Fallout: Equestria - Our Finest Hour

by MintCakeWrites

Chapter Three: And this is my Gun

“And the bullets chirped – In vain, vain, vain”

“Alright, pretreatment complete. We'll have to create replacement nerves for this section, and we'll attach the muscle to the hoof here.”

“Understood, I’ll have somepony prepare the cybernetic potions for administration.”

“Thank you. Could somepony fetch the enhancement for me? Last checks everypony.”

“Doctor...”

“What is it?”

“There's something wrong with the new enhancement.”

“Something wrong with it? How can there be anything wrong with it? It's passed all checks, even Miss Applejack herself oversaw production and the quality tests.”

“But it's missing pieces, and has pieces where there shouldn't be... AH! Fuck!”

“What's happen- oh sweet Celestia, how in the name of Luna did you do that?”

“I don't... fuck! I’m sorry, I’ll be back after I’ve tended to this.”

“What's wrong?”

“There's a knife in the damn hoof!”

“A knife? Oh my... there's more than a knife here... how strange...”

“Luna above, you're one unusual pony Mr Bolt. Given specialised cyber-enhancements, able to dream despite a massive hole in your head, and looked after by the Ministry Mares. I’m not sure if you're blessed or cursed.”

“This isn't Stable-tec is it?”

“No, private company. There a problem?”

“No... no, there isn't a problem. It's just weird, you know? This whole operation is fishy...”

“Don't you worry, if it's for the war then be thankful it's him and not us with this weird stuff.”

“I'm back, let's wrap this part up and get on to the tricky bit.”

“You OK to operate?”

“I'm getting paid half a million bits to stick some metal to a half dead pony, I’m not backing out after just that.”

“If you're sure... alright then, let's attach the hoof and then begin the skull treatment.”

“Yes doctor.”

---

After two weeks, our fitness and strength had improved considerably as had our idea of what it meant to be a team. Snowfall, Xander and I had become firm friends, working together whenever possible, conquering any challenge that was thrown at us. Sunset had begun to warm towards us as well, after Xander had stopped her from loosing an eye in a particularly nasty fight in the mess hall. At the end of the fortnight came a new challenge; firearms.

Some of the more testosterone heavy stallions seemed overjoyed at the prospect of being able to shoot things; why else would you join the army? Most of us wore a mask of calm and the strange readiness that had been drilled into us, the real pony inside shaking with fear or anticipation. I was in the latter group. I had never held, let alone fire such a mechanism, and my curious side was leaping with joy at the opportunity to take it apart and figure out how it worked.

We arrived at the firing range, marching in formation with pride at the chance. Hartpony was waiting for us at the armory, a strange expression on his face, “I must admit I never thought I’d see the day you whelps would wield a weapon. I’m proud of some of you, and as for the others...”

His gaze fell on Sunset, who's reputation had grown considerably over the weeks. She often lashed out at horny stallions, breaking the legs of one such buck who came a bit too close to her. We heard the screams half the camp away.

Her largest stir was her refusal to bunk with the other mares, stating that if she was to die alongside us then she will live alongside us too. While it made sense, it also spun the rumour that she was a 'freefilly' amongst the other soldiers posted at Camp Torntail, the chant “You're going to have fun when down goes the Sun” often heard when she walked in a room.

Despite all this desensitising work, her ferocity had grown; the 'other side' of her personality had appeared during some of the more extreme training. She nearly broke the neck of a soldier posing as a zebra warrior in close combat training, only to have our resident super-pony Xander step in and put her in a hoof-lock. She repressed the other side each time, but the memory of her eyes back in the cart had been burned into my brain making each outburst a reminder of the demon living within.

Hartpony took down a selection of weapons, listing each one as he went, “Standard issue pistol, .20 gauge shotgun, 5.57 mm standard issue assault rifle, mark III fragmentation grenades. Look closely fillies, you will be training with each and every one of these guns and you will find your VERY special somepony within them. Now pick up a pistol and move to a trainer, they'll teach you the basics for each weapon.”

“Sir, yes sir,” our unit replied, lining to pick up our instruments for the upcoming performance. I peeked at the numerous other weapons, my stomach fluttering at the sight of the complex tools of war hidden away, several requiring magical input to fire. Luna have mercy, this was too tempting. My stare was broken by a sudden question from Snowfall.

“What do you think that is?” his hoof gestured towards a four barreled gun attached to a saddle, large ammo packs taking the place of saddlebags.

“That would be a battle saddle soldier,” replied the armorer, floating the machine out for us to see. “One of the best bets against a large number of zebras. This baby is equipped with a lovely piece we've nicknamed “The Mower”, the fastest firing minigun we have access to, courtesy of Manehead Munitions.”

I smiled a little at the name, studying the side and finding my brother's embroidered face and name has been almost picked clean; the tan giving away his trademark. A strange feeling washed over me, a mix of pride, anger and loneliness filled me up. Clearly, my brother was still doing well, better than ever, but his profit and success came off the back of thousands of dead ponies. It made me realise not only how much I missed him, but how I’d probably never meet him again.

I shook myself, standing tall. I’d patch things up with him another day, but today I would continue my path as a soldier. I took the pistol from the armorer, and walked over to a free booth. The instructor taught me how to load and cock the weapon, how to fire it with my tongue and what to do if it jams. I picked it up quickly, able to load and empty a magazine in less than a minute while maintaining deadly accuracy.

“Well done,” commented the instructor, “but remember that when you use this in a combat situation, things will be different. You'll be under a lot of stress and there will be too much uncertainty for you to fire as precisely as that. Let's move on to the rifle.”

I took up the gun, the unfamiliar weight settling unusually in my mouth, and attempted to fire it. The weapon slipped from my jaw and fell to the ground with a clatter, making me jump a mile. I looked around, waiting for the berating of a lifetime only to hear laughter. My instructor floated the weapon back up and shook his head slightly.

“For a pony whose talent is understanding, you're pretty stupid. You're not a unicorn, so you're going to need a battle saddle to fire this one. The overall weight of the gun is too much for the head alone, so you need the saddle to spread the weight. You get it?”

By the time he had finished his lecture, I had taken the weapon back up and fired three bursts with ease. I set the weapon down and smirked, pleased with myself at the achievement, “I understand it fine sir. I just needed to get used to it first.”

My smirk grew at the look of surprise on the instructor's face, before it turned to a smile, “Well, that's something Bolt. I don't think there's a pony of your size that's ever managed to fire a rifle with just their mouth.”

An hour later and I had grown attached to the rifle, Hartpony's instructions came to mind; I had found my other half. I smiled a little at the thought and stepped back from the booth, joining the rest of the group. I had finally become a macabre musician, playing the symphony of death on my new instrument.

After days of intense gun training, we moved on from basic training to our own specialisations; Snowfall took on the role of fire support with heavy weapons, I trained to be part of the Royal Engineers while Sunset and Xander trained in the Special Operations squad.

It was the Engineers' job to get the machines that drove the Equestrian war effort forward operational as quickly as possible. I was the only pony from my unit that took the specialisation, and the only earth pony in the class. The entire division was a mix of unicorns, from the Army and Navy, and a few pegasi for the Air Force's vehicles.

Being the only earth pony, I was often the subject of torment; earning the nickname “Muddy” after an incident with the Brigadier General and a pegasi turbine. But it didn't bother me, I wasn't being compared to my father any more. I had become my own pony within the division he worked in, and that made me happier than all the praise from the whole of Equestria.

Two weeks in, and we had started a new course; sabotage. Our instructor had called us all into the barracks, standing next to a large object hidden by a brown sheet.

“As engineers, you are expected to get our machines up and running while the zebras' are left in the dirt. Gentlecolts, this is the toughest part of being in the Royal Engineers by far. The Spec Op bucks can go on about how impossible it is to sneak into enemy territory, the Rangers can talk all about how difficult it is to take down a platoon with only four ponies. None of them will have to repair and dismantle some of the most complicated machinery known to ponykind while being under a flood of bullets.”

He stepped back, and pulled the cover off an intricate piece of technology, covered in dials, levers, gauges and coming to a stop at the largest barrel I had ever laid eyes upon. The instructor smiled at the gazes of awe, intrigue and shock at the weapon, “If you think this is bad, it's only the baby. This here is a zebra mobile anti-air cannon, it fires magically altered shells at fifteen rounds per minute. This gun has been killing off more pegasi than we'd like it to, and today we're going to tear it apart to find its weakness.”

We all stepped up to the fearsome weapon, gemstones covering almost every spare inch. While the unicorns began to study the connections for a weak joint, I studied the gems closer. I raised a hoof, tapped a ruby the size of my eye, and felt a hum of magic within. I smiled to myself, and stepped back from the others, waiting for their ideas.

After twenty minutes, they backed off. One stood out and delivered their findings, “It's solid, but if somepony could place a stone or something within the turning mechanism it would be useless if surrounded.”

The unicorns stood proud, the instructor sighed and took a position next to the weapon, “Yes, that may be true, but we're going to need something a bit better than a rock. One of these bastards will be heavily defended and impossible to get to. By the time we'd have enough resources to overrun it, the stripes would have been driven back miles. And how exactly will you deploy such rocks? Ask the pegasi bomb runners to carry some gravel on the next mission?”

“I have a suggestion, sir,” I smiled inside, my time to shine. I stepped up to the machine, and dealt a single kick to the ruby I had studied before. An audible crackle sounded, and the air smelt burnt as each gem cracked in turn. I stepped back, and turned to the others, “the spells used to enchant it are connected in a spell web, like in zebra rifles. Each gem relies on the other to keep the enchantment in place. However, the zebra magic makes them unstable on a molecular level, meaning that a hard enough strike at a certain point can force the gem to crack. Destroying one of these gems upsets the spell web. I didn't think it would blow them all out, but it would certainly make the machine unstable, possibly exploding. Either way, this turret is now useless save for scrap.”

I smirked at the looks of surprise on the faces of my comrades, until the instructor rained on the parade, “Clever, but would it work on the full sized model? I’m sorry Bolt, but it's too tenuous a theory to apply in combat.”

I felt defeated at the remark, and slightly stunned. This was the first time since I was a foal that I was told that I was wrong. That I screwed up. I shook my head to clear the numbing fog of depression, returning to my fellow trainees.

The rest of the session was spent studying zebra weapons, and ways to prevent the stripes from using them at their full potential through basic techniques like jamming the barrel, but my mind was elsewhere. I knew my theory was right, and that it was plausible to implement the technique in combat too, but I wouldn't get the chance to prove it. Not for a long time at least.

During this time, my small circle of friends within the unit began to dwindle, yet Xander, Snowfall, Sunset and I would always have time for one another in the bunker, often swapping techniques and ideas from the different divisions. One night, Snowfall's recap brought unusual news.

“Say that again?” Sunset asked, making it sound more of an order than a request.

“They're letting me have The Mower,” he repeated, a little on edge from the interrogation. “The designer saw me use it in a test today and he said that I deserve it most. He said that nopony has ever taken to his designs so easily.”

My ears pricked up, moving towards Snowfall, “Is he still here?”

“Yeah, I think so, why?”

I bolted from the bunker, kicking the door open and running towards the armory. I hated what he did to our mother, I hated the self absorbed pony he had become, but he was still my brother. I missed him, maybe even loved him as family under all the anger. I pummeled on the door to the armory, the guard reluctantly opening it.

“Private Bolt? It's past curfew soldier, leave now and I’ll let you off this once.”

“I'm sorry sir, but it's my brother. I heard he was here,” I tried to catch my breath, winter had begun to set in and the cold air was only aggravating my lungs.

“Your brother? Oh, the weapons designer! I believe he's dining with Colonel Midnight this evening, I’ll call through and let them know you're on your way,” the guard turned around and went inside, flicking a radio on and speaking quickly into the static. He exited after a few moments, and nodded.

“Sir... I... thank you, but why did you allow me to do this? I’m breaking enough rules for this as it is,” I was truly dumbfounded by the stallion's actions, almost to the point of wanting to hit myself to check if I were dreaming.

“We've all been through a lot in this war, and I’ve heard about your family's history. So I’ll give you this one chance. Celestia knows what I would do to see my family one more time, so who am I to stop you? Besides, you should be thanking the Colonel; she's the one who's given you permission for this,” a warm smile came across the guard's face, before he turned back into the armoury and closed the door, bolts sliding across.

I galloped across the camp to reach the grand house that served as the higher ups' quarters, slowing to a trot as I passed the two frozen guards and into the comparative palace of my commanders. A dark blue mare stood inside the entrance.
Numerous medals decorated her suit and a single star adorning her flank, all held in perfect posture. Colonel Midnight. The leader of the Special Operations unit of the camp and the second scariest mare I have ever met, only just beating my mother.

“I apologise for the intrusion ma'am,” I stood to attention, my hoof raised in salute, “But I believe Sergeant Powder radioed in to inform you of my arrival and reasons.”

“At ease Private Bolt, and yes he did. How long has it been since you saw your brother last?” The Colonel's voice was like silk running along my ears, beautiful yet chilling at how deceptive it was. A complete opposite to the one that answered.

“Must be a year or two now, is that right Rivey? I bet you counted the days,” a tuxedo hid most of my brother's red coat, his blond hair falling over one eye as he descended the staircase leading to the other officer's quarters, “Oh don't look so sad, big brother Ratchet's here to make it all better.”

He walked towards me, putting a hoof around me. I flinched at the touch, and repressed the urge to vomit. Celestia banish him, I hated this pony. I soon forgot everything good I had thought about him, he was lower than dirt.

“So, why are you here? You know I don't have time for family, none of us do, big war going on and all,” his smug attitude rolled off him in waves, several of the guards began to look down on him as he strode by, “Oh how precious, a private in the army already! You're all grown up ikkle brother.”

“Stop it,” I growled, fighting back the bile.

“Stop what Rivey? I’m just so happy to see what a big responsible pony you've become!”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m still your ikkle brother? Why do you think I still care for you after all you've done?” my voice began to tremble, I felt my face grow hot as memories flew through me, images of my elder brother carrying me through the forests, teaching me the different kinds of tools, helping me build my first chariot. I bit my lip, my eyes welling, “What gives you the right to talk about family when you abandoned us?! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

Ratchet's expression changed from false joy to a sneer, looking down at me with malice and contempt, “I'm sorry, who am I? I’m Ratchet Bolt, the proud son of Wrench and Daisy Bolt and elder brother to a sniveling coward who thinks playing soldiers will make him as great as daddy was. No, the real question here is why on Equestria do you think I give a shit about what you think of me?”

Colonel Midnight looked apprehensive, her gaze flicking between me and my brother as the electricity in the air surged. Several passing soldiers stopped to watch the glare between myself and Ratchet, but nopony stepped in. I snorted, and tried to clear my head of anger only to have more memories of his betrayal appear in my mind. The empty seat at the funeral, the letter, the tears on my mother's face, all his fault.

“Oh come on now! You're crying? Oh sweet Celestia, you actually are! How pathetic, look at you! Half dead, stood in the doorway to a palace, dressed in rags, treating me like scum, where did you get such a warped view of the world Rivet?”

I dragged my hoof along the floor, Colonel Midnight walking towards me and smacking me over the head, “That's enough Private Bolt, if you're here to cause a fight I will have to ask you to leave. Regardless of your history, your brother is key to our victory in the next few missions so we can't afford to have him dead.”

“Yes ma'am, I apologise,” I stood up, still glowing with rage, giving the Colonel a salute before walking to the door.”

“Huh, look at yourself Rivet, you're a failure. You'll always be a sheep, just following orders and bowing your head. Grow a pair and then grow up. It's no wonder dad only wrote to me!” Ratchet called out, turning around. I stopped at the door, glaring at my brother and gritting my teeth before spitting out my last words.

“I will continue to play soldier Ratchet, and I’ll prove to you what real sacrifice is in this war. While you toyed away at your machines, lying in the arms of your big stallion, ponies are out there dying. Ponies like dad. So sit there in your office, safe from harm and away from everything. As long as you're there, ponies like dad and me and the mares and stallions in this camp will have to take the bullets and bombs for you. Dad was never meant to fight. He was called to arms because you were exempt. When you remember yourself, I’ll be ready to talk. Whether I can stomach it is a different matter, murderer.”

I left, running to my bunker in the cold night air. I wished that my final line had some punctuation to it, like a lightning strike or rain, but the real world doesn't work like in the books. Ponies get hurt by the smallest of upsets, and hold on to grudges for years.

A simple apology doesn't clear away the gloomy skies of a broken heart, and not everything can be solved by a party like Pinkie Pie seems to think. It doesn't matter how many deformed alligators and balloons she brings, the world can't keep smiling because one pony wants it to. Not even the thought of my dream mare could release the darkness that clouded my heart, the image of Fluttershy's smile crashing and falling against my indomitable anger.

My brother will always remain my brother. As much as I’d like to ignore it and run away, I can't change that simple fact. So I bit the bullet and pushed him out of my mind, it was a hurdle I would have to deal with later.

I burst back into the bunker, leaning on the door frame as the others looked at me with curiosity. Xander was the first to speak.

“What happened? Where did you run off to?”

Sitting on the bed, I shook my mane and recounted the events that led to my outburst, my mind numbing the shock of my actions as I spoke, desensitising myself from the pain. A hoof landed on my shoulder, and Sunset looked over at me, “Grow a pair, my brother's a prick too. My entire family are pricks, every last one of them.”

I forced a smile, nodding at the words before grinning, “You're a bit of prick yourself, you know.”

A hoof to the stomach shut me up quickly, followed by Sunset's odd laugh; half way between a snort and a giggle. Xander began to laugh as well, Snowfall soon joining in. Unable to stop myself from grinning I laughed along with them, harder than I had in weeks. Tears of joy ran down my face, and for the first time since my father died I felt like I was at home. In a iron shack in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by heavily armed killers all baying for zebra blood, I felt at home.

---

My brother left camp not long after, and then came our final day. Lined up before our commanding officers, we all stood to attention as our pins were added to our shirts and a salute to our efforts; we had all graduated. Sunset and Xander gained a promotion, becoming 1st class Privates due to their outstanding performance in a mock infiltration mission. Snowfall also received a distinction for his quick thinking when a flame-thrower malfunctioned in a practice run.

I, on the other hand, was given something more. As we were packing our meager possessions away, a knock on the door to the bunker sounded. Looking up, a familiar grey pony stood in the doorway, his red beret still disguising his horn and ear, “Ah, Private Bolt. I was looking for you. Congratulations.”

“Thank you sir,” I gave Officer Slate a salute before standing to attention, he chuckled at the gesture and waved me off.

“No need to be formal right now Rivet, I’m here on more personal business than anything else.”

Slate reached into a saddlebag and passed me a small case, the word Bolt ornately inscribed on the front. He stood and watched as I opened it. Inside was an decorated knife, the edges sharper than diamond and the handle adorned with hundreds of engraved cogs and spokes. The blade was light, as if I were holding a hoofful of leaves. I studied the base of the handle, the initials W.B etched in. I looked up to the officer, my eyes full of questions.

“This knife... it belonged to my father, right?”-the stallion nodded-“ how did he get it? And for that matter, how did you get hold of it? Shouldn't my mother or I have it?”

“Your mother did receive it, and she sent it back after I wrote to her about your training. The knife was the only possession your father had on him when he was killed. Your mother figured that you'll need it more than she will, and so sent it to you.”

“But how did my father get it? He couldn't have made it, his expertise is chariots, and my uncle didn't make blades.”

Slate shrugged, replying “I'm not sure on that, all I know is that he started carrying it not long after he graduated and never stopped. Oh, that's a point, your mother asked me to do another thing.”

Slate's horn glowed underneath his beret, floating out an identical one and resting it on my head. The hat felt heavy, as if a new responsibility had been added to my growing collection.

“I pulled some strings, and have a placement for you in 1st Platoon. You'd be fighting with your old stallion's comrades, but we'd all be honoured to have you fight alongside us. As Rivet Bolt, not as Wrench's son.”

Slate stood at the door, smiling a little at how my face lit up. I stood to attention, bringing my hoof up in salute, “Private Rivet Bolt, ready for orders, sir!”

Comments

[MarcDaJohnson]

YES UPDATE. I'm gonna read this when I get to school.

[MarcDaJohnson]

Fine chapter sir, well done
When i read the title all i could think was 'This is my rifle, there are many like it but this one is mine!'
Good show

[MintCakeWrites]

497943 Yeah, watched it for inspiration on the training scenes Glad you liked it!

[MarcDaJohnson]

497986
My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
This is how i fell about my SK I'm glad you haven't fallen prey to the FoE side story slump. A lot of side stories get you hooked in a couple chapters then no update for months or never at all. its a damn shame. Any ways keep on keepin on and remember... have fun with it!

[NeverKnown]

Great chapter mate looking forward to more