleven."

"Woah! Why're you so small?"

Swiss shifted uncomfortably. "Lack of proper nourishment."

"Oh, sorry. I guess now it kind of makes sense that you're the leader, though, with you being that old."

"Leader? What're you talking about?"

"Last night, Eniac said–"

Swiss snickered. "Eniac's modest. I'm more of courier of words than anything. Tell the others what Eniac suggests, and they usually do it."

I took advantage of the turn in conversation. "Actually, I wanted to talk about Eniac."

"Why do you wanna know about her?"

"She's ordering me around. I wanna know what her reasons are."

"Like I told you yesterday, I have no idea. But she knows exactly what she's doing."

"How can you know that?"

Swiss took a moment to gather his thoughts. "You felt her presence when you talked with her, didn't you?"

Startled, I nodded. "I just thought I was still dizzy from hunger."

"I feel it a lot stronger, and I've been around her awhile, so I know her well. Her brain... it's like a fucking super-computer. She can figure things out quickly with little information, and is almost always right. But the thing is, it comes at a price. She's socially and emotionally distant. It can come across as her having a cold personality, but trust me, she's got feelings. Whatever it is she has you doing (don't tell me what, she has people keeps secrets for reasons), it's for the good every slave in this camp."

We pulled silently for a few minutes before I answered. "Thanks for telling me. And I'm Revamp, by the way."

"I know. Eniac already told me." We were finally nearing the shantytown we now called home. "Once we're released for the evening, you're gonna want to find your friend..."

"Wick."

"Yes, her. Find her quickly. She'll need you."

I was about to ask him what he was talking about when we were unlatched from the sledge and roughly herded into our respective kennels.

I was worn out from the day's work, but the urgency in Swiss's tone spurred me to find Wick as soon as possible. The enclosure wasn't very big, so it didn't take me long to spot her.

I actually glanced over her at first, but when my eyes did catch her, my mind didn't immediately register what I was seeing. Wick, curled up into a silent, fetal ball, just staring into space. She looked disturbingly similar to the slaves we'd seen yesterday. Hopeless, unthinking, not wanting to think.

I sprinted to her side, stopping just short of her. I lowered my head to look at her face. I was right in front of her face, and she wasn't looking at me, but past me, at something an inconceivable distance away. Dry riverbeds from tears polluted her cheeks.

I looked her over. Bruises. Lacerations. Fur matted with cracking black blood clots. I got to her flank, and noticed four distinct incisions on either side of her hind legs. My gaze went lower, and–

No. No they fucking didn't. I started to put the puzzle pieces together, forming a picture that grew more horrific the closer I got to the solution.

Wick's group had been all girls. Swiss's warning. "She'll need you." Wick's current state: the distant look, the gashes, the tearing of her–

Stop! You'll make yourself sick! She needs you! You can't help her if you're puking!

It took all of my effort to steady myself. I was breathing like I'd just run a marathon, my mouth gaping stupidly. I was still having trouble accepting it. I–

I needed to fucking suck it up. Wick needed me, and whether I was okay didn't matter for the moment.

I sat down beside her, put a hoof on her delicately, like she might break if I pressed too hard. The instant I made contact, her head flinched upward to face me. The faraway look was gone, replaced with an expression I didn't expect. I'd anticipated a look of grief, defeat, and loss. What I saw was a mixture of shame and murderous intent.

She wasn't broken. Injured, both in pride and body, but still working. Nonetheless, what had been done was unforgivable. Someone was going to pay.

I finally found my voice. The horror of earlier was replaced with boiling rage, which came out in a low growl I hadn't have thought myself capable of.

"Who?"

Her eyes never lowered. She met my gaze with steady, stubborn eyes. Eyes filled with invincible malice for those who had hurt her.

"Hammer Swing."

My eyes narrowed.

"Let me help you to bed."

"Kay."

I let her lean on me, acting as a living crutch. She swung one of her reptilian forelegs over my back. Her scales scraped at my lashings, and she was heavier than me, but I persevered. Once I had her on the mattress, I laid down, panting, staring at the early evening sky.

"Thanks."

I reclined in silence before replying. "I'm not gonna waste your time with 'I'm sorrys'. They aren't worth shit for something like this. But I'm gonna make you a promise."

"What?"

"We're gonna kill that bastard."

I could almost hear the heavens' shriek.

Comments

[Deathpony]

They raped a filly, I hope they get what's coming to them . Hopefully they find a way to get those collars off so they can free the rest of the slaves.