Fallout Equestria: Viva Las Pegasus -- Tales of New Pegasus

by hailetheking

Chapter Three: Ghosts of the Past

Fallout Equestria: Viva Las Pegasus -- Tails of New Pegasus
Chapter One: Another Day in New Pegasus

---

I’ve walked these roads a long time ago… I promised I’d never have to set foot here when I grew up.

The Ancient Quarter. A nickname the guards have for the part of Freedom Field that has been abandoned since the unification of New Pegasus. This place had memories. Bad memories.

I can hear the whispers of the past as the cold air breeze swept through.

Electricity from here has been cut off. Nobody goes here so the City Council decided redirect the power to somewhere more useful. The councilor I work for was the one who suggested building a school for the young colts and fillies of New Pegasus. I swore to Celestia, I used to see that little fillie walking around, and I never imaged myself working for her almost a decade later.

Hell, the only reason I’m working for her is because of Sundown…

That kid. I always had a soft spot for him. I found Sundown when he was just a colt. He seemed so fragile. So innocent. So weak and helpless.

Like me.

I stopped and looked at the building that lay in front of me. The flashlight attached on back didn’t do well to brighten it up, but I can see it was just how we left it when I had to join the Stringers.

“I promise I can get you the caps by tonight, Furham!” an older looking pony flashed before my eyes. “Please, just… just give me time.” I remember the sadness of his deep black eyes. The dark-brown mare looked simply pitiful on his knees. “Please.”

“Fine Bastion. I’ll give you until tomorrow. I promise that if you don’t, you’ll regret it.” the other pony, Furham left. I can’t seem to remember his face oddly.

-----

Another memory came from his mind. The older pony was back, walking around another pony tied to an old bed frame. The pony had one foot tied to each post, and the bed was upright, so the pony was in a standing position.

“Tell me what the code to your lock is.” The older pony was stern, his cutie mark of a hammer and bandage became more threatening in the dark. “We’re not afraid to hurt you.”

“No! Oh Celestia, why did you have to rob ME out of all the other traders!?!?” The tortured pony wailed. He suffered cuts and bruises everywhere. I don’t think he could even see, given that both his eyes were bulging like a bitch. “You already took everything from me! I know you won’t let me leave alive, so what do I have to gain from this!?”

“A slow death.” I could almost swear the older mare was smiling a bit.

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Son, do it.” He turned to this young, chubby colt, hiding in the shadows, looking even more afraid than the trader on the bed.

Oh, the first time. It always leaves a scar.
“But Poppa...” I muttered.

All of a sudden, I felt him charge towards me then next his hooves crushing my face together.

“Don’t you talk back you little shit!”

SMACK!

“BOULDER WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT TALKING BACK!? Now…”

I had no choice. I wonder how the trader felt, watching a fat gray colt, much too young for even a cutie mark, attach a couple of jumper cable to his balls.

“No, kid. Please.”

I looked into his teary eyes. Then I looked back and saw my father glare at me. I knew it had to be done.

“I’m sorry.” Those the last words my first victim heard. I turned up the battery dial to max, then I simply watched him scream. Scream for mercy. Scream for Celestia. Finally, scream for the sweet embrace of death. Thirty minutes later, bubbles came from his muzzle and his head slacked backwards. It was done.

-----

Back to reality. What’s past is past. I didn’t come here for that part of my past. I came here to think, and to honor those who have passed.

But I can’t really think about her without thinking of my childhood. My father…

My father. He had turned me into a monster.

My father was a hard, cold, stallion. Growing up with him was hard, especially since my mother had died. He was a bitter pony, a heavy drinker, and a compulsive gambler. His gambling was the main source of my childhood problems. So many times, I would see random ponies walk into our wrecked up apartment, then leave taking some of our tools or a bag full of caps. Shortly after, I’d see my father, intoxicated as fuck running outside yelling.

“GO AHEAD!” he yelled. It was a cold night, and everypony around had been asleep.

“Take our shit! I’LL SKIN ALL OF YOU ALIVE!!!”

All around I saw ponies sticking their heads out the ruined buildings or looking to see what was going on from their scrap metal shanties.

“Poppa, please, go inside. People are trying to sleep.” I begged him, not wanting him to annoy the gangs anymore.

SMACK!

“YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE SHIT!” His hoof connected with my face at a dangerously high speed. “DON’T. YOU. FUCKING. TELL ME HOW TO LIVE MY LIFE.” With every word, the strong scent of alcohol invaded my nostrils. The stench couldn’t distract me from the blood I felt in my mouth though.

“You’re going with me to work tomorrow.” he continued.

-----

As I grew older, he decided to bring me to his ‘work’ everyday. There’s no gentle way to put this. My father was a hitpony. But a special kind of hitpony. He wouldn’t kill his targets. He would get them to confess something. Be it the location of a chest, lock code for a safe, or even a fake confession, he could get it out of that person. How? Torture, of course. I hated it when Poppa took me to help him. I knew it was wrong. But deep down, I enjoyed it. I loved the rush. I loved the resistance. I loved to see the desperation in their eyes as they knew what was inevitable.

You see, I wasn’t always this sadistic, loose-cannon lunatic people know and love. No, as a colt, I was a shy, timid, fat foal. Before my dad brought me to ‘assist’ in his work, nobody was afraid of me. They used to call me ‘Big-Ass Boulder.’ Don’t get me wrong, these weren’t friends that called me that. Just some other colts and fillies around the area. I didn’t have friends. All I had was my sister.

Before I had my sister, I only had my mom. She was the only pony I could turn to until I was 6. I walk into the building I was outside and see so many memories at once. I remember that that corner over there was were we used to lay our mattresses. I can still feel the warmth of my mother’s hug as a curled up beside her, sobbing from the bruises and cuts my father had given me. I look at my body, and I faintly smile as I remember all the times she had gingerly ripped parts of her dresses or rags we found on the street to bandage cuts I got. Those times she gave me an extra serving of beans from her plate when she heard my stomach grumble even after dinner. Whenever I was feeling sad, she’d tell me to focus on the constant ticking of our clock.

“Why mom?” I asked. It felt stupid the first time she told me about it.

She smiled at me and explained “My son, you see, you know that the wasteland is full of chaos, right?”

“Yeah momma, I know. Why?”

“Well, the ticking of the clock is always the same. Always the same intervals. It’s uniform. Like a heartbeat. Let me remind you about how even after all the chaos, after all the pain and suffering, your heart is still beating. And that means you are strong.”

I put my hoof on my chest, then I felt the throbbing. It felt in sync with the ticking of the clock.

“You’re right, mom.” I grinned widely at her. “I am still alive.”

She hugged me close, then she whispered to me “It’s because you’re the strongest and bravest colt in this city. And nothing will ever change that, my love.” Then she put my hoof to her chest.

“And remember, as long as my heart beats too, I’ll always be here for you.”

I then put both of my front legs around her and held her tight.

“I love you momma.”

Oh how I wished those days would last forever.

But fate is a cruel mistress…

I remember the day my mom was rushed to the Followers. She was very happy weeks before this moment. “You won’t be alone anymore.” She’d smile at me while telling me this. I always wanted a brother. I didn’t have much friends, so I was really excited to have another kid to relate to. However, I didn’t like the screaming. Even from outside the fort, I could hear the agony of my mother. It went on for hours and hours. When I stopped, I excitedly ran inside. I still remember as I ran in, everyone avoided eye-contact. I saw old Mixer holding a little white fille, cute as ever.

“Meet your sister.” Anybody could have figured out that he was simply forcing himself to sound cheerful, but I didn’t mind it at the time. I wasn’t alone anymore. I looked at her beautiful gray eyes. They looked so innocent, so full of hope, so brilliant. I looked at her lovingly and I introduced myself.

“Hi, I’m Brawny Boulder. I’m your brother.” I reach out my hoof towards her then ever so tenderly, she grabs it. That was one of the few times I felt real happiness in my life. It was a roller coaster of emotions that day, as the next hour was probably the worst news of my life. I looked up and I asked “Has Momma seen ‘er yet?” Mixer didn’t meet my gaze. He simply knelt down, ears dropping to his neck, and said “Son, take a seat.”

It can’t be true.

It isn’t true.

I run past Mixer, and into the tent where I saw them take Momma.

I didn’t see a warm smile waiting for me, ready to introduce me to my new sister.

I saw nothing but two ponies putting a sheet over a lifeless body.

For the next few minutes, I sat alone in that tent, with only Mixer and my new sister. The silence was almost deafening, except for the constant, rhythmic ticking.

“WHAT IN CELESTIA’S NAME IS THAT SOUND!?” I yelled. I hated being interrupted from my grieving, and that constant ticking really pissed me off.

“It’s called a metronome lad. Your mother personally requested that it be put there. She says she likes the constant ticking.” Mixer replied absent-mindedly. “It calm her down. She said it reminded her of her-”

“Heartbeat.” I finished.

I sat in silence, remembering her saying that as long as her heart beat, she would always be there for me. And now, nobody was left.

I felt like crying, but instead, I stood up and looked at the little filly that was with Mixer.

“She doesn’t have a name you know.” Mixer told me. “I reckon you should give ‘er the name mate.”

I looked at her, put my hoof to her chest, then felt that tiny little heart beat.

“Metronome,” I whispered.

Author's Note:

Really long chapter. I tend to write these background chapters with passion. Wait till Sundown's background chapter. It's going to be long and emotional. Next chapter however, is more about Metronome and Boulder and less about the rest of Boulder's past. I'll also bring to light some of Boulder's involvement in the past events that greatly affected New Pegasus.

Comments

[S3rb4n]

I swear, I am suffering a total feel overflow. I somehow saw it coming, but yet... It's really touching. Carry on, you're doing fine.

[hailetheking]

3790993 O MAI, thank you sempai!!!
Kyaaaa, sempai noticed me again!!!
static2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120728030319/mlp/images/4/46/Sweetie_Belle_pleased_with_herself_S2E23.png
(Man you have to fucking love Sweetie Belle.)

I wanted the feels to go round and round for this thing. I had an outline for a backstory of this guy, but it turned out to be different. Sundown's is also gonna be a nice one in my opinion. I hope I can make it as good as it sounds in my head though.

[S3rb4n]

3791048 It's great. I saw the twist coming, but it shook me anyway. Small little advice, though:

- Have your work checked by an editor to avoid typos and layout stuff. The mistakes can ruin a great story by scaring people off.
- Don't analyze each chapter in the Author's notes. Keep your plans to yourself and let the readers be surprised with each new chapter. Use the notes only if strictly necessary to clarify something.

[Runcible Spoon]

...
Hnngh.
...

[deepsleep64]

I don't get it. The cover art depicts Boulder as a colt, but he is older than Metronome, who clearly was an adult in VLP. Im confused...