Fallout Equestria: Alphabet soup

by Doomande

1000 words: Synthetic by nyxOs

The humid air just outside of town rang with laughter, echoing through the ancient, mossy cyprus trees that towered above. Around a small fire pit sat three ponies, lounging in cheap plastic lawn chairs. Mosquitoes and moths flitted around the edge of the clearing, discouraged by the smoke but tempted by the laughing meals and the light respectively.

Empty beer bottles clinked as another was tossed into the pile, which was collecting next to a rusty old shotgun with the name “Bug Spray” crudely carved into the stock. Shrimp, a skinny unicorn clad in a worn, baggy hoodie, listened as his friend Citrus carried on.

“... And to this day, he’s convinced it was a radgoose!” He guffawed as his joke came to a close, drawing some chuckles from Brook. She sat adjacent to the others, telekinetically stirring the last few dregs of her bottle. Shrimp smiled and stared into the flames. The laughs faded slowly, giving way to amused, wistful sighing. Citrus and Brook exchanged a brief, knowing glance before addressing Shrimp.

“Hey, Shrimp, uh…” Citrus began, hesitantly. “What’s going on with you lately?”

Shrimp turned his attention from the fire up to the two friends across from him, raising an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Since you came back from Neigh Orleans, you haven’t, well…” Brook interjected, gesturing towards Shrimp. “You haven’t really been acting like yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re… you’re way too quiet. I haven’t heard a joke out of you since you’ve been back, y’know?”

Citrus added, “Mostly on account of you avoidin’ us most days.”

Taking these statements in, Shrimp pursed his lips and shook his head. “Oh, it’s just… y’know. I’ve been tired lately. Trip was exhausting, didn’t go as smoothly as I‘d hoped it would.”

“That’s a little vague,” Brook muttered.

Shrimp scowled. “Wait, are you actually accusing me of something?”

Citrus swallowed, his jaw taut. “Now, look. We’re not…”

“Shrimp would be straight with us, not this quiet, wishy-washy shit.”

Sitting up, Shrimp squinted and shot back, “The hell does that mean, Brook?”

“Hey!” Citrus shouted over the two. “Settle down. I-- we-- just wanted to ask you a couple questions, Shrimp. That’s it. No need to fight, let’s figure it out here.”

“Questions? Like what, ‘Are you a synth?’ ” Shrimp snorted derisively. When his friends reacted by sharing another sideways look, his voice rose. “Oh, come on!”

“Exactly that!” Brook shouted. “We ain’t forgot about what happened down in Hightide. Folks get snatched on trips and switched out with a robot, then they can murder and spy and whatever else…”

Shrimp cut her off with a laugh, one filled with a bitter note of incredulity. “You’re serious. Wow, Brook, you’ve actually gone that neurotic?”

Brook’s face flushed redder than it already was. Before she could start cursing Shrimp out, Citrus stood and stamped his hoof into the dirt, which could be felt acutely through the flimsy chairs the others still sat in. “I said enough!” He stared down Brook, then turned to Shrimp, eyes stern and piercing. “Where’d you meet us?”

Blinking, Shrimp began to object, “Citrus, you’ve-”

“Answer me.”

Shrimp stopped, then took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the damp swamp air. With another scoff, he replied, “Citrus, I met you the day we moved here. You helped us carry in the bedframe.”

Citrus nodded in response.

“Blue Brook, I met you while working at the bar. Asked me for a stout that day and every visit since. Introduced you two to each other when I learned fishing was everyone’s favorite hobby.

Her eyes still full of suspicion, Brook commented, “You know they can copy memories to the robots too.” While her attention hadn’t strayed from Shrimp, the sentence was clearly directed to Citrus, as if he was the only one listening.

Shrimp shrugged aggressively at her. “Then how on Equus do I prove I’m real?”

“That’s the point, you can’t! You’re a perfect copy!”

“Stop!” Citrus’s voice was straining. “Celestia, you two…” He snatched Brook’s bottle, dumping out the final drops and tossing it away. “You have had enough to drink. Shrimp, what happened on your trip?”

Shrimp sighed and leaned back, head in hoof. “No…”

“Yes. Clear this up so we can forget about tonight and go back to normal.”

The answer was not immediate, and only came after a long sigh and a muttered curse. “Okay, look. I… I got with another mare in Mirage, okay? I feel like shit about it, I shouldn’t have done it but I can’t take it back now. Satisfied?”

Citrus rubbed his forehead and groaned. “Shrimp… have you told Amber?”

With an exasperated shake of his head, Shrimp confessed, “No, and I don’t know how to break it to her, alright? ‘Hey, honey, I cheated on you while on my business trip! Whoops!’ ” The three were quiet for several breaths.

As a small bead of sweat rolled down the side of Citrus’s face, he nodded slowly. “Got it. Sorry for prodding, but we just needed to-”

“He knows we know,” Brook said evenly, and it was clear that she wasn’t referring to the infidelity.

As the others began to protest, Brook telekinetically grabbed the shotgun and leveled it at Shrimp’s chest. He stood very quickly, knocking over his chair.

“What the hell, Brook?” he shouted.

Similarly shocked, Citrus also reprimanded Brook. He reached for the shotgun, but as an earth pony had no recourse when it floated above his reach. Distracted by Citrus, Brook didn’t notice when Shrimp’s magic aura rotated the pistol inside his hoodie pocket to aim at her. When her peripheral caught sight of his horn’s glow, her eyes widened.

Before she could concentrate enough to pull the trigger of the shotgun far above her, a burst of light and sound erupted from the hoodie and struck Brook in the chest, toppling her backwards. Her magic cut out and the shotgun fell to the ground.

Citrus rushed to Brook, supporting her head as she gasped desperately. Breathless, he cried, “Shrimp, w-what have you done?!” The gunshot had drawn the town’s attention, and residents were exiting their homes to investigate.

Shrimp stumbled back and fled into the swamps, away from his former friends and away from the screams.

No creature ever saw him again.

Author's Note:

Theme: 1000 words.
By:

nyxOs