Chapter 1
Fallout Equestria: How the Hand is Dealt
Chapter 1
‘Just because you say so, doesn’t mean I have to listen.’
There are some of us who remember what came before. There are those who remember the days before the world was bathed in balefire. I am not one of them, and to be perfectly honest I am perfectly fine with it. For I feel that if I were to remember what came before, it would shape my vision for how the world is supposed to be, and that is something I am not willing to let happen. We were weak before the bombs fell. Weak, impure, cowardly, and anyone who argues otherwise is a damned fool.
What I do know is this: the past doesn’t matter. My focus is on the present, and how I plan to make the future. In the Equestrian Southwest, strength is a necessity. The weak perish, the strong survive, and that is the simple fact of the matter.
Well… I’m not dead. That’s more then I can say for the other prisoners.
Being in prison isn’t the worst thing to happen to me as one of the superior breed. No, that would have to be when the Goddess died. Betrayed by the foul mouthed Destroyer… oh, but I shall have my revenge soon enough… but for now, I must focus on the matter at hoof.
Escaping from the NCR’s inescapable prison.
…
What’s ironic about the wasteland is how the world of old just keeps trying to hold on, clinging by a single thread of string to existence. The Mareitts Correctional Facility was no different. The New Canterlot Republic would be quite the fool to simply abandon the place to become a new hive to a band of scum and villainy that makes its way into the area, and after sinking the staggering amount of Sparkle Cola bottle caps they have into it, they most certainly expect something out of it. Before the bale fire bombs fell, this prison had been used by the Ministry of Arcane Science to mine Gemstones out of the nearby Macintosh Hills for use in the research and development of technology. As such, we the prisoners are expected to do the same.
I am not the only alicorn held in this place. NCR’s mistake, really, trying to cram as many of us that won’t play the little game in here, and expecting it to go over well. Not all of us are willing to stand back and let the companion of the destroyer lord over us. Certainly not I, 21, the chosen one of the Goddess!
‘You’re fuming again, bitch,’ growled a low pitched voice from the bunk across from me.
‘I have a name,’ I replied simply.
‘Yeah yeah, whatever, numeral two, numeral one, 21, never spelled out. You’ve only told me a thousand fucking times,’ the voice returned, spiked with venom.
‘And, it appears, to have paid off, since you seem to remember it,’ I replied, not allowing the tone of the scum lying across from me to get under my skin.
The filth that was Harpy Cagewing, or as he preferred to be called ‘The Crow’, was assigned to be my cell mate, he was a particularly smelly gryphon, a half lion, half eagle, and all stupid individual whom I suspect that the guards who assigned him to this cell had done so for the sole purpose of tormenting me. I had not been allowed writing materials, so it turned out that my only possible activity in this cell was to watch as the gryphon ran his talons though his greasy jet black mane, and preen a stray royal purple feather, not dissimilar to my own coat, that had come lose in his wing.
I hated the Crow, and he hated me. Still, he would have a part to play in my eventual escape from this facility. Whether he wanted to or not.
The door to the cell buzzed, and slid open. It was time to work once again. I let out a quiet sigh as I slipped off my bunk and walked quietly along the hall. The Crow fell in behind me and we trotted through the bleak stone halls of the prison facility and over to the mine lifts, the two mine foremen stood by the doors to the lift, handing us each a pickaxe as we passed.
Manual labour is beneath me. I am one of the elite of the Goddess, the superior life form of the wasteland. My kind is the best adapted to the harshness of the wasteland. We are strong, and we are intelligent. The NCR knows this, and any alicorns who don’t throw in with the Followers of the Apocalypse share a fate similar to my own.
I am one of the more fortunate ones of my race. After the fall of the Goddess we each inherited something of the gestalt consciousness. I inherited a more complete personality than most. I have all my faculties, and the greatest intelligence the wasteland has seen since the Goddess herself. To say I was chosen to be the Goddess’ successor would not be incorrect. Nay, the Goddess did not delegate anything to me, per say, there was no declaration made by her in the final moments that declared I, 21, the new leader of the alicorn race, but she did not need to. With my intellect, how could I not be?
The problem with the lack of a formal declaration has been the scattering of my race. We were ordered by the Goddess to flee Maripony Military Base in the final moments of her life. There was not time to name a successor. Which is why we are in the situation we are now. Most of us have gone out on our own, or in small groups with survival the top priority. Others fell in with the Followers of the Apocalypse, the true sheep who looked outside for leadership, and they went no further then the Companion of the Destroyer. The one they call Velvet Remedy.
The race traitors believe her to be innocent, but that is hardly the case. This Velvet Remedy is guilty of many crimes against the alicorn people by association with the Destroyer, and the Steel Ranger 'alicorn Hunter'.
One might call me a dweller on these matters. I'm not inclined to disagree. My rage takes my mind off the endless work. I like to imagine the rock I look at now is the Destroyer, and I am bringing my pickaxe down on her head. It makes the work more efficient. The guards see no reason to complain. Generally speaking, they leave me alone as I work, out of a correct fear that I might do something to them, something nasty, and well deserved.
I glanced over to the left. The Crow swung his own pickaxe with just as much anger and strength. I didn't know his story, nor did I particularly care. The dumb muscle however would soon have his day.
Looking around the poorly lit and damp cavern wouldn't get you far. The own light from my horn was brighter then the lamps brought by the guards and provided a somewhat decent view for those working around me. Most of them were frail and sickly looking, not surprising given the conditions we were forced to live in. I found it hard to believe that these ponies were dangerous and violent criminals at any point in their lives. Maybe they were... maybe they weren't. Perhaps they were political prisoners, just as I was. My only crime in the NCR's view was being an alicorn, an alicorn free and in charge of her own destiny. They say that makes me a danger... well, I suppose that's not incorrect.
One of the ponies caught my eye. This one was different than the others. He was a well built earth pony stallion, grey coat, rusty red mane, his green eyes shone brightly in the light from my horn; he blinked and turned to look at me. 'Oi! You wanna take care to not shine that bloody light right in my eyes?' he asked, before dropping his own pickaxe that he'd been holding in his teeth and shielding his eyes with his foreleg.
I raised my head slightly, pointing the light away from him. He lowered his foreleg to the ground and blinked a couple of times. 'Thanks...' he said before going to pick his pickaxe back up.
'You don't belong here,' I stated plainly.
The earth pony gave out a sigh and rolled his eyes. 'Figure that one out on yourself eh? Good on ya Sheila, now can I get back to work?' he asked in his oddly accented voice. I didn't recognise it. Ordinary I wouldn't have cared, but considering the situation I found myself in, I needed to do everything that I could to get out of here. I wouldn't be able to do it myself, and anyone or thing useful could be invaluable.
'Where are you from?' I asked curiosity in my voice.
'Ah... fuckin' hell...' he said with another, louder, sigh. 'Fetlock,' he said simply.
I let out a scoff, was he trying to play me for a fool? His accent was an odd one, but it was not the speech of anyone from the Manehattan area as he was claiming. Fetlock was a suburb in the adjacent area to the famous big apple, very far from here.
'I wasn't born yesterday, you know...' I said with annoyance in my voice.
'Yeah yeah, everyone says the same bloody thing. “Oh, Raygun... you don't sound like you're from Manehattan...” yeah well come off it. I am. Me dad wasn't, no clue where he came from, but I know you bloody don't give a damn about that, alicorn,' the pony said.
So his name was Raygun? Interesting, I had to wonder how he possibly could have gotten that name. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where his certain skill sets might lie, but fortunately for me, I am indeed a genius. He was right at least, that I did not care about his life story. This little mud pony was a tool to be used in my escape. Maybe I'd even keep him around if he could prove more useful.
'So, Raygun is it?' I asked with a sort of false sweetness in my voice.
'Yeah, you going to stop bothering me now?' Raygun asked rolling his eyes.
'Oh but I'm having so much fun getting to know you,' I replied back with so much obvious sarcasm in my voice, anymore and the room around us might have exploded.
'If I still had my weapons....' He began with a growl.
'I'd take them from you and shoot you dead,' I replied. 'You can trust me on that.'
I could tell I was rubbing him the wrong way, perhaps I just couldn't help myself, but I realised that if I wanted him to do anything to help me, this wasn't the way to do it. 'Eh... look, I'm sorry, the stress of this place gets to me,' I said, almost gagging on my forced apology.
'Whatever...' Raygun said rolling his eyes again. 'I'm not going to be around this place much longer anyway...'
That statement had piqued my interest. I had been here for several weeks closely analysing the prison for any weak points. This stupid mud pony was one I had never seen before, meaning, that he'd not been here for very long. How the hell was he going to manage escaping from this place?
'What do you mean?' I asked slowly, eyeing the mud pony with suspicion.
'Oh wouldn't you just love to know, huh sheila?' He asked with a smug grin.
Oh, so that was how he wanted to play it? Fine, perhaps a play to his ego might loosen his lips.
'As a matter of fact, I would. I've been here for quite some time now, and it certainly takes a particularly intelligent and cunning pony to come up with a fool proof escape plan,' I said, laying on the false praise.
'Heh, well you got that right,' Raygun said. 'Fine, you want to know, alicorn? I got friends that are deeply rooted in the area, more so then NCR, they're going to cause some ruckus out front, then, I'm going to grab all my confiscated gear and walk right out.'
I'll admit that I was somewhat disappointed with the lack of cunning in Raygun's escape plan. Still, sometimes the brute force method works, and if Raygun's 'friends' are on the level, then I might be able to use their 'ruckus' to my own advantage.
'And who might these friends be?' I asked.
'And spoil the surprise? I don't think so sheila. Sorry but you can't butter me up that well,' he said with a grin. It appears that I had not actually stroked his ego at all, but instead saw through it and turned it around back on me. Damn him. 'Tell you what, if you're good to me, and don't give me no hard times, I might just let ya come with me. My friends and I got a place where we could lay low from NCR for a while...' Raygun added.
I had to admit; my plan would have involved getting out and then finding a place to go to for the interim, somewhere that NCR authority doesn't stretch to. Though, in this day and age, and in this part of the wasteland, that area gets smaller and smaller every day.
'Are you proposing a partnership?' I asked.
'Maybe I am... You're an alicorn, look to be a right cross one too, figure you might have some use... maybe as dumb muscle...' He said with a chastising grin. The nerve of him!
Raygun was trying to play me, I could tell, but that wasn't important. As smart as he thinks he is, I'm smarter, and I know how to play the games he plays.
Most importantly, I know how to win.