Fallout Equestria: S.T.A.L.K.E.R

by aegishailstorm

Chapter 33: In Your Own Shoes

Chapter 33: In Your Own Shoes

Time for the Stalker to speak his mind...

It is nothing but terrifying. Over the past few months of my life, I have experienced more of it then most humans experience in a lifetime. I have seen things and done things that most civil governments would hide from the common people behind a vault of conspiracy, only after killing the creator and throwing away the key after the fact, just like the creator of the Kremlin back east. My name is Nikolai. I am a normal Ukrainian man who simply needed some extra money to pay for the rest of his college classes. But, for as terrifying as this all been, it is also astounding-and, even world shattering. Occasionally, it is has even been what some might call beautiful. For the better part of it, I have not been alone. My companions have been nothing short of Godsends. And I am certain that I could never ask for better ones, or even think of them if I tried. This... Wasteland that I now preside may be foreign to me. The culture, the environment, the creatures, the food, even the air smells different. But at the same time, I suppose that some things never change, regardless of where you are. Please forgive my poor lack of any better expression. But this is the most least, perfect place for me... That is a complicated thing to explain and elaborate on. So, I suppose I should show you, rather than tell you.

The Stalker ached all over. He saw only blackness. It took him a moment to realize that he was unconscious. Even in whatever fantasy this was, it still hurt. His mind swarmed with nightmares.

But, they weren't nightmares. They were memories. Vivid, lucid memories. His ears wined, and his hands shook uncontrollably. He touched his brow and found it laced with sweat. The blackness smelt of cold dirt and iron. It was like the Truck Graveyard all over again. He felt like his whole body had been slow boiled over a low flame in the worst possible way.

The scenes from Canterlot replayed over and over and over again in his mind. He couldn't get it out of his head. He hadn't had the time to stop and realize how many times over his life and the lives of his friends could have ended. The kilometer high fall while hanging onto that mutant dragon for dear life reminded him just how fast things could spiral out of his control. The alicorn reminded him of just how outmatched he was. It's booming voice still rang in it's mind, he could almost feel the energy of its presence as it floated across the ground towards him. He was just one man. One human man. And aside from two small equines, it was him against the entire Wasteland. It was almost too much for one Stalker to fathom. He simply couldn't. He was just one man after all. One Stalker. He wasn't a savior. He was a philanthropist who just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. He had a rock solid goal to build off of. He just didn't know his next step.

His eyes snapped open, flooding his vision with grey light. He was staring up and out of his little hovel at the moody grey skies above. In the meanwhile, his radio seemed to awaken along with him, adding a bit of strange ambience to the drizzly morning.

"Just take those 'ol records off the shelf..

I said I'll listen to 'em by myself..."

The Stalker pushed himself up and looked around the little rocky overhang he had made his temporary campsite. He felt something squirm beneath his left arm. It took him a moment to realize that the thing under his arm was a leathery bat wing. A batish wing which was attached to Willow Lamp. On the opposite side Flashpoint lay about half a meter from him. His right side up against the dirt right, mumbling to himself as he snored softly. The Stalker groped around for the ground and pushed himself until he was sitting upright. He looked down at his hands and rolled his thumbs over his palms- his gums and teeth felt loose, like they had sunken ever so slightly out of place.

"Ah... Oh..." Nikolai picked his mask up off of his chest and donned it, then picked up his rifle as his arms tinged with little bits of what felt like static electricity. He stumbled to his feet, and almost lost his footing in the process.

"What happened last night? Oh... Canterlot... Yes, yes. Oh... I need to use bathroom tree." The Stalker stumbled out into the open, found a tree about 10 meters away, did his business, threw up, laughed, and then stumbled back to the rocky overhang where he reclined back up against his rucksack for a good thirty seconds. Nikolai removed his mask again and pinched the temples of his forehead, then unscrewed the cap on one of his canteens and drank until the dryness in his throat was gone.

"Stew... Beef stew." He constructed a little fire with some torn newspapers and pre dried scorched tree twigs. As his radio switched songs, he removed a quarter liter can of Beef Stew from his rucksack, then set it atop a little makeshift spit. He drew a can of fruit salad and set it off to the side for later. He wasn't talking to himself, the only thing that he could anyone could take notice of would be the crackling of the low cooking fire. He noticed Willow's nose twitch, and, almost as if by clockwork, both of his friends eyes fluttered open, and he was greeted with the earnest and refreshed faces of two curious equines and hungry equines.

"I was always first one to pass out." Nikolai explained. "So... I figured I would take time to make you breakfast. We have preserved apricots, scrambled rehydrated eggs with bacon bits, black pepper, and rosemary- And... Beef Stew. Who wants what?"

"I'll take the Apricots, ugh." Willow wasn't disgusted, he was groggy-his ribs ached and his stomach rumbled and moaned for any bit of nutrition they could take in.

"If you guys want some, I will be happy to share!" Nikolai added. Willow reached into his saddle bags and opened up a little frigid pouch which held an IV bag filled with blood. He looked up from his hemoglobin filled breakfast, and got the feeling that Flashpoint wasn't keen on him finishing it while the zebra ate his own food in awkward, disconcert silence.

"I'll eat outside if it makes you more comfortable."

Nikolai smiled. "There is no reason to. By all means, please Willow. You can sit here and finish that IV bag of life juice. I do not care either way. Hey, Flashpoint!" His striped friend snapped his head over to look up at Nikolai.

"Yes?"

"Do you have anything against Willow consuming that in here?" He gestured to the intravenous bag with the whole of a gloved hand. "What kind of a question is that? Of course not. May I have some of that beef stew? It smells amazing." Nikolai nodded and lowered his eyebrows. "Of course." He Stalker sat up with a groan and unscrewed the cap of a bottle of Vodka.

"To Canterlot, fun... Maybe so, maybe no?" Flashpoint rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily." I think we're all glad it's gone. Still, I'm glad you found me Nikolai."

The zebra lowered his muzzle and began to dig into his meal. Nikolai let him have the stew in it's entirety, leaving him with just the scrambled eggs that tasted more like salty Styrofoam than anything else. Willow opened the little valve on the bag and sunk his fangs into it. The Stalker couldn't help but stare in intrigue just a little bit. He discovered that his attention always found itself returning to his rehydrated and reheated breakfast. He really was hungry. Running and gunning through a dark magic filled city tends to do that.

The Stalker crawled to the threshold of their hiding hole and looked out at the Wasteland, about 3 kilometers to their direct south, the ominous Pink Clouds and anomalous weather patterns that plagued the once grand city swirled about the mountainside all the same. Nikolai knew that it had been worth it, he gazed back and looked past his friends at the energy rifle that sat alongside the wall.

"So..." He inquired, turning around and taking a seat in the dirt by the waning fire. "What should we do next?" Willow brought his head away from his IV bag and locked eyes with Nikolai, licking his fangs clean of blood as he did. He whisked his tail around behind him and shifted his wings around.

"North." He said. "Let's go north. Anywhere but back the way we came, I know a few Thestral safe houses that string their way all the way to the coast and up to Manehatten."

"Manehatten?" The Stalker booted up his PDA and scrolled out and about on it's map until he found the coastline. Then, up the highway until he came to a peninsula that vaguely resembled New York City back on Earth.

"What is so special about that place? Is big city, yes. But I do not like big cities. War torn or otherwise. Make for poor scenery- Make for better sniper spot."

"Don't we know it." Flashpoint squirmed over towards Willow until they were sitting side by side. Nikolai reached for his magical energy rifle.

"I am tempted to get out my multitool and try to take this apart. I wonder what makes it tick and glow like that?" He mused quietly.

Willow heard the statement shot out his hooves in swift protest to Nikolai's idea. He himself wasn't familiar with magical energy weapons. But the little nocturnal creature was certain that it would end in disaster. A scorch mark or two if they were lucky, a nearly literal grenade to the face if they weren't. He knew Nikolai was fairly good at fiddling and disassembling things, but he wasn't quite ready to take his chances with one of the few skills he knew he couldn't trust his friend with.

"Oh no you don't! We are taking that thing to a-" The Stalker raised his hand and gestured back towards his friend.

"What? Licensed professional?" Nikolai said mockingly. "Maybe Enclave know how to fix this! Perhaps we will go back to Garden and see what they think of our new treasures? I agree, I do not want to break new toy now that I think about it, besides," He turned the weapon over and clasped it firmly, looking right down the odd canted iron sights which had been designed for equine use. Luckily, being a creature with opposable thumbs and 5 digits on each appendage meant that the odd sights or weapon construction was no big issue. Its power far outweighed the inconvenience that came with manipulating it.

"When do you guys want to set out?" Nikolai changed the subject. "I feel like steam boiled dirt!" He exclaimed grandly, "But... Is not best place to stay for too long, so... half hour and then we leave?"

"Half an hour?" Willow Lamp moaned. " My wings are sore... My everything is sore. Even after the healing potions." Flashpoint looked around awkwardly. "It could be worse. Have you ever been in so much pain you couldn't stand up?"

"Yes." His companions answered in unison.

"When Thestrals and bared from blood for long periods of time," Willow explained, "The results aren't exactly pretty." Nikolai smirked.

"When we Slavs are bared from Vodka, result is not pretty whatsoever." He laughed heartedly as he parroted Willow and stood up to lick his reusable plastic plate clean.

"Forty five minutes." He told them finally. "And then we pack up and go."

It was a long and slightly uncomfortable three quarters of an hour waiting for his friends to slowly and deliberately finish their meals. The Stalker knew for a fact that it was because they were burnt out. Their major goal had been accomplished. And now they were aimless. They didn't have any more drive. Nikolai had been the one at the wheel for the past two weeks. More than either of them had had for the better part of their lives. Survival had just been survival. Nikolai had given them a purpose.

"Have either of you two ever seen a working car?" Nikolai blurted suddenly, trying to excite the moment.

"I am certain we have had this conversation before Nikolai-" The Stalker raised his gloved right index finger and placed it up against Flashpoint's muzzle.

"I do not recall it then!" He snapped.

"Hey, next question- Flashpoint, when are you going to try on that PipBuck?" The Zebra blinked for a moment before he recalled what Willow was asking him about.

"Well we weren't able to try it on back there, maybe once we find a town or some settlement I'll strap it on and try to work it. But we can't risk it out here in the open." The trio passed by a row of destroyed vehicles which had driven off the road and crashed into a drainage ditch. Nikolai looked ahead at a rusting and half collapsed elevated road sign indicating various northbound locations. About a hundred meters past that, a partially melted and redish Steel Rangers helmet sat on a roadside guard rail. It's previous owner nowhere to be found. It's history, or reason for being there was lost to time. Wind blew little loose bits of gravel and dust across the highway. It reminded Nikolai a little bit of the 'Highway of Death' from earth. Nothing had been spared by fallout generated by the last day. Construction vehicles, busses, cars, trucks, and a dozen other types of vehicles lay strewn about in varying levels of disrepair and ancient neglect. Overhead, corroded metal pylons with dangling wires creaked and moaned in the dry winds.

"Alright." Flashpoint began. "Next question, how do we set up that PipBuck?"

"We shall attempt to figure that out when we get to someplace safe. Now is not the time or the place to figure that out. Is all quiet, Willow. Do you hear anything other than the wind?"

"Nope." The bat pony replied, tussling his wings and shifting his carbine around.

"Good. Now... Where is next town? That sign back there gave us two choices. Either we walk for 2 more hours to town of Cottage, or we turn northwest bound at next off ramp and walk for the next two days until we get to Cloudsdayle." Willow's face lit up, and not in a good way.

"No, no, no. We are not going to Cloudsdayle. That 'Cottage' town couldn't possibly be as bad as Cloudsdayle." Nikolai checked his PDA.

"There is an old coal fired power plant east of us. Do you want to check it out?" Willow shook his head. "Hypocampus Energy? That's fine by me. I've flown over it before, and it would a good start to making it to the coast."

"Have you ever seen the ocean?" Flashpoint asked his fanged friend. Willow nodded. "Yes, I have. And it's not like the pictures in magazines or books or old brochures. It's one giant stew of empty, poisoned death. But the good news it that most of the towns on the coast are unoccupied or sparsely populated by ponies who usually aren't too hostile. If we can make it to one of the highways that runs north-south or south-north, then it should lead us right to Manehatten without any issue."

"You know," Nikolai pointed out, "It would be a lot easier if we all had radios. Half of fighting isn't actually fighting after all, yes? We need bullets and what not, but- We also need food, water, comforts, our only supply chain is what we can carry and take with us." He reached into his rucksack while still in motion and pulled out his brand new night vision device. It was odd, to be sure. But it had worked. He couldn't even imagine how ridiculous he must have looked wearing it though. It probably made him look even more unsettling. He still wished he could have gotten himself his own set of power armor. But suits that were designed to fit a creature that never existed here might just be short supply. It was nothing more than a farcical dream that he liked to contemplate from time to time.

But then again, more than a few 'farcical' things had turned out to be true in the two weeks. Too many things for him to name off the top of his head. He compulsively went to check his watch as his boots splashed their way through a muddy puddle. The Stalker began to wonder what his friends were thinking.

He had tried to envision it once or twice before-trying to place himself into the hooves of some creature half his size was an interesting distraction that presented itself as being distinct among his handful of other options while either on the move though a location that didn't recall one's unwavering attention to their surroundings or some sort of conscious expertise at something.

"I would probably miss being tall and doing things with my hands." Nikolai though to himself, trying to convince himself that he was more confident on that particular topic than he really cared to admit.

Back to that other note... Nikolai did consider the consumption of alcoholic beverages to be a sort of conscious, beneficial action. But he wasn't drinking at this time. And the highway ahead of them did still necessitate a bit of attention, both to the actions of his friends and the terrain underfoot. The last thing he wanted was to stupidly trip and fall into some random puddle or to ignorantly bump up against some disgruntled automobile wreck in his passive mental meandering.

The Stalker scratched his chin and then stuffed his gloved hands into his pant pockets, running the five digits on his right hand past his leather Makarov holster as he did. He noticed that the little brass star on it's side had begun to corrode a bit. It wasn't essential to the rest of his tool belt-or even his sidearms holster for that matter. But he'd hate for something that he had kept ahold of since before he entered The Zone to fall apart now. He resolved that he would find a way to repair and restore it. He pulled his mask up and away from his mouth took a breath of the cool, dry, arid environment beyond its filter.

"Smells like rest of Wasteland." He lowered his mask again and chuckled.

Flashpoints wild striped mane drooped over the edges of his helmet and into his field of view and were met with a patient measure of displeasure from the zebra. His armor was scratched and dirty from his only week or so of owning it, but it was far from 'falling apart'. In fact, it was the nicest set of clothing he had ever worn in his life. The miasma of fleeing from captivity and being captive throughout his whole life meant that more often than not the only thing he had to wear was the dirty, grimy fur on his back. All the muck and strange smelling things that turned the alabaster white portions of his coat to a dull, speckled brown and orange.

He hadn't even begun to think about his fur until Nikolai had come along. Before that it was the same cycle of sleep, work, eat, repeat. And just from the way he looked two weeks prior, it was clear which two of those three things he had been deprived of.

"It could always be worse." Flashpoint reminded himself. And he was right, vanity meant nothing if you were trampled to death because you were to sick or malnourished to move.

"I could be in Fillydelphia working in one of those damned factories for Red Eye." His next thought was about all the other captives Nikolai had inevitably freed. In spite of his better nature telling him that they were probably dead or recaptured by now, he couldn't help but think of them.

They had all shunned him, for the most part. Zebra's weren't exactly a species the rest of the Wasteland looked down on with much kindness. Most didn't even want to sit by him on those rickety transportation wagons. He hadn't cared at the time of course, it had meant nothing to him. The only time it did was when those prejudices were taken out on him in the form of beatings or theft.

Flashpoint's dim and dark thoughts turned to a spontaneous wave of gratefulness for his own freedom. As he rewound his memory forward, he came to the time when he had shared a tent with that yellow unicorn, Amber Reins. "I wonder what she's been up to since I last saw her? No Flashpoint- She tried to kill you, what does it matter?" He shook his head in frustration. That slutty mare had tried to kill him over some caps. He probably could have beat her in a fight... had she not surprised him.

His mind skipped ahead to the humorous and ironic way that Nikolai had dealt with Amber, and his distraught sigh curled up into a small grin. It wasn't usual for him for his mood to be swinging every which way, but since he had met Nikolai again at the bottom of Mount Canterhorn, something had snapped in his mind. It felt exactly like this for the zebra when he had been saved from Maripony, or when he had made up with Willow in that market isle.

It was a feeling of rising euphoric good that he couldn't shake off. All the coldness of his life was being supplanted by these little bits of hope he was getting from these strangers he had just recently met. Flashpoint curled his tail up and down at caught a good look at his face from a little bit of reflective car door that hadn't rusted into near non existence.

His mind drifted to the curious thought of Nikolai's world. Earth. The Stalker had told him all kinds of things about it, but he had never tried to envision what it was like in depth. He didn't really know where to begin thinking of it. A thousand thoughts and opinions unfounded on any substantial evidence beyond the human right in front of him danced in his headspace. Some things sounded like they made sense to him, like functioning cars or running water or cities or even green grass, clean air, and blue skies with plenty of food for all. Other human traits, like drinking or a family he could conceive well enough. But there were still things that bothered him. Some question he knew he might never get a good answer to. His guess might as well be as good as Nikolai's.

Right after this, his mind dove into his experience with those zebra cultists. The events of Nikolai's duel still resounded sharply in his mind. The thought of the Stalker running around in what amounted to an almost psychopathic state- Laughing and screaming about those spears brought as much humor to Flashpoint as any of his other recent memories.

"We're getting closer. There are plenty of other little small towns around here. Do not worry. We should be able to stop and rest soon once we are in Cottage." Nikolai's barking voice knocked Flashpoint from his trance.

"Flashpoint! Keep up!" Nikolai called out again. He made a brisk gallop up to Willow's side and looked over at the Thestral, who returned his gaze with a patient slant from his slit, feline-like eyes. It was a strange thing, befriending a creature you thought was your mortal enemy. But Willow was nothing like the stories he had heard. If anything, he was more alike than he was dissimilar. Nikolai knew it, and the stout little zebra knew it as well.

"I wonder what he's thinking about?" Flashpoint's mind resumed it's state of contemplative vigilance.

Willow trotted along at the same pace as Flashpoint, noting the Zebra's uncanny smile. He didn't feel all that bad himself, Canterlot had done a number on his wings. Carrying and supporting Nikolai and Flashpoint meant that they were just about as sore as they could get. He had carried heavy loads before while flying-yes. But never a human being who weighed upwards of 250 pounds with all his equipment. He did not mind taking care of his good companions, but it sure did take a toll on him.

He ruffled his wings and curled his face up into an awkward smile. "Hey Flashpoint... What do you need?" The bat pony asked him.

"Oh, nothing at all." His companion replied. "We're getting close, aren't we?" Willow's ear twitched and swiveled towards Nikolai, who was now back in the throes of singing. 'The Man from Waco' in a strange string of broken English as he carried his rifle in one hand, it's sling dangling beside him and swaying lazily in the wind.

"I've used a PipBuck before." Willow told Flashpoint as his hoof kicked a little rock and his the folds of his cloak shifted with his movement. "I can hear things that neither of you can right now. There's... No need for me to have one. Plus, I'd rather not walk around with that giant piece of metal strapped to my forehoof." Flashpoint returned this statement with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, that is more for me then, I suppose." Flashpoint touted, trying to sound humble. Willow, was thinking about blood again. He was almost out of the supply he had taken with him from the safehouse. He truly hoped that this new town they were headed for would have a way for him to resupply. Otherwise he'd be in deep trouble. Like he had told his friends before, a Thestral deprived of nutrition wasn't a pretty sight, and one that he did not want his friends to see. He had resolved his quarrel with Flashpoint, and Nikolai seemed to think highly of him. But that might change if things got too extreme. He wasn't hungry as things stood. His 'meal' this morning had ensured that would be taken care of for the next few days... Hopefully.

"Hey, guys." Willow chirped. "Do you think we could go out of our way and grab some extra IV bags?" Nikolai stopped in midstep and turned around to stare at him.

"Why?" The Stalker asked hurriedly, "Are you running low? Are you out?"

"No-No!" He stammered, curling his ears back nervously. "It's... The flavor, you know? And it's gotten a bit stale... You know?" Nikolai chuckled, "Alright, is fine then? You no need help with this?" Willow returned the question with a fast nod. It went against his better judgement, but Nikolai and Flashpoint couldn't find out.

After some more time well spent walking and talking to one another, the two equines and one human left the freeway and headed northeastward towards Cottage, which was only about a hundred meters off the main road. Nikolai routed them rightwards, and they passed through a hole in a chain link fence and onto the parking lot beside a modestly sized caved in diner.

"Ah, this reminds me of another story..." Nikolai shook his right index finger as the trio squeezed into the structure though a very inconspicuous hole in the wall. The Stalker shinned his weapon light around some of the darker corners, minding the strange and occasionally obscene or morbid graffiti as he passed by it. He took a look out of a few of the windows, then led his friends to what must have been a staff break room at some point, he kicked in the door while standing off to the side, and made sure to stuff an old folding chair up against the hinge once they were inside the dusty room to ensure no...' undesirables' could simply walk in.

This method just didn't sit well with the Stalker, so what he did instead, and rather prudently at that, was to post Willow in the dinning area just beyond the kitchen and countertop, the bat pony calmly noted the unicorn skeleton with it's skull tipped into a dusty plate, and began his little run of impromptu guard work.

"I can't wait to find out how Flashpoint enjoys wearing that thing on his foreleg." He smiled to himself and laughed a bit as his hypersensitive ears picked up the noises of a mutated rat rummaging around some old dumpsters an odd 80 meters from the diner entrance, all the way across the street.

"Like you were saying?" Flashpoint inquired. Nikolai snapped his fingers as he withdrew the PipBuck from Flashpoint's saddlebags.

"Ah! Yes... One time I visit place just like this! Only not half collapsed and- You know, it was actually functioning. Nice place. But... Other topic! And... I forget that as well. Blyat!" The Stalker removed his mask and took a knee while he strapped the PipBuck onto his friend's leg with only minor difficulty, as he fastened it on, an uncomfortable memory swarmed in and out of his mind, a memory which almost made him shudder. But it held nothing of any sort of importance to the task at hoof, so he ignored it.

"Alright, now..." He opened the devices manual and then began to read, only to place it back in its respective pocket in Flashpoint's saddle bag half second later.

"What are you doing?" The zebra pied a glance back at Nikolai and raised an eyebrow out of curiosity.

"Oh... I no need manual. Please, I figure this out the same way I learn to drive car." He unscrewed the cap of one of his bottles of Vodka and took a brisk swig.

"With charm and... Lot of trial and error." He gestured at the device as reassuringly as he could. "Hey, I... I will tell you in advance Flashpoint. We may be here a while." He burped, then opened the nearby door and shouted;

"Hey Willow! Look around this place for something useful!" His order was replied to with a strange bat pony chirp of what must have been resigned glee in place of annoyance, along with the flapping of leathery wings. Nikolai turned back to the PipBuck.

"Alright, so what now?" Flashpoint mused, tapping it against the group experimentally. Nikolai began reaching for various knops and buttons, and turned and fidgeted with them until the screen began to glow a passive green color and several rows of code ran their way up and down the screen. Flashpoint arched an eyebrow at this, but Nikolai pumped his fist with enthusiasm.

"I did it! Huzah!" The zebra rolled his eyes as he removed his helmet and made for his pack. "Because you read the portion about it's activation Nikolai. I saw it to. Let us read the manual, it will save us a great deal of time." Nikolai shook his head, and returned to trying to fumble with the PipBuck, Flashpoint jerked his leg away from his gloved hand.

"Please read this Nikolai... I will admit that I can neither read or write as well as you can. But I can tell when something is certainly, doubtlessly wrong-" Nikolai took ahold of Flashpoint's leg again, the zebra let it go limp, allowing Nikolai full access to the PipBuck. He shown his rifle light over the stained pages of the PipBuck pamphlet, and after another minute of toying with the display, the screen flickered, and an highlighted green hued display of Flashpoint's body appeared on the screen, alongside a dozen other tabs and symbols that represented things Nikolai could only guess at.

"Back to manual, I guess." He grumbled in a dramatized tone.

About twenty minutes into his deep dive into the wonders of Equestrian Spell matrixes and The Stalker was about ready to add another hole to the wall of the diner through the 'judicial' use of his right fist.

"Health bars? Saddlebag organization? Well... I mean- It sounds like video game, but-" He cracked his knuckles and looked into his friends eyes. "It is cool. Provided it actually works. Provided- That technician back in Stable City-" Nikolai downed another swig of Vodka and licked the remainder from his lips. Flashpoint simply nodded, and stood up onto all fours.

All the while, Willow Lamp was busy fishing around the diner for anything of value. It just so happened that he managed to hear some unfamiliar voices while he was walking by the shattered front glass door.

Determined to provide himself with clarity, the Thestral swooped out of a broken window on the south side of the diner and perched himself on a parapet along the upper section of its collapsed roof. Directly across the street was a small strip mall, and beyond that the modestly sized suburb of bungalow style homes and decayed thatch-roof cottages which made up the town of Cottage, his eyes dilated on a a wagon which looked like it had been assembled from the lower half of an old automobile. Beyond, he spotted four creatures, three ponies and one griffon. They all wore rough and patchwork armor and carried rifles. A sudden crack rang out from their direction and he darted down and out of sight. His sensitive nose picked up the smell of gunfire and pony 'stench' coming from the northeast.

"Let's see who these folks are, shall we?" Willow murmured to himself as he spread his wings and arched the front half of his body in preparation for his upcoming dive while his deep green tail blew in the wind.

He glided back down to the ground and landed softly behind an old dumpster, a clear 150 meters from the strangers who were currently looking away from Willow's position. Raising his carbine to what constituted a 'low ready', he scanned the strip mall for any additional ponies. His right eye picked up some movement in the dark spaces of one of the destroyed shops near the cart. Willow shifted his head, and coolly identified the marking on the side of it with pinpoint accuracy.

A White Apple. It seemed that Nikolai's old quarrel had come back to bite his friends.

Comments

[harts fire]

i think part of what makes this story so good is that you are from the Ukraine and are using a translator.

this story is just amazing.

[Diamondized]

... you know, I'm actually kinda surprised that the PipBuck works to begin with. The whole chapter I was waiting for it to blow Flashpoint's leg off because he's a zebra- just seemed like the sort of thing that would happen in a Fallout game, you know? Like, oh, this thing was manufactured during a war and people were racist back then, so it was coded to explode if it recognized a user as a specific race.

Right?