Fallout Equestria: Natural Selection

by Zedrei

Chapter One - Salvage

Chapter One

Salvage

Deep within the labyrinthine rubble of a dark and forgotten Ministry of Magic complex, the grey dust stirs for the first time in centuries. A bloatsprite, peacefully grazing on a rusted girder, chitters indignantly, casting to and fro with its glittering gemstone eyes. It spotted the thing that had disturbed its meal and had just a second let out a shriek of alarm, before exploding with a shattering report, spraying ichor.

Rusty spat out his pistol, and grinned.

He was an earth pony with a ruddy, ochre colouration, blending perfectly with the wasteland grime that spattered him from head to hoof. His mane, also brown and filthy, was trapped under a helmet crudely fashioned from a tin pot, with cooking handle still attached. His cutie mark, encrusted as it was, was visible as a desert rat, perfectly complimenting his starved appearance. Emerging from his crawlspace he sat on the broken stones and scratched furiously with a hind leg, dislodging a cloud of dust. Looking furtively about with quick brown eyes, he lifted his head and shouted at the top of his reedy voice.

“Oi! Zappa! Beefcake! Youses can come out now! I got’s us feed see?”

The ruins to the western side of the sunken hollow clattered with movement, and two other ponies forced their way through a gap in the suffocating rubble.

The first was the most noticeable, forging through the loose stones like a ship through water, and heaving aside even colt-sized boulders with little effort. Looming a full head taller than the others, he appeared like an intimidating wall of muscle, every movement speaking of barely contained power. His obvious and terrifying strength was offset by a placid, square jawed face with gentle half-closed grey eyes. His coat, mane and tail were a stark, bleached white, and behind his broad shoulders rested a crudely made battle-saddle, toting an enormous machine gun, clearly wrenched from its mounting and directly bolted on. His cutie mark was a large bronze gear.

The third individual, trotting behind the giant stallion so as to avoid the dust, was the most unusual. His coat, although a perfectly ordinary brown, was kept as scrupulously clean as it was possible to be in the wasteland grime. In addition to bulging saddlebags he wore a red and white camouflaged cap, complete with tinted goggles perched above the brim. Protruding through the ostentatious headgear was a spiralling horn, identifying him as a unicorn and a practitioner of magic. The mark on his flank was a jagged bolt of electricity crossed with a screwdriver. His cunning green eyes rolled in exasperation as the mountainous white pony approached his suddenly miniscule comrade, a thunderous frown on his normally passive features.

“Ma name is Cog ye' raggedy little insect…” he rumbled, lowering his head to glare into the brown colt’s grinning face, “…and ye’d best remember lest ye' want te' keep all ye’ legs!”

Rusty glared back until they were almost nose to nose.

“An’ what?” he hissed, “you’ll eat em will youse? Like youse et almost ev’ry fuckin’ thing we got since last fuckin’ week! Ever heard of a fuckin’ low carb diet?”

Cog snarled with rage and swung a plate-sized hoof, but Rusty cackled and scuttled away like a bug, dancing just out of reach.

Zapper the unicorn sat watching for a while, head in his hooves, too bored with the continued antics of his associates to intervene.

The scuffle progressed. Eventually Zapper decided enough was enough, and when Cog began making a spirited attempt to twist Rusty’s head off, the unicorn summoned his innate magic, horn glowing and launching a crackling blue bolt of electricity between the combatants.

The effect was spectacular. The bolt struck the ground and flashed blindingly, leaving a thick scorch mark, a heavy stench of ozone, and two blackened, groaning ponies, hair on-end, twitching and sizzling gently.

Zapper walked over and leaned down, ignoring the smell of singed equine.

“Now, you two, git this into the maladjusted meat b’tween ye' ears…” he said in a smooth Appaloosan drawl, “Tomorrow we will be entering the remains of a facility owned by one of the most powerful military organisations in the whole of Equestria. There will be tech, weapons and salvage for the taking. There will also be many varieties of security droids, traps an’ Luna knows whut else. So cut the crap, put in your tampons an’ let’s do this okay? Whinge once if ye’ understand”

“Ah’l take that as a ‘yes sir Mr Z!’” he said in response to the whimpered torrent of complex profanity. Zapper levitated a folding chair from his saddlebags to more comfortably await the recovery of his comrades, and settled back with a contented sigh. Eventually they managed to stagger upright, and casting filthy looks at each other they began to set up camp, lighting a fire, pitching tents and setting simple traps to keep wildlife at bay.

Watching them, Zapper thought about the morons he had saddled himself with. It had been a hard journey. There had been much to prepare, much supplies to gather and caps to spend. Unfortunately he was as paranoid a pony as there ever was, and had been desperate enough to hire these two as bodyguards. They were experienced, loyal and more importantly, cheap. He had done business with them before, and trusted them. Not for any sentimental reasons though. Cog still clung to abstract and outdated concepts of honour, and Rusty was simply too stupid to devise any kind of mutiny.

Despite their glowing talents Zapper would have happily traded them both for a guard that didn’t speak, or even better, a cold beer. Or a hot apple pie. Or perhaps some new clothes…

Lost in happy daydreams Zapper was started awake by Cog announcing dinner was served. He went over to where the white stallion was sitting by the fire, meditatively stirring the pot suspended above it.

There was a thick, brown liquid bubbling within.

Zapper thought he saw a beautiful, glittering eye float, just for a moment, before sinking beneath the seething stew.

Cog saw Zapper’s expression of horror, and clanged his spoon down sharply on the edge of the pot.

“You keep ye’ words in! There’s always hard-tack if ye’ don’t like ma cookin’!”

Zapper winced, and worked to keep a straight face as the mixture was oozed into his bowl. Rusty had no such qualms, snatching it away as soon as the last drop fell, bolting the stew down, and glaring balefully as Cog poured out his own portion at a deliberately slow pace.

After the evening meal came to a close the party drew lots to determine who would take first watch. Rusty drew the short straw and resentfully assumed a lookout position, while the others retreated to the superficial shelter of their tents.

From his perch atop a cracked pillar of ancient concrete, Rusty miserably scanned the bleak and broken horizon. Darkness was closing in. Their camp was situated in a little explored corner of what was once Manehattan, with long fields of abandoned apartment blocks stretching up towards the tortured clouds. Most were damaged in some way, either by spells, conventional munitions or simply the onslaught of time. Their crooked silhouettes glowed orange as the last slivers of sunlight slid towards the edge of the sky. For a moment the city seemed alive again, with light shining through the windows.

Then the frail, wavering sun was gone. The shadows fell like lead, ensnaring everything in emptiness. Rusty frantically waved a hoof before his face but saw nothing. He tried the other three, still nothing. The only light was an imperceptible glow from the campsite. Rusty felt like a mariner, seeing a lighthouse in the distance, but not knowing the invisible dangers that lay between. Or he would feel that way, if he knew what a mariner was. Currently all he knew was that the senses that had kept him alive through years of stealing, sneaking and surviving were telling him to run, and keep running.

Then the noise started.

It began with a single cry. A high, wavering wail, from far off in the ruined city. Many others replied, at varying tones and pitch, combining into one bloodcurdling ululation that filled the night from edge to edge, rebounding from the towers and reverberating from all directions. Rusty leaped in terror, spinning round and round atop the pillar of rock as the cries rolled on and on into the dark.

*** *** ***

Only Zapper appeared relatively fresh-faced in the morning, thanks to the copious amounts of sleeping pills he had imbibed earlier. The others emerged from their tents like the ponies of the apocalypse, lurching over to the fire, downing the last of their precious coffee supplies, and slumping to the ground to stare hollow-eyed at the empty cups. Zapper’s cheery good mornings were met by a silent wave of dull hatred, leaving him feeling the happiest he’d felt in years. With a smug grin on his face he rummaged in his saddlebags for the object that had brought them to this desolate and unfriendly place. Finding it he levitated it before him, studying the unusual device.

It was called a Pip-Buck 3000. It said thus on the casing, engraved in flowing calligraphy, next to a large, gently pulsing screen and a collection of dials and switches. The whole array was designed to be attached to a pony’s foreleg, via the pair of padded clamps on the underside of the device. Such things were rare, originating from the Stables, great underground bunkers where the luckier ponies retreated to avoid the great destruction centuries ago, only to resurface when the world was habitable once more. Zapper had bought this one from a wandering trader who had been using it for organising his stock, having no idea what he had stumbled upon.

Currently the screen displayed a map, a map showing the whole of Equestria laid out in perfect detail, with a glowing arrow showing the user’s location. There was also a dotted line leading from the arrow to another pulsing dot but an hour’s walk away.

This was what the three travellers had been seeking. This was why they had slogged through mountains, swamps and deserts for weeks on end, and fought past slavers, bandits and bugs till they had shed rivers of blood and sweat.

A secret compound of the Ministry of Arcane Science. A laboratory and testing centre for the deadliest weapons and technology ever to exist since ponykind realised that not all transgressions can be forgiven.

Zapper’s grin widened and greed blossomed within his heart at the thought of the power within his reach.

Breakfast was a hasty affair, with Zapper declining a ration and tapping a hoof impatiently while the others ate sickly apples plucked from a past roadside. After an interminable fifteen minutes they cleared the camp and set off northwards towards the central cluster of apartment blocks.

They crept forward slowly, constantly wary for the slightest hint of danger. Zapper walked in front, focussed on the information the Pip-Buck gave him via its flickering green glow. Cog rolled along behind, the saddle with its huge armament rocking with his movements. Last, and least, Rusty scuttled about at the rear, gaze nervously flickering back and forth and jumping at the slightest noise.

At length they came upon a deep trench, gouged from the ground at the base of the tallest of the housing towers, its steely flanks meeting concrete and raw earth. As they stood at the trench’s gaping mouth Zapper hissed for quiet.

They froze. Cog slowly took the bit of his battle-saddle between his teeth and twisted, the clack of the mechanism unbearably loud in the confined space. Rusty leaped silently onto Cog’s back and aimed his pistol between the white stallion’s ears.

There was a noise, a loud crackling, like rain falling on flame. A strange luminescence filled the air, along with a sharp, gunpowder reek.

Zapper edged breathlessly up to the corner and rested his head against the concrete. Then he turned his head, ever so slowly, straining an eyeball to the corridor beyond.

Then he relaxed, parched lungs gasping in relief. He smiled tiredly at the others.

“Relax everypony, it’s just a magic leak”

“What’s a magic leak?” said Rusty peevishly.

“One of those…” Zapper replied simply, gesturing with a hoof.

They all walked into the centre of the trench, their eyes aglow with wonder.

The trench continued straight on. Protruding from the crumbling walls were numerous cables, some an inch in diameter, some the size of small houses. From each and every one of the tangled metal strands issued a fountain of technicolor brilliance. Jagged strands of bright energy danced back and forth anarchically, leaving searing trails in the air. They screamed and sparked in a strange and deadly tangle, scorching the ground and filling the trench with choking multi-coloured smoke.

The three travellers stood for a while, surrounded by the mind-destroying noise like a dozen thunderstorms. After a time Cog decided to voice the thought that was in everypony's minds.

“How’re we gonna git though that?” he said bluntly.

Zapper thought for a while, brow knotting as he searched his mind for any spells that might assist them. He'd been brought up in Tenpony Tower, and thus had the best education post-apocalyptia could provide, along with extensive training in the different uses of Unicorn magic.

“Ah could try an anti-magic field…” he said doubtfully “but I’m not sure it’d stand up to power like this…”

Cog snorted impatiently. “Jest do you’re voodoo already. This place is too exposed to hang around”

Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Zapper reached within himself and the magic responded. His horn flared with light, the blue glow at odds with the towering cascade beyond. He closed his eyes, and stepped forward.

Almost immediately a bright spear of energy slashed towards him like a striking snake. But as soon as it got within five feet it curved in its trajectory, shrieking off to impact with the concrete in a deafening explosion.

Zapper laughed delightedly, looking back at his fellows with the dazzling lights shimmering in his eyes.

“C’mon fillies, let’s do this thing” he said with a wide grin and unbearable aplomb, nodding towards the suddenly distant gap at the end of the trench.

Cog and Rusty looked at each other, then looked back at Zapper surrounded by a flashing nimbus of pure magical power. Rusty glared back into Cog’s interrogative expression, stubbornly folding his forelegs.

“Youses can just start walking cos I ain’t movin’!” he said from his perch on Cog’s wide, muscular back.

Cog growled in consternation, but he knew there was no time for mincing Rusty into the greasy smear he so deserved to be. So he shut his eyes tight and began to edge forward, one tentative hoof at a time.

“Come on you two! Ah cain’t wait for another damn doomsday!” shouted Zapper, growing impatient.

Cog jumped and lumbered forward, causing Rusty to cling for dear life as he was jolted by Cog’s swaying stride.

Together the three began a steady trot onwards, at a slow enough speed for Zapper to maintain his concentration, but fast enough to avoid being blasted with magic should the spell fail, if such a thing were possible.

The eclectic mesh of energy parted before them, thrashing angrily beyond the invisible barrier. It seemed to resent their intrusion into its rightful domain, striking the ground all around their position with increasing frequency. The spell protected them from the wild unbound magic, but they were showered with splinters of hot stone from the numerous impacts, and had to take special care to dodge the blackened craters that would lame an unwary pony.

Sweat ran freely on Zapper’s brow. The spell swam unsteadily at the forefront of his mind, like a swaying tower of eggshell crockery that had to be constantly rebalanced. His deafened ears registered nothing. There was only the drumbeat of his heart, the muffled clatter of hooves and the angry howl of magical lightning. The end of the trench wavered in his vision, simultaneously close and oh so far away.

Then suddenly they were through, the cracked and filthy walls giving way to sweet, sweet space. The magic gave them a last parting gift, a jagged bolt snapping at their heels and detonating, sending them hurtling forwards into the dust.

Cog picked himself up from the pile of rubble that had broken his fall. He noticed a familiar-looking metal handle protruding from the pile and reached in, extracting a dust-ingrained Rusty by the scruff of his mane.

“Damn that was close…” he said, cracking his neck, “Where in th’ hells is Zapper?”

Rusty shook himself like a dog and pointed.

Zapper was a short distance away, levitating a full-length mirror and staring in horror at the dust encrusting his fine coat. He magicked a brush from within his saddlebags and began grooming frantically.

Cog sighed in exasperation. “Ain’t there anything in those bags that ain’t you’re beauty products?”

“Some of it…” said Zapper distractedly, struggling with a clump of cement somehow entangled in his mane.

The brush fell to the ground when he saw what lay ahead.

The area around them was a vast clearing almost a mile across, a shattered crater half filled with the detritus of an ancient explosion. The stone was charred and strangely melted, turning to a glass-like substance. Further ahead, at the centre, was…

Zapper leaped into a gallop, sprinting with all his strength, the joyous anticipation in his heart propelling him onwards. He kept running long before the others fell behind, only skidding to a halt when the ground fell away into a deep and treacherous pit.

Eventually Cog clattered up behind with Rusty in tow, both looking in askance at Zapper’s wicked grin. Without a word he summoned the magic and pushed.

All three shot over the edge, with Rusty letting out a whinny of terror. They slid down into the dark on an earthen slope that had been invisible from the edge of the pit, the blue luminescence of Zapper’s magic lighting the way. The drop carried on for some time, their hooves scrabbling for purchase, until they rolled free of the dusty slide onto blessedly solid round.

Rusty cowered on the smooth, damp concrete, before his head snapped up to glare hatefully at Zapper.

“Never! Ever! Do that fuckin’ thing again ya’ poncy fuckin’ prick!” he shouted in his reedy, foalish voice.

Zapper turned and stared.

“The first words spoken in this hallowed place in over two-hundred years and you say THAT? You FUCKING MORON!”

Rusty wilted in the face of Zapper’s murderous rage.

“I come all the fucking way here...!” he raved, “to this ancient fucking shithole, expecting some kind of fucking OCCASION! Are you high, or just fucking RETARDED!?”

Silence fell.

Cog walked over and laid a tentative hoof on Zapper’s shaking shoulder.

“Ye’ got that off your chest?” He said kindly.

“Don’t touch me!” snapped Zapper, sitting down with forelegs firmly crossed.

Suddenly there was a loud electronic hum in the air. In the walls halogen lamps snapped on. In the harsh white glare in was plain that the tunnel was artificial, with smooth concrete walls plastered with painted signs and warnings. Ahead there was a metal wall. In the centre, a large, circular, serrated metal door.

Cog and Rusty exchanged glances behind Zapper’s immobile head.

“Um… are we’s going in?” said Rusty.

“Shut up!” barked Zapper, stamping over to the control panel beside the door, “Shut your fucking hole! You’ve ruined it!”

With the others standing awkwardly behind Zapper angrily punched buttons on the control panel, which responded with electrical clicks, whirrs, and several red lights illuminating shakily. Zapper waited a few seconds, then snarled furiously and slammed the device with a hoof.

The panel sparked, there was a rattling sound and the lights turned a healthy green. A hideous metallic shrieking sawed the air as the door ground back into the wall, before rolling aside and releasing the stale stench of centuries.

They stared warily into the dark, bodies tense and weapons primed. There was no response though, no sudden rush of an attacking monster. Only an insistent mechanical rumbling, and a voice.

“Welcome, Technician Three-Two-Two-Seven...” It said, in a light and secretarial tone, possibly female.

“…You Are Two Hundred And Thirty Seven Years, Three Days, Four Hours And Fifty Three Minutes Behind Schedule. Please Report To Your Supervisor In Prototype Storage One. Otherwise, Have A Pleasant And Productive Day”

The voice cut off. Lights flickered on in the chromed ceiling, revealing a long, metal corridor painted a tasteful off-white. There was a yellow plastic sign propped in the middle, warning ponies to be careful on the wet floor, which was spotlessly clean.

“Well it sure was nice of ‘em to be polite” said Zapper sarcastically.

Cog tapped him on the shoulder and pointed upwards.

There was a large crusted stain on the ceiling, the colour of fine port.

At that moment there was a whirring noise from the end of the corridor, and a metallic, cylindrical object emerged from a side passage, moving at something less than a walking pace. Zapper recognised it as a household cleaning robot from before the war, shuffling along erasing even the smallest speck of grime with jets of superheated steam. It whined past them and set about vaporising the trails of dirty hoofprints in the entryway.

They moved on cautiously, hooves clacking loudly in the narrow space. The corridor came to a junction, with the passage to the right blocked by a huge slab of riveted steel with no controls visible. Beneath the metallic wall emerged the pathetic and bifurcated remains of a pony, skeletal forelegs reaching out in supplication. Although the corpse was clearly ancient it was completely clean, centuries of meticulous steam-washing giving the bones a glistening shine.

Taking the left exit they found themselves in a vast rectangular chamber, twenty hooves high, and filled with an incomprehensible array of scientific equipment. Long tables were spaced in geometrically precise intervals, covered with a vast sea of tangled glassware. The walls were encased in twisting nests of tubes filled with a rainbow of coloured liquids. Several cleaning robots murmured up and down the through the turmoil, gently dispelling morsels of dust from the delicate glass.

Zapper moved at a cautious trot, careful not to disturb the fragile material.

“Nothin’ to be had here…” he said dismissively, “let’s try through that purty lookin’ door over there”

Cog cleared his throat. “Uh, th’ one with all the red stripes an’ skulls an’ stuff on it?”

There was indeed a door at the end of the room. It was eight hooves high, steely and riveted, and stamped with jagged crimson chevrons. There was indeed a skull in the centre, the cranium of a pony silhouetted in black. All the pipes layering the walls lead to this one forbidding portal, snaking into sealed vents above the lintel.

Zapper almost skipped to the control panel, retrieving a cable from a groove in its surface. This he plugged into a port on the salvaged Pip-Buck.

Lights blinked and circuits hummed to themselves, as if delighted at their own cleverness. With a volcanic growl a glowing orange line traced the perimeter on the door, releasing the stink of burning metal. Ponderously the door swung inwards, the smell changing to fear and antiseptic.

The light was poor beyond the steaming doorway. Zapper conjured a light, and wished he hadn’t.

Glass. Metal. Flesh. Plastic. Half-formed things floated in unspeakable fluids. Miserable scraps of life twisted beyond recognition.

Cog swore softly and Rusty whined in wordless horror. Zapper swept an elegant handkerchief to his mouth as his gorge rose unbidden.

“Let’s go Z, now!” Cog whispered.

“No! I need…”

Cog caught Zapper’s chin and wrenched his gaze back to the wretched sight. “This is your motherfuckin’ salvage!” he snarled, “We. Are. Done!”

“There’s a unicorn over there…” whispered Rusty.

They looked. On either side of the doorway were the rows of tanks. Eight rows, six abreast, each with their grisly contents. But beyond them, shimmering greenly in the flickering light, were three more. Two were empty.

One held a pony, suspended in clear liquid, eyes closed, head surrounded by a halo of cables, straps and tubes.

He twitched slightly.

Comments

[Doomande]

I must say... I had never expected this before I read the chapter, so bravo I say. Maybe are you not the best one at descriptions and characters, I do at least find your descriptions rather blunt, and your characterization rather thing, even with only 4K words. But you know your words and how to use them that is for sure. It is clear that you are no Somber (no matter how much I hate it must I admit that he is a pretty good wordsmith) or Kkat, but you are still pretty high on the list, now do you just have to learn many tricks of the trade. Like how to pace your chapter better, how to really really draw people in with descriptions, and how to sharpen that edge on those descriptions, making them sneaky like and glide into our brains without the readers even noticing.

And speaking of notice, I saw that there wasn´t any new perks in this chapter, and after a little sneak peek did I she that the next one also are perk free, why is that? Because it is by now the norm to have them, or mention in a little notice if a character is at max level as an explanation on the missing perks.

Beside that is there not much to say, because it is hard to say anything when I am still at the skin of this story, not having dived properly into it yet and learned the characters and what not properly yet, so this is my feedback for now. Expect me back in the near future with some more of it, because there is more from where it came from.

Nitpicks
"Deep within the labyrinthine rubble of a dark and forgotten ministry of magic complex" Normally are the ministries written with capital letters.
"and had just a second let out a shriek of alarm," Are you not missing a word or something here?
"forging through the loose stones like a ship through water" Is forging the right word to use here? Because I see it as a whole other thing, but then again, I am also from Denmark.
"much supplies to gather and caps to spend" Is much the right word to use here? And especially so close to the one in the sentence before this one. Many would properly work instead.
"A secret compound of the Ministry of Arcane Science" You used Ministry of Magic before, I would say use only one of its two names.
"Cog set Rusty down and stretched" You have a tense mistake here.
"he raved" You are missing some sort of sign in the end of this sentence.
"Um…are we’s going in?" You are missing a space after the ellipsis
"some the size of small houses" Did you really mean houses? Because that is maybe a bit to big for a cable just laying in the wasteland. Even when we talk about MoA.
"He magicked a brush from within his saddlebags and began grooming frantically." You have an double space in the start of this sentence
"the colour of fine port." Do you mean like the wine? None the less do I think it could be clearer what you are going after here
"Zapper recognised it as a household cleaning robot from before the wars" Should wars not be singular, even if it was a longer one was there after all only one
"This he plugged into a port on the salvaged Pip-Buck." Had he not brought it? Or are you telling the whole story about how he got it here instead of before?

[Zedrei]

2616550

I shall ruthlessly pick the nits. And you are right about the character issue. This is the first great literary undertaking I have attempted with ponies, and I am desperate to make them as believable, as real, as possible. I'm currently reading all sorts of other fics, FE related and others, to gain some insight into how to build developed and interesting people. And I knew of the perk/experience system, but it was only recently I learned it was common practice among Fallout Equestria fics. I might add some perks for the main character. I suppose they are similar to the ones in Fallout?

Your encouragement is greatly appreciated. It's like getting homework that I actually like