Clipped Wings

by Desrium

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Time keeps on moving, one must keep moving with it, lest they are left lost in the far gone past.

Two weeks passed so quickly.

Once again he was alone, but he was not on some mad pursuit to be a hero. Rather, his cause was much more realistic and manageable: explore the Wasteland. Get to know it and the ponies that survived the apocalypse better. Help where he could, not because he would be respected and revered for his deeds, but because it was the decent thing to do. The pledge that got him his cutie mark.

He currently resided in Junction R-7, the railroad settlement that exploded outwards into a town thanks to the Stable Dweller's deeds. Granted, his shelter was a shared boxcar-for-a-room not even on the rails, but at least the bedding was nice.

There was an open skylight and many windows, allowing sunlight to stream into the container so it was not dark in the day, and the darkness of night was alleviated by the return of the moon and the stars.

The main aesthetic of the car was wood. A dark, red tinged wood that matched the age old furnishing. The floor was made of the stuff, as were the seats and booths that now served as beds for the other esteemed guests of Junction Town. The seats all had burgundy cushions, some in better condition than others. Falcon's was in almost in a pristine state. Little things like that that reminded him the universe was not out to get him.

Falcon Wing laid on his back, legs stretched out on the long seat, hood draping off of the edge and hovering above the floor where his saddlebags were set down. A window was directly over him, rays of light shining over the red colt. His right foreleg was under his head while he flipped through his Pipeye settings with the other.

He had discovered the thing had a radio as a feature not too long ago, which meant the loss of his actual radio was no loss at all. It was used for a good cause, surely giving up listening to music and DJ Pon3 in exchange for finding and taking out Enclave forces was a fair trade.

He tried not to think about what happened to Flint.

He found that the broadcast quality of a Stable-Tec radio to be top notch. At first the volume was incredibly high but a few panicked turns of the dial rectified the issue. At that, Falcon Wing pulled his hood further over his face and hoped there weren't ponies looking over their seats at him.

"-ave today, faithful listeners. Ol’ DJ Pon3’s got some packin’ t’ do, an’ I need t’ program a good week or three o’ music before I go. One final announcement: earlier, I was able t’ spend some time with Velvet here in my recording studio; and startin’ today, Velvet Remedy’s Equestrian Anthem will be part of our musical rotation

Knew you’d enjoy hearin’ that!

But for now, I leave you with this song, an ol’ favorite. I dedicate this one to Strawberry Lemonade, Amber Waves, and every other pony who gave their lives at the Battle of Dragon Mountain. You stood fast, defending valiantly without even knowing what you were dying to protect --"

Falcon shut off the radio.

"Just my luck to miss an entire news segment!" he thought with a sigh.

The sound of approaching hoofsteps set itself apart from the rest of the din inside the boxcar and immediately gave way to the sound of shuffling just off to his side. He pulled his hood from over his eyes and sat up, looking over the dark red table that separated him from a very particular mare.

"Just your luck to miss an entire Pon3 broadcast, huh Falcon?" Alana said with a snicker. She was sitting in the opposite seat of the booth with a tray of various foods in front of her. She was wearing that gray barding of hers and had been carrying large saddlebags that she rested on either side of her on the bench. "Those things look really funny on you!" she added before leaning into the tray and nibbling on a carrot.

A carrot.

A carrot that was whole.

A carrot that was whole, somewhat discolored but not in a can.

Food that did not come from a can.

He raised the brass goggles from his eyes, left them on his forehead and stared wide eyed at the find.

Alana giggled, "Orange definitely suits you better than green!"

"I could say the same about that carrot, but since it's an actual carrot who gives a flying --!"

Alana gave him a warning look without raising her head from the tray, halting her chewing.

"... Phoenix," Falcon finished saying. Alana smiled, bit the carrot in half and swallowed her piece.

"Never seen a carrot down here?" she asked.

"I've seen pictures. On the cans. Canned carrots. The cans with so much preservatives in them that you can mummify a pony without any bandages," the red colt replied, still transfixed on the vegetable. "I haven't seen a whole carrot since I left the clouds... that was over a month ago...holy...phoenix I haven't seen a whole vegetable in over a month!" he said a tad bit too loud. A few ponies gave him sidelong looks and once again he sank into his seat and pulled the hood over his face.

"You are a very strange little pony, Falcon," Alana said with a shake of her head. At least she stopped calling him mister hero after well over two weeks.

"Yeah well, for a pegasus like me the Wasteland is chock full of wonders and amazement. Speaking of which, it's funny how we both ended up here in R-7," Falcon Wing replied.

"Not really," the caramel mare replied with a wave of her hoof. "I did say my mother and I would have come here if we left Hope, and since Hope is doing just fine I thought it was time to see the rest of the Wasteland. Maybe lend a hoof where needed, you know?"

"A bit too well, actually," Falcon Wing responded without elaborating. Of course any Wasteland sightseer would start their journey in Junction Town. It was, after all, the capital of the New Canterlot Republic! "think I could join you?"

Alana put a hoof to her chin and made an exaggerated thinking face, complete with a loud thoughtful hum that got a few passing glances from the other ponies.

"Yeah, sure why not! It'd be like old times except hopefully there will be less anger. And crying. And sexual tension,"

"Excuse me?" Falcon replied.

"Want the rest of my carrot?" Alana offered.

Falcon arched his brow. "... Okay," Falcon Wing replied, reaching out and taking a small bite of the carrot....

Which he then ate whole with another large gulp.

"Wow. You weren't kidding," Alana said flatly.

Falcon pulled down the goggles, went through his inventory sorter and retrieved a canteen, drinking a small amount before having it returned to his bag. He then raised them from his eyes.

"No. No I was not," he replied; paused then asked "What have Klaxon and Steiner been doing?"

"Well, last I saw they were loading up a wagon and were moving out of Ponyville, going back to Hope to help fix things up there, though I heard Steiner's gonna take a while longer," Alana asked then started eating the yellow-gray mush that was applesauce. What Falcon Wing assumed to be applesauce, at least.

"Longer? Why?"

Alana pulled a cloth from a bandolier and wiped her muzzle with it.

"Ponies are realizing Ponyville doesn't have a raider presence anymore and that, with a bit of... sprucing up... it can be a place to live again. Steiner told me that with his magic, he could help rebuild. Something about being a better pony," Alana said; flashing Falcon Wing a wry look when she was done speaking. She mouthed his nickname.

Falcon Wing sighed and shook his head. There was no winning this fight.

"And Klaxon is planning on doing a few builds himself in the compound. Repairs or new projects were all the same to him back when I was a filly, he saw a problem and he went about fixing it. I suppose it's no different now. Well, maybe a little. Before he didn't know you mister h --"

"Where did you get all of that stuff anyway? I've just realized just how starving I am!" Falcon Wing interjected cheerily.