Fallout Equestria : Northern Exposure

by Aponymetic

When shrooms are not enough.

Fleabag took several gulps from the plastic bottle, letting the hydrating water stave his thirst. The bottle had been deployed to his cell just a while ago, even thought his last meal had been around two hours ago… she wanted him to be on his top form for today’s assignment, most certainly.

“I hope you find everything up to your expectations…” The jailor sneered. “It’s not every day we have the opportunity to accommodate visitors, especially one as sophisticated as you…”

“Cut the bullshit, will you?” The diamond dog fumed as he tossed aside them empty plastic bottle. “I’m sick of you talking crap on my ears… just set me free.”

“Oh, but we have so much to learn from you, Fleabag…” She couldn’t just shut up, could she? “While on the wasteland your skills would be wasted on lost causes, here… you can actually contribute with our efforts, you are aiding us on getting a trot closer to saving the wasteland.”

“As if I even asked for that on the very fucking place…” Fleabag retorted. “Aid you on your moronic, past-lived delusions of renewal… you people should really let go the past.” And the diamond dog sighed. “If you really wish to progress, know that the wasteland isn’t supposed to be saved… it is what we make of it… the best would be if we adapted to it instead of forcibly fighting nature’s course…” Fleabag voiced, stopping for a moment before continuing. “I mean, that’s the kind of attitude that has spawned the wasteland on the very first place…”

“This is nothing alike the past…” The jailor answered. “We have newfound knowledge that will prevent us from treading the very same path to disaster… actually, if we garner enough knowledge, we CAN renew the wasteland to an even better shape than it was before the whole accident… we have the technology to, we have the duty to and we sure as heck have the birthright to.”

Fleabag merely nodded his head in disappointment. It was like talking to a door… a door that was strapped to his neck.

“But moving on…” She continued. “We have an awful lot to do today…”

“More senseless killing, I take it?” Fleabag voiced on an unamused tone. “Not like you actually have any other pretenses for keeping me here than setting me up against other beings for fun and profit…”

“I take it that the return to your usual annoyingly inquisitorial personality is a sign that your wounds healed nicely…” She spoke, not giving much attention to the diamond dog’s banter. “Which should be most fortunate for today’s assignment…”

“Give me names; I’ll give you corpses…” Fleabag grumbled.

“While I certainly appreciate your enthusiasm, you aren’t ready yet for that step up on difficulty.” The jailor voiced. “I though about something lighter, like fighting mutants again… bigger, more resilient mutants…”

“Whenever… you name’em: albino molerats, saberseals, timberwolves, if ya got any… anything, except…”

“You’ve being sent to kill a pack of radhogs.” She bluntly answered.

The diamond’s dog face contorted into a scowl of fury. “NO! Anything, except…” And he slouched to the ground, raising his eyes to the ceiling, his gaze burning straight through the walls. “You evil, soulless, irremediable bitch! I can forgive anything you might do to me, but forcing me to kill radhogs? Fuzzy-wuddly-cuddly radhogs who never did anything bad to anypony? What did they ever done to you?” And his resolve only got fiercer. “You’re a sick, deranged, demented bastard mare with no hope whatsoever of redemption… picking on poor little radhogs…”

“That was unexpected…” The jailor’s voice faltered. “What’s the deal with you and radhogs, anyway?”

“Not that’s any of your business, but I have dreams.” Fleabag harshly retorted. “Dreams of someday retiring of this whole madness, taming some radhogs and setting up a small little farm with them to hunt for truffles…”

“How touching…” She untruthfully remarked. “Too bad you’re being sent to kill a few of them, whether you like it or not…”

Fleabag gruffly eyeballed his collar. “Just send me in then, I’ll sit through the whole damn thing.” He whispered softly to the device. “It’s not like you can really force me to fight after all… just shock me all day long, and since I’m too “valuable” for your escalade through the steel rangers’ hierarchy to be preliminary disposed of, you’ll never kill me.”

“You forget that you’ll have to fend off against the radhogs or you’ll die all the same, Fleabag…” She cackled a bit. “You cannot fight it.”

“We’ll see about that… no radhog would attack a target as bulky as me. They may be mutants, but they aren’t stupid…” The diamond dog replied in turn. “And last time I checked, the steel rangers weren’t able to directly change animal behavior. By the way, how did you guys got your hooves on radhogs? They aren’t exactly common on this corner of the world.”

“We brought our own brood of them before setting shop on this region, along with anything we could gather from our tactical withdrawal from the Ponave, years ago…” She answered swiftly. “And about that little theory of yours… you /assume/ that we’re speaking about ordinary radhogs here, when in reality…” A hint of pride could be picked up from her voice. “You see, a few weeks ago we successfully stormed a raider lair… the whole incursion yielded a decent amount of loot, although it also yielded more chems than we could ever want… and since we don’t really make use of those…”

Fleabag almost choked. “You sick, perverted, depraved abomination of nature and all that is good! You drugged them, don’t you? Blasted drugged them radhogs and now you’re sending the poor piggies to their own death!”

“Pretty much… you’ll see how much more aggressive they get when fed on chems… we originally had a dozen of them, until they begun fighting over for the “baptized” food.” She chuckled. “The five remaining survivors will prove to be a fine match for your abilities.”

The diamond dog just gazed to the ground; wordlessly… he couldn’t find any other way out other than poaching the radhogs… Fleabag furrowed his brow in annoyance. “You will pay for this… I’ll put you down on my list.”

“Seeing how you are chained down, that’s quite a hollow promise, don’t you think?” She sneered back at him. “But thanks for your concern with me anyway… let’s get on with business.”

As she completed the sentence, the cell door opened yet again.

Trying to shrug away his discomfort, Fleabag made his way to the locker that contained his gear.

Inside, he picked up his bat, his old armor, and this time, his customized mooisin neighant rifle along with a box of bullets.

“This time, we desire to see to what extent you’re actually proficient on the use of firearms.” The jailor explained. “The bat is merely a precaution, in the event you’re stupid enough to squander all the bullets.”

“What if I refuse to comply?” He growled. “I’ve put on more than enough of my share of patience down here…”

“Death is also a viable option…” She answered. “Not like it would be much different on the surface… the northern wastes are hardly forgiving.”

“You could just have done some old-fashioned Q&A with me, but noooo… you had to pull out the whole evil-dungeon-mastermind-esque kind of act…” The diamond dog grumbled as he slowly walked his way along the corridors. “No consideration whatsoever…”

“Some of us do have accuracy quotas to fill, and the research value of knowing your favorite color, or what’s your preferred tune is almost nil… besides, I don’t trust you the slightest.” The jailor retorted.

“Good to know” He barked back at his captor. “So I’ll feel way less guilty when I jailbreak my own ass away from here.”

“Keep dreaming…” The jailor hissed.

Hardly amused with his whole predicament, Fleabag cocked his reinforced rifle ready. The weapon’s structure had been reinforced with an additional layer of iron… without it, the feeble weapon would certainly break apart or jam, due to the diamond dog’s sheer size and strength.

It was always like this… most stuff had been made by ponies, for ponies… of course, the hellhounds also crafted their own stuff, but crazed, tortured, trigger-happy mutants aren’t on the best of moods for trading. That’s why he traveled to the north, to get away from those who were nothing but a sad remainder of his race… just a shell of their former selves. Fleabag set out on a search for others, others like him… who retained their sanity.

The diamond dog sighed, stopping a minute to reflect, leaning over his weapon… so far, the whole thing had gone downhill quicker than an ADD-afflicted raider pumped up on dash and caffeine who just saw a fresh vault dweller down there… apart from not being able to find any canine around these parts, tainted or not, he had to deal with hypothermia, crushing climate conditions and the less-than-amicable local fauna… and now, to top everything, being captured by a bunch of wacko fetishists/ hoarders/ egocentric ponies who formed this region’s ranger of steel’ chapter… and they forced him into lab rat duty... at least, he had known the stragglers… yeah, that was the only…

A wave of shock washed through his body at that point, quickly spreading from the device at his neck, flushing away the diamond dog’s conscious thoughts and forcing him to focus on the pungent pain, his limbs being stiffened and locked in place as he lost balance, his rifle shattering onto the floor.

“You aren’t being paid to stick around doing nothing, get to hunting…” Never a break, she was always there to remind him of his current misfortune. “We have a strict timetable here, buddy…”

“I’m not being paid /at all/!” Fleabag grunted, shaking off the stiffness and regaining his feet. “And I have serious complaints about workplace relationship; the PR is going to have to hear me, that’s downstraight harassment…”

“I’ll take my chances with the lawsuits…” She retorted sharply, making the diamond dog growl in displeasure. “Those radhogs aren’t going to drop dead by themselves…”

Knowing better than to give that mare another excuse to taser him, Fleabag pulled his balls together again, picked up his rifle and set out onto the eerie corridors to hunt for the mutants.

He hated every inch of those decrepit, ill-preserved corridors… the artificial calefaction, the suffocating steam that impregnated the air… nothing alike the vast underground galleries of natural tunnels that he so badly missed… the damp air and wind currents that flowed underground…

That’s when he stumbled into one of the radhogs… the creature was fifty paces away from him.

The radhog was barely discernible from a bloated, four legged pile of muscles, only a dark snout and two tusks protuberating from the whole thing… what did they feed those poor radhogs?

Fleabag made a mental note to spend good fifteen minutes on examining anything that the steel rangers would give him to eat or drink. Then, he pondered on what to do… the beast was probably on massive pain from withdrawal, driving it mad… there was no way to restore the nature’s balance other than offing the poor radhog, yes… that was the ponytarian option… put the poor thing out of its misery.

So, he carefully adjusted the neighant to his shoulder, taking his time to aim at the monster…

Three shots were fired, only the last one hitting the intended target… the diamond dog cursed himself for not accounting the bullet drop. It was an amateurish mistake…

As the bullet struck onto the radhog’s massive coat of nervous tissue, the creature squealed on pain, turning to the diamond dog and dashing on a dangerous rage-fueled charge against him.

“Oh shit…” Fleabag muttered under his breath. He knew from experience that radhogs were deceptively swift. He would have enough time for only one attack or to set himself on a proper stand against the beast’s charge. Deciding against the later option, he tried his paw on the neighant for a second time…

The weapon’s kick set the diamond dog out of stance, the fired bullet ricocheting through the empty corridor, missing its mark.

The radhog headbutted his way through Fleabag’s legs, and although the canine tried to hold his ground as best as he could, he lost balance and fell.

Struggling with the physically augmented mutant, the diamond dog was finally able to intrude a closed paw between his body and the abomination’s snout, dazing the radhog.

It gave time for Fleabag to get a grip on his bat, the neighant being left out on the floor, dropped when the mutant charged his way through.

When the radhog tried to use its sharp claws for a new attack, the diamond dog was able to parry them by using his bat. That couldn’t be good for the weapon’s condition, but he had bigger worries at the moment.

As soon as could get an opening from the radhog, Fleabag directed his bat on a semicircular vertical strike, pounding its way upside the creature’s snout and face, knocking it more than a few strides away.

Eyeing the radhog quickly regain its ground, shake away the pain and prepare another charge, the diamond dog just grinned, preparing his own dash to counter the radhog’s one. “That’s all ya got, walking bacon?”

As on a cue, the mutant begun another drug-induced charge, while Fleabag also strode forward, the bat readied for a bloody sideswipe.

The two opponents clashed, the radhog getting the better of it and thrashing apart Fleabag’s left shoulder… the diamond dog shook frantically and used his bat to smack the mutant aside towards a nearby wall.

When the creature thudded against the obstacle, Fleabag attempted to suppress the pain in order to clear up the hostile first… he walked to the downed mutant and unleashed a flurry of strikes until the radhog stopped breathing.

Pain overtake the canine, he sat down to examine the wound: two large gaping injuries… those tusks were deadly, indeed… but hopefully, Fleabag was made of stern stuff as well. The diamond dog shredded a section of fabric from his armor in order to create a makeshift tourniquet… that should hold up for at least today…

“And that sets a new record.” The jailor made herself heard through the collar. “Breaking both shoulders on the same week… we ought to have a trophy or something for that kind of achievement.”

“Shut up!” Fleabag gruffly retorted, picking up his neighant and manually feeding four bullets into it. “If I die, so does your prospects of promotion.”

“They may, on immediate terms… however, I can always find out a more promising subject if you don’t fit the bill.” She voiced. “Don’t ever think for a moment you’re irreplaceable. While no steel ranger is authorized to outright dispose of uncooperative subjects, we can always leave you locked up and leave you not to run assignments… a while doing that and you’ll beg like a child for a chance to stretch those furry legs of yours.”

“And here I thought that you liked me…” Fleabag chuckled softly, the wisecracking diverting his focus from the pain. “That’s just I get for getting all dressed up, doing all of your whims and committing myself to make this relationship work out… doesn’t this collar mean anything to you?” After the last line, his laugh echoed boastfully through the corridor.

The jailor didn’t answer him. Something told the diamond dog that he, somehow, might have stepped on a few of her toes… not that she didn’t deserve it…

After two left turns and a right one, the canine spotted another radhog straight ahead. Positioning his neighant over the unharmed shoulder for maximum precision, he used the weapon’s scope to measure the distance and drop correctly this time, when he noticed that it was too far to guarantee a clear shot… he would need to lure the radhog closer.

Still holding his neighant with the right paw, the diamond dog used the left one’s fingers to whistle… a much louder whistle than those paltry ones that were within the digit-less beings’ capacity. Just one of the many advantages of possessing hands, he thought.

Predictably, the radhog begun its furious charge towards the source of the cacophony. Fleabag wouldn’t do the same mistake twice… adrenaline poured though his body as he waited until the mutant was within a reasonable range… that’s when he fired.

Two shots, one threading its way into the beast’s cheek and the other one finding its place between the radhog’s eyes.

Noticing on where he wounded the monster, Fleabag walked away from the radhog’s path, allowing the blinded mutant to charge past him on his reckless strike… which was eventually stopped by a wall.

The diamond dog simply approached the dazed mutant and made short work of it by smacking its skull with the bat.

“Hmm?” The jailor mumbled, seeming almost extraneous from Fleabag’s current progress. “Ah, you killed another one… keep it up.” She half-heartedly commented.

“What?” The diamond dog raised his eyebrows. “No insults? No witty remarks? No snide comments about my propensity of getting hurt? What have you done to my original jailor? Is she ever coming back? I sure hope that she doesn’t…”

“Are you ten or something?” She sighed. “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

“Granted that yours is much more satisfying than mine, has way more perks and flexible working hours…” Fleabag muttered under his breath.

“I’ve heard that. I suggest you keep those kind of comments to yourself, unless you happen to find shock therapy something enjoyable…”

Not having a proper comeback that wouldn’t lead to a one-sided electric beating, the canine merely reloaded two bullets into the neighant and begun pacing through the area again.

Fleabag noticed that the area was too big for that kind of exercise… the steel rangers could do all kind of combat simulations down there… thinking about it, the diamond dog thought they did that, indeed…seemed logical. He shouldn’t be surprised if he were to be put against one or more steel rangers on the future… when a loud crack followed by a series of shrieks and squeals could be heard through the area. Another radhog nearby…

Using his keen hearing senses to track down the sound to its source, Fleabag strode past a number of corridors and turns before finding the radhog…

It was already dead… something had caught it before. Deep wounds and claw scratches could be easily made out on the carcass. This radhog had fell victim to one of its own: a bigger, meaner and, quite likely, much more drugged radhog.

That wasn’t a good omen. Fleabag drew some breath and followed after a small trail of blood droplets… at least the victim didn’t go down without taking a piece of its attacker.

About ten minutes later, he stumbled into said monster: An extremely bulky creature with sickly, ragged brown fur, bloodshot eyes and a menacing complexion… this particular radhog easily towered over another one, a regular one… the bigger mutant thrashed around the smaller radhog’s corpse like it was a ragdoll.

“Heck, I’m impressed…” The jailor whispered, as if to not denounce Fleabag’s position “That alpha did as many kills as you and is on a better shape… I’m half-tempted to eschew you and take him as my subject instead…”

“He won’t look so smug when he’s dead…” Fleabag grimly voiced. “To think that cuddly little radhogs can turn out onto those… things. What did you feed them, anyway? Ghoul scabs?”

“Still wishing for a farm of those?”She chuckled. “All the bacon you can eat…”

The jailor’s words fell on deaf ears; Fleabag was too busy setting his rifle to pay attention to her retorts. He only had one chance to get it right instantly… The diamond dog shuddered at the thought of having to wrestle that giant radhog on close-quarters combat. Although he was bigger than the mutant, the radhog, thanks to his diet, surely was more resilient and well-built…

Two bullets drummed into the alpha radhog’s hide, small trickles of blood following afterwards… however… the creature didn’t even finch. Fleabag stared terrified at the that mounding pile of roids snarling angrily at him… his drug diet made the fucker almost impervious to pain!

The beast scratched the floor, piercing the diamond dog with its devilish eyes.

“Run…”

Fleabag was caught up on a strange, fear-induced kind of trance… he couldn’t stray his gaze from the alpha…

“RUN!” The jailor shouted, bringing the canine to its senses.He deftly scampered away, the mutant hot on his trail… he couldn’t overrun that trampling behemoth, so Fleabag came up with a plan: he decided to stall the radhog until it lost the diamond dog’s trail, then, shoot him from afar whenever he could get some distance… repeat ad infinitum until the monster is dead.

And so, Fleabag took multiple sharp turns, baffling the mutant and opening a gap… once the radhog’s cacophony died out, the canine took an alternative route to land behind the alpha, tracking him via its smell.

It seemed like the radhog was trying to the same, but without much success… a downer for being so pumped up on drugs. Fleabag chuckled at the beast worthlessly sniffing the floor, unable to focus on a single strain of smell… The canine set his neighant for a new attack…

Blang, another shot fired… this one scraping over the alpha’s back, nicking off the outer layer of his sickly fur… the beast once again lurched itself against Fleabag on a mad chase, and again, he was able to shake off the radhog from his tail.

I can’t keep going on like this forever, Fleabag thought. So far, the only thing he achieved was pissing off the radhog even further. He spent a few minutes considering his options, when a loud snarl brought his focus back: the prey became the hunter!

The canine had time to unload a couple of shots, staggering the radhog while it was halfway on its charge, giving Fleabag a window of opportunity for tactical retreat.

A few twists and turns later, his escape came to a halt: Fleabag bumped into a dead end. And to top that, the radhog was closing on his position, grunting wildly… the diamond dog cursed the resilient mutant, whoever came up with this facility’s layout, the steel rangers, his luck and a lot of other things… when said mutant entered Fleabag’s field of vision, the alpha’s eyes hungered… those devious eyes hungered for the diamond dog’s blood.

“So, this is it…” She voiced eerily “It was a pleasure working with you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Fleabag grumbled. “Besides, I’m not done yet…” He positioned his neighant. If he was going down, he’d go down fighting that fucking thing.

As the canine desperately squashed the trigger, only empty clicks came as response… he had forgotten to reload.

As out on sheer panic,he began to load bullets as fast as he could, while the radhog charged into a seemingly helpless prey. The diamond dog was able to chamber a bullet, then a second… but just as when he attempted to aim, the mutant trampled through him, its maws clashing upon fleabag’s feet.

Hearing his rifle and several bullets clattering into the floor, the downed canine reached out for his bat… he didn’t had much time until the radhog started making its way upwards.

Unleashing a swift kick with his unharmed feet, he was able to divert the radhog’s attention enough to pull out the wounded feet. The beast lunged for another bite, but Fleabag was ready now. He shoved the bat into the alpha’s maw.

The mutant’s strength crushed the weapon as if it was a toothpick, numerous barbs lodging themselves along the roof of his mouth, making the creature squeal madly with pain.

Fleabag blindly groped around the floor behind him in search for his rifle, while his eyes were busy keeping the mutant in check. When his paw finally met with the weapon, the canine pulled it and aimed the neighant point-blank directly at the alpha’s gaping maw…

One shot did the job, the bullet piercing straight from the wounded mouth’ roof to the radhog’s brain, offing the abomination almost instantly.

It was over now; Fleabag released a sigh of relief before kicking the heavy body off from him.

The canine was very debilitated… that radhog did gave him a run for his caps… and that was only the beginning… just the earlier assignments… one thing he knew for sure: he could gladly live his entire life without seeing another radhog again.

“Quite a hardly-attained victory… those seem to be your specialty.” The jailor sneered. “And I hope that you learned a thing or two about radhogs today… I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn vegetarian after this.”

“You wish…” He grunted. “At least, I was able to do it… I really understand the need for a couple of days’ rest now.”

“I told you were going to learn quickly enough. Anyways…” And she paused for a few minutes before continuing. “Good job… I never had doubts about you being capable to fulfill the job.”

“Yes… thanks, I guess…” The diamond dog smiled wearily, his body aching with searing pain. “Now, what about you flush me on some sleeping powder? My foot is hurting like a sonofabitch…”

“Good thing our doctors are used to treating injuries from foolhardy subjects… just hold on for a second there…”

And, for the first time, Fleabag actually welcomed the feeling brought by the sleeping powder, the pain quickly dimming into nothingness as his conscience went into submission. Just another day down there…

Comments

[Aponymetic]

So, hello... whoever might be reading this. Just a few things... this is my first fic, and I would really appreciate feedback! Please, do comment, be it a critic, a suggestion, a compliment or whenever... by knowing what's on your mind, I'll be able to tweak the story into a more pleasurable experience for you, reader. Yes, that's it... thanks for reading.

[Detective Chmilewsky]

1117318 I think the pacing needs a bit of work, and a bit more of a description of the character's setting, ie where he is.

Other than that though, looks like you got your grammar and paragraph structure down fine.