• Published 17th Apr 2014
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Journeyman's Journal - Journeyman



Scraped stories and deleted scenes from various pony-related works.

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Wasteland Wonderland - [GORE] [Rarity] [Lone Wanderer] [Fallout 3] [Crossover] [Implied Violence]

Author's Note:

Rarity does her best to survive the Capital Wasteland.


I love the idea of Fallout, despite only starting the games this very month. I like the themes of sacrifice, the introspective analysis of human nature, and this vast world it allows players to wander in. I only know of two other games that beat the Fallout-verse in terms of staging great character development.

After spending an ungodly amount of time in Fallout 3 (sorry, no Fallout 4 just yet), I played New Vegas today and the music just struck a chord in me. In just a few seconds the quiet ambiance of the wasteland constructed this scene in my head. I don't think I'll make a full story out of this little snippet, but I'd really like to. Ever since Fallout: Equestria, we don't see much of Fallout crossovers not involve Kkat's universe, and certainly not enough where ponies go to our world and not the other way around.

Here's to you, Bathesda. I love your games. Now update your fucking game engine.

The crackling fire gave off a somewhat foul odor, but those were a dime a dozen no matter where the Lone Wanderer ventured in the Capitol Wasteland. She inhaled it anyway, almost savoring the scent. Or at least trying to get used to it. It had been just over a week since she had left Vault 101, and the world was full of things she had never experienced. Her first day away from home, first scavenge of ammo from a locked safe, first gunfight with some assholes in a school who wanted to eat, rape, and kill her—she still wasn’t sure in what order, and her first kill.

She sighed. “Good times.”

At least she had stopped shaking whenever she dredged the memory up from the depths of her mind. The scent of crusted blood plastered on the walls, rotting flesh and piss-stained mattresses; it was enough to make her sick in a corner upon walking into that god-forsaken place.

Currently the sun was beginning to set on the town of... well, she wasn’t quite sure what it was called. In passing it was always referred to as Minefield, and the good four or five dozen landmines scattered about town were a pretty good indication as to why. Well, there was also that jackass with the rifle who took bullets like a champ. She was just paid to get a landmine for a job! That was it! The resulting gunfight left the old man face down with a family of forty fours in his chest, and her having to pry a rifle round out of her hip.

She took another deep breath again. She could still smell the rotten egg smell of gunpowder in the air and the burning oil from exploded cars. At least the town was safe from attacks, although it was a little too close to slaver territory for her comfort. One segment of her new shelter wall had been knocked out entirely, but given the rate of decay of the entire world, it was hard to tell what caused it. Still, she was secluded in what was left of the old badass’ sniper perch cooking up some radroach meat. It still tasted horrible, but it was better than starving to death and as much as she loved the taste, Nuka Cola didn’t quite satisfy.

The air was chilly, but not so bad that she needed anything more than her blue Vault Utility jumpsuit. It was a very snug thing and the belt contained all of her tools from her time in the Vault where she grew up. Being handy with tools was only second to an entertainer in Vault importance. Well, not if you counted the Overseer who ran the place.

“Big bombs, little bombs, an angry guy with a sledgehammer. Take your pick,” she whispered to herself. Looking out of the exposed wall gave her a rather picturesque view of the rest of the town despite the ramshackle appearance. The wasteland wasn’t kinder to the plants any more than the people who crawled out of the vaults after the world died. What shrubbery that survived was tough and dry. It needed to be in order to survive. At least something survived the world.

Bones were everywhere. On the streets, in the wild, on beds clutching a teddy bear for the last time...

“You’re crying again.”

She brought up her revolver before her mind even identified the voice. New instincts had been drilled into her mind over the last week just to keep her breathing to see the next day. The little form skittered around the corner of the stairs without a sound and if it wasn’t the swish of a tail and the distinctly feminine voice, she wouldn’t have known she was watched at all. If she had been any slower on the draw, she might have gotten a shot off.

“Jesus, Rares, stop that. One of these days I’m going to be quick enough on the draw,” she said in a rush. Adrenaline wanted to pump back into her veins but she was close to exhaustion after dealing with the sniper and maneuvering through an active minefield.

She could hear Rarity walking back up the steps. How could hooves be so quiet in the first place, being a chunk of hard keratin and all? That was a secret worth knowing. The pony peeked around the corner, but by then the wanderer had holstered her weapon.

“I apologize,” she said in accented but recognizable English. “You looked like you wanted a moment, so I didn’t wish to interrupt, but...”

“Fine, fine,” the wanderer waved off. The pony was always like that, despite worrying about others being about number four on the list of quickest ways to get a knife in the back. Rarity walked toward her and eyed the fire and the makeshift radroach shishkabob. What once was pure white fur was married to a dirt brown and grey under a ragtag mass of raider armor. There simply wasn’t enough water to wash up in the wasteland, and all potable water was strictly for drinking only. In many circles, water was as good as any currency. As the wanderer ran a hand through her own oily, ratty rat’s nest of raven-black hair, Rarity began unpacking her bags. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue. Good. Far too much had happened to worry about Rarity fussing over something.

“Not much in terms of scavengables. I found a few of those comics you like, some scrap, and what’s this?”

“That’s a vaccum cleaner.”

“...That is a very strange design.”

“Hey, I didn’t make it.” She flipped the kabob and the meat sizzled as the juice dripped over the open flame. Rarity wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight. Well, she wasn’t human after all, so different strokes and all that.

“I found a couple locked safes as well. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” The wanderer smiled. Breaking and entering had proven to be quite the guilty pleasure of hers.

“Ahem,” Rarity cleared her throat to get her attention. She was brandishing a pair of Nuka bottles.

“If you were human, Rares, I’d give you a kiss.”