Fallout Equestria: Taking Life By The Horns

by Pokonic

You Probably Can Expect Trouble

I was woken from my slumber on a moldering mattress by the sound of something mechanical moving outside, which surprised me nearly as much as the fact I had a idea of what that sounded like. Looking to my side, I saw the prone, robe-covered form of Blueberry Cream, the possibly insane scribe I was bound to on this little quest of ours. I sighed in relief.

The last thing I needed was for her to ditch me when I was sleeping. I looked over the dehablitied room we had moved into over the night and then at the cart. We both decided that a lack of a fire was worth not being seen, and the cart was something too important to leave outside. I only had to knock a little bit of the rotten walls near the former doorway in order to fit our lifeline inside it. Luckily for the both of us, the former owners were absent from their house, so there was no need to remove any corpses from the beds we pulled out into what might’ve been the central room of the house.

Sure, the place was slightly. . . water damaged, and it had been long since been picked over by looters for anything not attached to the ground. There was a bed, and a well-locked wooden box. Said box had a decent sized padlock, which was easily torn off by yours truly. Inside was, much to my semi-dismay, a very warm grey blanket. Why ponies would lock a blanket in a wooden box was beyond me, but it was soft, and warm enough that I could ignore the fact we were sleeping in a very run-down house that smelled of mildew and other, less pleasant things.

Nevertheless, I was awake, there was something very large moving on the road outside. Going by the lighting, it was not yet morning, but it was getting close. Blueberry stirred slightly.

Gently pulling off the grey blanket, I half-crept over to the doorframe and peaked outside. I then felt my jaw go slack.

Sweet Discord, was that a tank!?

Now, I only had a general idea of what a tank looked like, but this fit the bill. It was a great metal box nearly as tall as the room in which we had set up camp, and was nearly as wide, with a big metal spade-like structure in the front that was probably for protecting the inner parts. I could make out at least one gun barrel on the thing, nearly as wide as my torso, and there were probably more than what I could not see. It was painted a vivid red, and there was a vast network of pips, lights, and other moving structures near its rear that just made the whole thing look like a miniature industrial death-dealer. For whatever reason, there was also what looked like a red. . . couch near its front, as if the drivers wanted to see the mechanized behemoth obliterate everything in its path.

It was a giant personalized beacon of shooty death, made by sadists who wanted to watch the death of their fellow equines from a nice view. Shit, there was probably air conditioning on the damned thing!

And it was heading away from where we were supposed to be going.

I was going to go and alert the local Steel Ranger about the giant metal box with very big guns heading away from Braymont’s interior when she finally decided to wake up and smell the burning coal.

Groggy, slightly confused, and huddled in her oversized robe to the point of barely showing her head, she just trotted over to the doorway without actually saying anything to me. However, her choked gasp of fear and stereotypical pony gun-envy told me that she saw the newest threat to our safety clearly. Not like it was easy to miss.

And so, despite our plans, we decided not to leave camp as early as possible to head for the inner parts of the town, on the off chance that it was a herald for something worse. As such, we tried to go into a slumber unsuccessfully, unable to go asleep thanks to the horrible clink-whirr of the metal behemoth outside that lit up the wasteland as it rode down the crumbling road.

---

It was an hour before we both believed it was safe, and by then the sun had come up. Not willing to wait another day to sneak in under the cover of darkness like we supposedly planned, we both decided to pack up and start moving.

And it was a decent two hours of travel, too, before we met the newest threat to our lives. Frankly, Braymont was boring. Most of the structures had long since gone rotten, and the only ponies that lived here were scavengers or. . . worse. Apparently, it was half abandoned even before the whole “end of the world” and it was irradiated enough to the point it was unlivable for most. Blueberry just said that, if the news on her radio was true (when was she going to tell me she had one!?) the NCR was moving in to deal with a issue regarding the viability of the area as a camp site. Which, of course, meant the few locals in the area were going nuts.

Speaking of locals, one has been tailing us on the road for a few minutes. Scraggy grey earth pony, probably half-dead from radiation poisoning going by the sores it sported.

Blueberry was prepared to put the creature out of it’s misery with a shot from Self Defence, but I gave her a hard glance. It was hardly appropriate for us to go around and shoot ponies that looked like they needed to die. If we did that, I insisted, everyone in the wasteland would be dead.

She just gave me a little glare and pretended not to notice the trotter behind us. The poor twit was hardly a threat, in my mind, considering all it had was a crappy brown bag. It couldn’t even hide properly, and was trying to sneak around the moldering buildings that surrounded us as we passed. Half my mind just wanted to yell at it, while the other part was just saying it was another traveler.

However, something broken and half-choked came from behind me. Slightly pleased, I realised it was the formerly stalking pony, trotting at a higher speed to catch up with us. Stopping my own steady walk, I moved away from the cart and walked around the thing.

Blueberry just jumped off it.

The. . . colt gave the closest thing he could give that resembled a heartfelt greeting.

“He-hello there?”

Oh, damn it. He really was screwed; his hair was falling out.

Blueberry got that look in her eye as she glanced at his bag., which contained something round and possibly expensive. No, not again. No more murders.

She just smiled sweetly at the buck, who I realized was actually a tan color: his ashy skin was so ruined it just resembled wavy fur from a distance. He returned a weak smile.

“So, are you heading for the NCA site to trade?”

The buck gave her a look, as if she was the one with the half-fried brain. “Yeah, I am. I just came back f-from the city, and me and my buddies were going to trade some memory...orbs.”

Blueberries eyes shined with glee. The colt just looked at her, and then at me. He somehow became paler than he already was once he realized his position.

“Oh-oh goddesses, your. . . let me. . . please don’t. . .” he begged.

Blueberry dropped her smile.

“We have Rad-Away, but not enough to give freebees. The orb for a packet.”

He blanched. “But you don’t even know what’s on it, miss!”

Blueberry just grinned. “You risked radiation poisoning for the thing, and don’t tell me you lied. You're too tired to do that.”

He gulped. “Th-the University o-of Tauronto?”

Blueberry just stared at him blankly. Wait, if he was coming from the west, he would have been coming from the other...

I gave a snort.

“Liar.”, I said.

He began to panic. “ I swear it’s from there! I swear! It’s important too! Grabbed it from a dead mare’s desk, I did!”

I raised an eyebrow at his disgrace to grammar, but Blueberry just looked at him with new interest.

“Perhape’s if we get a peak at it, we will let you pass? Just a little look. If its worth keeping, we will give you some Rad-Away.”

It was a fruitless offer. No amount of purging could save this wannabie ghoul.

He looked unsure, but shifted slightly. Eventually, after some hesitation, he passed what might have been his only worldly possession to her magical grip. The little light grey orb twinkled in the not-light.

“Watchful, your Recollector.”

I blinked. She wanted me too...gah. It’s not worth arguing. I don’t know anything about memory orbs, and hear I am about to see my first one on the orders of little miss first amongst equals. Sometimes, I feel like a pushover. Blueberry just have me a winning smile and pointed her hoof into the direction of the cart.

I grumbled, and took a few steps over the the cart. It was easy to find, considering it was in my scarcely packed bag.

She looked at me. I put it on, a tight fit between my horns. She just hovered it over my head, and let it drop into the curved part of the cursed object with a tinny plunk.

And then everything went gray.

oooOOOooo

So, this was what the past was like.
Huh.

…

Kind of warm.

…

Okay, four limbs, a oversized head, no horn, so just a regular poooonnwaaaiiitt a second.
…

Well, this was interesting. I felt fuzzy.

…..

Okay, going by how my thighs shifted, I am a female pony, apparently.
…

Wait,is this pony blind?

…

Did memory orbs come with instruction manuals?

…

Wonder if this is trapped.

….

Heard something about that, unicorns going into comas because they entered these things. Is that why Blueberry asked me to...

…

Curse that tiny sociopathic steel ranger.

….

Is it going to end any time soon?

…

And then everything exploded in color.

Whoa! What is this...were my eyes closed? That must have been it. Me-err, the pony, were in some sort of giant, brown, well-lit room in front of a stage-like area with an aged-looking unicorn at the helm. There was at least a few score other colorful ponies in similar positions, each with there own desk on individual rows, each quietly writing down what the old pony in front droned on about something. It reminded me of the commune, really, but with ponies and desks.

Wait, that did not make any sense.

I/she looked down at her…Desk? Was this a school? I try to take a better look at the room, but my host was moving her head too much for me to take in anything besides just how large the place was. And the colors were beginning to make we...me wish for the gift of dull brown again.

Then some sort of alarm rings out, which makes me and my host snap out of …our daze. But going by the other ponies faces, they were...happy? What sort of alarm would make ponies happy?

But then I saw them begin to exit from two double-doors on each side of the great hall, and I sighed in relief. But then the pony I was in began trotting over to the front of the room down a set of tricky wooden stairs. I..She...the pony felt decent enough. Not bad, albeit slightly worried. The only thing I could get about my hosts appearance was that she had apparently very shiny purple hair and shiny light blue fur. Very shiny in fact. Wonder what pre-war ponies washed with, powdered gems?

Wait, I felt what she was...oh, gosh; this was not going to be a nice ride, is it? The feeling of sinking dread is universal, apparently.

By the time my hostess got down the stairs, I got a closer look at the pony in front of the class. He was strange for a pony, actually.

The stallion, for it was unmistakably one, was smallish for an adult, but was very...evil looking, frankly. No other word would be accurate. He had a matted-looking brown mane and had fur that resembled something you would use in a metaphor to describe darkness, and had piss-yellow eyes and a scowl that could make a calf cry. His hooves were chipped and grimy looking, and he generally slumped as he moved no matter what he did, and his cute mark was a set of golden scales. Finally, he had the weirdest looking horn I have ever seen, lacking the little grooves I knew of and pitch-black and smooth. Furthermore, it was quite long and very pointy-looking, almost as if it was sharpened. I swore the light of the room was adsorbed into the damned thing.

He was staring at me with something akin to disgust, mouth curled into a sneer. I felt fear. It was a natural reaction.

“Err, sir?”

If I could blink, I would have. My voice was very...something. I could taste the sugar in my mouth every time she breathed, that’s how sweet the voice coming out of...my...her mouth was. Weird.

The stallion in front of me just gave a little glare at my host.

“Yes?”

Okay, if he did not eat babies, I will eat a rock. Nothing nice could have that voice. It sounded like what you would imagine a devil from Tartarus to sound like, low and threatening, something that would make wary parents keep there foals away from him if he was walking in, say, a park.

Again, Copper Pot taught me many phrases I will never truly know the meaning of. Discord bless his strange little heart.

Neverless, my host meekly attempted to speak clearly. “Err, Professor, I-”

The “professor” practically snapped at her then, eyes practically flashing with something akin to arrogance.

“Your name?” he said.

My host tripped over her own name, for whatever reason.

“My name, my name is Amber…Leaf?” I said, not sounding or feeling confidant whatsoever.

He spat at her, which drew a little meep from my host and from me frankly. I knew goat’s with better disposition then this unicorn!

“Your real name, Crystalite, not the one given to you. Tell me the one your parents gave you, I cannot stand those names Image decided to give your kind. Come on, dear, where is your racial pride?”

After several moments of fearful disbelief, she responded hastily.

“It’s is...Aurea Laurea, sir. My name is Aurea Laurea.”

The stallion breathed in deeply, and exhaled with something like satisfaction. Frankly, I was beginning to dread why this was memory was extracted.

“Ah, a fine name, I must say. Tell me, Aurea, would you kindly remind me why did you had it changed?”

“The-the ponies that came to use said that would help with our integration into regular pony society, sir.”

The professor just nodded slightly.

“And you decided on equestrian history as your government sponsored class why, miss Aurea?”

Aurea suddenly blurted out something that confused me slightly.” I-it was part of our...Sir! I wanted to speak to you about your promotion!”

The professors eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed as if he was speechless.

“I am...where in the world did my...I am deeply...”

Aurea’s tone became harder.” I will leave your first choice words when I talk to Plum. Really now, a master mage of one of Equestria’s highest institutes for learning having anti-Empirical thoughts would just send Druggie into a tizzy, would it not?”

I was confused right now. The words were not...flowing properly, with my mouth not actually making the words I was hearing. Like the original words were removed and new ones were added later.

The stallion just nodded, a wide, fearful smile gracing his face. “And I suppose Plum is...”

Aurea rolled her eyes, possibly. For whatever reason, I was feeling numb. I felt less like a living person and more like one along with the ride.

“Of course, Plum is my lessons coach. Now, there is the matter of miss Dusky Glimmer entering the school grounds.”

The old stallion gave a little annoyed hiss.

“Who is that supposed to be, Sparkles ghetto-fabulous half-cousin?! Who is coming up with these idiotic names?”

What. I didn't even know where to start.

Aurea, however, did not seem to find it funny, and actually stomped on the ground. “Stick to the plan, and it’s------”

Her mouth was moving, but nothing came out. Was this thing tampered with?

“---- And it hardly matters, sir. So, anyway, you were going to ask me a question?”

However, the professor just nodded hastily, and almost shifted into a mask of sorts. All business with a friendly student with a few questions.

“How long are you staying here, Aurea?”

“Until I learn what I need to know about our history. Besides my general studies, I really want to get something out of this class.”

The professor looked mildly surprised, but nodded in approval. “There is a fine selection of books in the biomagic wing on the subject of healing, you understand.”

“I checked through them already, I was going to ask if I could see your notes on the subject.”

“You understand what is in those cannot be allowed to the other students, yes? You might be seen as cheating.”

Aurea gave a little nod and smile.“Ah, but several are already copying there answers, and its not like Plum will need help with advanced magic’s.”

The stallion raised a eyebrow. “But I thought you were helping Plum study?”

“No, Plum is helping Glimmer. It’s all Bedazzled and Morganites fault that I am here.”

The stallion looked aghast. “I know Bedazzled enough to know she would need help, Celestia knows how many times she has looked over her textbook and asked me questions about it, but Morganite? I thought she was out of school!”

Aurea just shrugged. “It shocked me, too, far more than you, probably, but apparently she took a peak into the old Headmasters office and found some things she would love to look into. Extra curricular, if one will.”

The professor looked genuinely disturbed, and took a shaky breath. Another weird pause with no talking followed, but eventually he began talking normally. “Off the record, I simply must ask, what are you planning to do...when you graduate?”

Aurea probably gave another little shrug.” School has been rough; I might just pretend I was on vacation and get paid my entire life afterword. I might get a journal made, though, in case I need to remember what I learned. That’s Plums advice, anyway. As you said, Crystalites live a long time, and I want to live with a endless supply of bits to make up for the time I have spent here.”

The professor just looked at her amused contempt, and said “I myself was thinking of becoming Headmaster myself.”

It was Aurea’s turn to be shocked. The old pony just grinned a nasty little grin.

And then, there was a vague roaring noise, and everything went black.

oooOOOooo

I was confused, mildly achy, and rather annoyed. That entire conversation was probably in code. The orb was probably useless unless you lived two hundred years ago and cared what a butch of weird ponies did behind each others backs for fun and profit. What was a “crystalite”, anyway? Was there a butch of similar orbs detailing stuff like that all over the bloody wasteland?

I fluttered my eyes open, only to notice that, for whatever reason, the world was bathed in a dark grey light. And my Recollector or whatever one calls it was missing. And I was alone in the cart, which was missing our stuff.

Then I noticed that, besides having been moved onto the cart, Blueberry was smiling sheepishly.

“What in the name of Discord did you do?”

She nudged her shoulder to the left, a pained expression of false glee straining her face.

I turned.

There was half-dozen ponies in combat armor glaring at us, to be exact, me.

I looked to my right, and saw a similar sight.

I also noticed that each had a rather clean rifle besides them, and that we were surrounded by buildings that looked like…

…military…

…camps…

…Did that sign say “NCA?”…

...it did...

“Do not move, Minotaur scum!” said one of the members of the small army of heavily armed speciest ponies that surrounded us.

Oh, well, golly damn it all to hell, Blueberry.

Comments

[Cloverman The Purple]

Damn, He needs to get better friends. I just hope he gets to show some badassness in the near future.

[Pokonic]

2049496 Friends? Oh, he's going to have friends. The sort of friends on which metaphors are made of.

He's going the be the least weirdest member on the team by the end, don't you worry.

[Cloverman The Purple]

2049573 What about showing off his awesome minotaur awesomeness? And I get the feeling the phrase, "who needs enemies when I have friends like you", is going to apply to his "friends".

[Pokonic]

2049709
Not going to spoil anything, but his "SPECIAL" states really do apply well to the story. Let's just say it will take more than physical might to get out of the situations he is going to end up in. Luckally, he has a decent brain in his head.

[Forum Explorer]

So I'm guessing Blueberry shot that radiated pony.

Great story though.

[Pokonic]

2055295
Now, that's a terrible accusation against a mare who clearly has issues.

.....

Not saying that it's not true, but it's still a terrible accusation.

[Balmas]

Boy, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it, Watchful? I love seeing you progress as a writer. And you are, too.

[Pokonic]

2061946 Why, thank you!