Fallout Equestria ABC: Dangers of the Wasteland

by Doomande

Y...

“You’ve gotta have more than this, friendo,” Pustule said, jabbing the barrel of a rusting pistol against the ghoul’s head. “This ain’t all you got!” It wasn’t his real name, but the disfiguring case of Hide Rot he’d contracted had chosen it for him. For a time he was a joke amongst his little raiding party, until he had chosen to embrace it. Pustule was so disfigured by the rot that he was often mistaken for a ghoul. Which might be why he hated them so much. Rough, pock-marked skin and a buboe the size of a pre-war bit pulsed on his cheek, leaking a clear fluid that matted his coat and caused his rusting armor to stick to him.

“P-please… I haven’t got anything…” the ghoul rasped, lowering her head and raising her hooves in a futile attempt to curl into herself and hide. Pustule sneered at her, trying to figure out how this… THING could’ve once been a mare. Leathery skin that was withered and rotted peeked through the remnants of a pale blue coat and thin wisps of golden mane still stubbornly clung to her remaining scalp and draped around her horn.

He clicked his tongue and the ghoul whimpered louder, her eyes shut tight. He liked that. He liked how powerful it made him feel. “Check again, boys! This bitch has gotta have somethin’ worthwhile!” Three other raiders rifled through the packs the ghoul’s brahmin had been carrying, before they’d put a bullet in each of its heads and dropped it to the dirt. Moldy clothes, various bits of junk, and at most, fifty caps. This had been a total bust. “I thought Sniveler said there was gonna be a shipment of goods leavin’ Three Peaks today!” he growled.

“He did! Lying sack of shit! I say we take our missin’ pay outta his hide!” one of his partners grunted as he tossed over a trunk, and rifled the contents a second time. Once again they came up with nothing, trotting up to Pustule with angry looks leveled at the ghoul.

“This ain’t your lucky day, rotter,” Pustule hissed and began to pull the trigger. The hammer raised, clicking audibly with the slow mechanical movement.

“No! No! Wait! I know… I know of a treasure! PLEASE! I KNOW OF A TREASURE!” she screamed.

That got their attention, the pistol removed itself from her head and Pustule stepped around in front of her. “Talk. Quick like,” he urged.

“There’s… there’s a cave not far from here… used to be a mine before the war,” she said, looking up slowly.

“We ain’t from these parts, rotter! Gonna hafta be more ‘sific,” Pustule said, pressing the pistol between her eyes.

“I-I… I can show you! I used to work there before the Last Day. It's not… not far,” she said, slowly getting to her hooves. She walked without urging, scrambling up the sloped hill next to the road and stopping when she worried she might leave her captors behind. She stepped around withered trees coated in putrid slime molds and thick, brain-like fungus. She stopped at an old wooden post, brushing her hoof through the carpet of muck until she found the rusted remnants of a sign. “C-c’mon. This way.” As they walked, a dirt road rose out of the detritus, leading in a winding path further up the hill. They followed it in silence, the ghoul occasionally promising that it was just ahead. When Pustule was just about ready to put far more bullets than was necessary into her ass and call it a day, she came to a stop. “Th-there it is! Just as I promised.”

Pustule stepped up beside her and looked incredulously at the cave. His gaze darted between it and the ghoul before he growled and drew his pistol again. “What sorta idiots hide a treasure in a cave!” he barked.

“The Ministry of Awesome!” she shouted, dropping to the dirt and shielding herself from the bullet that didn’t immediately rip through her face. “When she found herself still among the living she quickly follow-up. “It was a gold mine. Gold dried up quickly, so it was converted to a MoA storage depot!

“It does sound like somethin’ Dash woulda done from what I heard, boss,” one of his raiders muttered. The other two nodded so hard it seemed as though their heads might bobble off their bodies. With a resigned sigh, Pustule peered into the cave. It was nearly pitch black and a faint dripping noise echoed from deeper within.

“Scutt, you stick with the rotter. Fart, Belch, you’re with me,” Pustule ordered as he trotted into the cave, the glow from his horn casting a pal green light across the uneven stone walls as they disappeared into the earth. The minutes passed by in relative silence before the ghoul looked over at Scutt who stared absent-mindedly into the cave.

“So… Scutt?” she muttered. “You boys aren’t from around here?”

The raider, Scutt, looked about as smart as something you might step in. The mare had seen more teeth in Nightmare Night Jack-o-lanterns. More brains now that she thought of it, if the raider’s vacant stare and slight drooling was any indicator. After a long moment to process he shook his head. “Nah uh, we’re from da south.”

She nodded slowly. “I see,” she said. She waited a beat and then glanced over at him. “Ya ever hear of a Yao Guai?” she asked.

His vacant expression never changed. He shook his head. “Nah, wuzzat?” he asked, finally turning to face her. She smiled, and as if a gift from above a panicked scream echoed from the cave followed by a terrible roar. “Fart? Belch? Puss! I’m comin’ boss!” Scutt, to his credit, immediately charged in, heedless to the danger. A minuted passed, followed by more screams and the weak ‘pop pop’ of that rusty old pistol. She shrugged and her horn sparked into life and a translucent blue glow formed over the entrance. She waited, patiently, and before too long Pustule staggered back into view. His leather armor was rent, a trio of long deep fissures ran up his chest and face. She had to admit, the grievous wound had done wonders for his complexion, the buboe reduced to little more than a popped zit. Though at that size it more resembled a popped tire. He caught sight of the ghoul and quickened his pace, smashing face first into the magical barrier, leaving a smear of blood across it.

“Wush…” he slurred through a partial shredded face.

“Poor little raider,” the mare cooed. “Welcome to Three Peaks. I’m Cassidy. Its my job to make sure stupid raiders like yourselves don’t bother the townfolk.” His eyes widened and he reared back, beating his hooves against the magic. “Sniveler and I have a sweet little gig. We lure stupid raiders out here to their death. Collect a healthy bounty from the local sheriff, and keep the Yao Guai happy and away from town. The raider paused and looked over his shoulder, and then resumed beating on the magic with renewed vigor. He was shouting, but the magic field reduced it to a mild, unintelligible hum. “Say hi to fuzzy for me. Tell him I’ll be back soon with more treats,” she said, raising her hoof to wave. Pustule screamed against the magic as a massive shadow fell over him. He turned slowly, looking up into the radiation scarred hide of a true monster. With a bellowing growl, the Yao Guai descended upon him, taking him in its jaws and retreating back into its cave. Cassidy smiled and turned trotting back down the worn path as she began to sing. “If you go out in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. If you go out in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise. For every bear that ever there was, will gather there for certain, because today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.”

Y is for Yao Gaui, better be careful in the woods, guy!

Author's Note:

Made by WeaponPrime

Comments

[Salted Pingas]

Two minor grammar errors, but other than that a nice story. I suspected the mine was a trap, but hiding the rhyme till the end definitely worked in your favor.