> Fallout Equestria: Roadside Stories
>  by Kervin
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Paths We Take
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Fallout: Equestria - Roadside Stories




Chapter One: The Paths We Take


"Not sure where I’m going. But I hope it’s towards you."




Stories.

A good story is like a good meal, precious and warm. When you consume it, you are utterly engrossed in it. You keep finding these little things that you so very much like about it. Little flavors here and there, the right word in the right place.

On the other hand, a bad story is like a terrible meal, which - considering we all live in the Wasteland - I’ll assume you’ve had plenty of. It leaves a bad taste in the mouth and a terrible agony in the mind. It does not leave room to contemplate, nor does it leave room for a message. It does not taste good in the slightest, but you just might need it to survive. Stories are what binds us, connects us, and - ultimately - they are what keep us going even in the dead of the cold, dark night.

Every pony that has ever lived has heard a story. Every dragon and zebra and griffon has, as well.

When you’ve been to the places I’ve been to, and you’ve traveled the roads that I have, you hear a lot of stories. Many of them are good, but most of them are bad. Some are well known, like the tale of the Stable Dweller and her entourage. Most - the vast majority of the good tales - are not.

But once in a blue moon, when fate’s being kind to you, perhaps you might stumble into a story yourself. And if fate’s really being kind, then that might be a good story.

Let me tell you one such story, my little ponies.

It is the story of loss, dread, regret, guilt, suffering, and tragedy. Yet, at the same time, it is also a story of hope borne from all of those negative feelings. At the same time, it is a story of kindness, of loyalty, of honesty, of generosity, of laughter, and of friendship. At the same time… it is a story you have heard before and will hear countless times in the future.

At the same time, this story is, was, and will be you.

Are you ready, my little ponies?

It happened years ago, but I still remember it like the back of my hoof...


*** *** ***

“Dammit!”

I was pinned down, bullets chipping away at the concrete piece of rubble that I had so perniciously managed to hide behind. Checking my gun for ammo, I realized that I only had a few bullets left in the revolver. Four, to be exact.

The revolver - incidentally, a store-bought one that I’d gotten at New Pegas, so it wasn’t some shite pistol that I just looted off a bandit, no siree - was being held in the grip of my teeth. I was surprised with the clarity of my voice despite the trigger obstructing my mouth. Though, the only thing that my voice was really useful for right now was cursing.

At a break in the action, I heard my attackers reloading their weapons. I dared a peak to see just exactly what sort of trouble I’d managed to arouse from the dangerous underbelly of the world known as the Equestrian Wasteland. Raiders, three of them.

Oh, that was wonderful.

The three of them were packing heat. The one in the middle, in particular - a rose-colored unicorn mare with blue eyes  - was floating an assault rifle in front of her with her magic. The bright blue color surrounding the gun illuminated her in the darkness. She was flanked by two earth ponies, both holding pistols in their mouths.

Now, I don’t know about you, but normally, I don’t like to tangle with raiders very often. In a Wasteland filled with monsters, these are the lowest and most rabid form of sickos that you can find. Rapists, murderers, cannibals. They’re just such a lovely bunch.

They wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t so dangerous, I thought to myself sarcastically.

I grunted (which was more difficult than you’d think, having to hold on to a gun in your mouth; in fact, it almost slipped out of my teeth), before I took advantage of their current state of reloading. I ducked out of my cover, attempting to aim at the unicorn in the middle, who I had deemed was the largest threat at the time. I fired off two shots.

I missed the unicorn! However, fate was kind enough that at least one of the bullets had dug itself into one of her fellow raiders, hitting him in the neck, and splaying his vocal cords on his comrades. The stallion fell to the ground, grasping at his neck with his forehooves, but his eyes rolled back into his head quickly as he perished. Blood now covered the remaining two raiders and they resumed firing at me, the looks in their eyes becoming even more violent than they were before.

I retreated back into cover, my heart pounding. I let out a breath in relief that I had not been shot, but as I surveyed the situation, I soon came to the realization that I was in no better shape than I was before. If I had managed to get at the unicorn, then I would have eliminated the fully-automatic volley of bullets that was the cause of my consternation.

I looked around for something, anything. Unfortunately, fate was not being very kind this time. I had been traveling down the road to Junction R-7 for the past few hours, looking to trade with the griffons for more ammo and supplies. Having recently just completed a few odd jobs in New Appleloosa for Ditzy Doo and receiving ample payment, I’d needed a change in scenery, despite both towns effectively being constructed out of scrap metal.

As a side note, I can’t help but mention that it was extremely interesting working with Ditzy (or Derpy, as many call her). She’s quite a popular figure in the Moohave, after all, and she even has a whole damn casino named after her in Slimm. She helped me out quite a lot in my stay at New Appleloosa, actually, and I might even be tempted to call her a friend. Not that I have many of those. Still, it’s nice to know that ponies like Ditzy Doo still exist out in the Wasteland.

On the way to Junction R-7, it had been so very much clearly decided by these three (now two, thanks to me) nice ponies that it would be a grand idea to start shooting at me and looting my corpse. Maybe they were even planning on eating me. After getting spooked for a bit by the sudden ringing of bullets in my ear (I was eternally thankful that raiders are absolutely terrible shots), I rushed myself into the remains of a pre-war house on the side of the road.

I’d wasted an unnecessarily large amount of my revolver’s ammunition in trying to suppress the raiders’ initial volleys of fire, which was a huge part of the reason why I was so low on ammo. The other part mainly revolved around Ditzy Doo’s store simply lacking the ammo caliber that my revolver was chambered for. Hence, Junction R-7. So, mostly, I was stuck in this situation because of my stupidity. Figures.

Anyway, the house was a bust. The roof was missing and the second floor was basically gone, save for portions of the upper floor. If I was unicorn, I might have been able to float some of the wreckage and hurl it at my assailants. Alas, I was an earth pony, so such acts were not in the cards for me. Then again, the cards are hardly ever in my favor. My trips to New Pegas and Dise were proof enough of that. I’m never getting those caps back…

The shooting stopped once again, but instead of the sound of magazines clicking into guns, I heard the sounds of hooves hitting the ground in very quick succession.

They were rushing towards me!

Quickly, I positioned myself so that my rear was facing the hole in the wall. Luckily, this was the only real discernable entrance to the adobe (though it’s not like I really expected raiders to be smart enough to do something other than rush blindly forward). I bucked up my hindlegs in anticipation of their arrival.

The unicorn mare rushed in first, quickly facing me and floating her assault rifle high above her head, illuminating the darkened house with the sickly blue glow of her magic. Unfortunately, she never got her wish of turning me into swiss cheese because I bucked her so hard that she flew across the room and shattering what had once been a coffee table. As I struck her with my back hooves, I could hear the bones in her chest crack. I must have broken a few ribs.

It does pay to be an earth pony at times.

The unicorn mare wasn’t dead yet, but she was definitely out of the fight. I saw her eyes flutter closed and her assault rifle landed on her chest, which did not help any. She was unconscious.

The earth pony stallion rushed in next, but he was surprised enough at the sight of his leader’s unconscious form that I was able to quickly press my revolver right up against his muzzle. In less than a second, the top of his head exploded in gore, splashing blood over the ceiling.

Breathing heavily, I sat down. My brow was sweaty. Incredibly sweaty. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hoof. I was lucky this time. Fighting with raiders usually doesn’t happen this cleanly.

I trotted over to the unicorn mare, briefly glancing at her cutie mark. Two rifles crossed in an X shape. It was strangely peculiar to me at the time. Raiders usually didn’t have cutie marks like that. Perhaps a splash of gore or a skull or something similar. This looked more like the cutie mark of a mercenary or perhaps a bounty hunter.

Looking her over more, I came to the abrupt realization that this was no ordinary raider. For one, she looked relatively well-maintained. Her red coat was dirty, but it was no more so than any other resident of the Wasteland. Her white-blue mane was similarly of the same constitution. Further prodding revealed that her raider barding was more of a costume than an attempt at stopping bullets. This I had deduced from the amounts of armor that she had hidden beneath the raider gear, which was designed to protect her. Hell, even the assault rifle was way better maintained than a raider’s. I think it was actually in better shape than my revolver.

Also, I should probably mention that the unicorn mare was ever so slightly very attractive.

The only logical thing to deduce from this information was that this was probably the leader of the local raiders bands. And such a figure would probably be worth a lot to ponies, especially the traders who had been traveling the path between New Appleloosa and Junction R-7…

The slightest indications of a smile began to creep up on my mouth, still holding my revolver. I placed the revolver back in my pack, before beginning to strip search all of the raiders for any gear. As is normal for raiders, they didn’t have much on them. I grabbed their guns on the off chance that I could use them to repair my revolver if it ever ends up in disrepair. Their “armor” was basically worthless. They only had about 50 or so caps between them, the majority coming from the unicorn mare. I grabbed the assault rifle and slung it over my back - that was certainly going to come in handy - as well as all assorted ammunition.

I took off all of the armor from the mare. Jury-rigging some fasteners from the armored parts of her outfit, I tied both pairs of her legs for the journey to Junction R-7. I could easily carry her on my back the whole way, and with the amount of broken bones I gave her, I seriously doubted her ability to fight back. I was less than an hour away now…


*** *** ***

You may have concluded by this point - as early as it is - that I have no real qualms about killing hostile ponies. This really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, but I’ve been travelling the Wastes for my entire life. Killing was part of the game, and I’d like to think that I was playing the game decently. Killing… was part of life. I’d accepted that a long time ago.

Now, this didn’t mean that I shot through all of my problems. Oh no, it didn’t. I’d gotten into a lot of trouble in the past, and a lot of that trouble came to me as a result of refusing to kill. A hired gun (which I had been plenty of times in the past) that refused to kill ponies was something of a misnomer. I didn’t kill innocent ponies, or even defenseless ones. Raiders, though? They were fair game. No more than radigators, they were.

Junction R-7 was getting busier and busier. I remember when it was simply a Talon encampment for Gawdyna Grimfeathers and her Talon company. Now, every time I’ve been here for the past few months, it seems like more and more people have decided to take up living there. It definitely wasn’t because of Gawdyna who, goodness knows, isn’t exactly the most welcoming of griffons. Still, things have been shaping up in this region ever since Deadeyes got himself killed.

Junction R-7 was an old railway station. Griffons and ponies milled around in the center, with train cars being used as makeshift homes. Coming into the left, I saw a contingent of griffons in the sky. They landed in the center of town, laughing, obviously having just completed a mission. They headed to Gawd’s office to collect their reward.

Gawd’s office was where I was heading, too. The raider mare on my back had stayed unconscious for the better part of an hour, so I assumed she’d be unconscious for quite a bit more time. My pounding of her chest didn’t exactly give her heart much room to breathe, but I seriously doubted that it was fatal.

Entering Gawd’s office, I was greeted by bumping into the griffons that had entered previously. Their expressions had soured and they did nothing but scowl at me as they shuffled out of the boxcar. I raised an eyebrow at this, suspecting that something had gone to shite following their meeting with Gawd.

Gawd herself was looking pretty soured, but she looked pretty much the same as usual. Her energy shotgun was in her holster and a large, jagged scar ran its way up her left eye (or what was her left eye). She was hunched over her computer terminal, her face in her talons. The light of the terminal cast a sickly green glow on Gawd’s face, which seemed strangely appropriate for the current situation.

I trotted up closer, before clearing my throat. 

“Evening, Gawd.”

She looked up, before rolling her eyes. “Roadside,” she said, saying my name out loud as I had said hers. She looked at the pony splayed across my back before smirking. “You finally fell off the wagon?”

I smirked in return. “Nope, but I did manage to secure one highly curious unicorn raider.” I layed her down on the floor, where she moaned unconsciously. “I fought her and some raiders on the way here. Better armor than most raiders and a really good assault rifle. I figured she was probably the leader of one of the local raider bands and would fetch a nice price.”

Gawd looked her over, her eyes narrowing. “I recognize her.”

That didn’t surprise me. “Mind sharing the details?”

She didn’t face me, but kept looking at the unicorn mare. “She was one of the raiders stationed at Shattered Hoof before my Talons took over it. A number of them managed to escape before we took them under our wing. She was one of Deadeyes’ lieutenants.”

I crossed my forelegs. “So, she was one of the ones that escaped? Probably formed her own band of raiders and everything.”

“Seems so,” Gawd said, before smirking at me. “I’d heard rumors very recently of a new group of raiders attacking caravans heading out of New Appleloosa. I’d bet caps that she’s a part of it, if not the leader, as you said.” She looked at me. “Someone actually contracted us to eliminate them.”

A smile crept up to my face. “Really?”

Gawd rolled her eyes, before reaching into a pouch on her armor. She threw me a smaller pouch filled with bottle caps. “There’s the reward. You earned your keep fair and square, Roadside. But no more than that. Be lucky that I’m extending this courtesy to you; you’re not even one of my Talons.”

I chuckled, before throwing the pouch into my saddlebags. “Much obliged, Gawd.” I knew how she hated being in debt. My eyes wandered down to the unicorn mare. “What are you going to do with her?”

“Rehabilitation,” she said simply. “If she refuses to join up with us and would rather prefer to prey on innocent ponies… well, you know what we do to the honorless.”

I grunted, remembering the first time I’d encountered Gawd and her Talons. It wasn’t the prettiest sight in the world. “Right,” I replied. “The fear of Gawd.”

Gawd smiled crookedly at me. “But hopefully it won’t come to that.”

I spent the rest of my stay in Gawd’s office telling her about my encounter with the raiders, detailing how I’d managed to take the three of them out. Gawd, for her part, told me about the recent adventure she had with helping the Stable Dweller reclaim her Stable near Ponyville. Something about Steel Rangers.

After that little back-and-forth, I bid farewell to Gawd.


*** *** ***




My next stop was the Junction R-7 goods dealer. The unicorn mare had fetched a nice enough price and I had more than enough bottle caps to buy plenty of ammo for my newly acquired assault rifle and my revolver. The shopkeeper, a griffon by the name of Maroney, was a nice enough fellow. His feathers had grayed and he had more than a couple of wrinkles around the eyes, but he was still intimidating enough that you knew he could shred you with his talons if he really wanted to.

“I haven’t seen a revolver model like that before,” he commented as I slipped five new shiny (well, not exactly shiny) bullets into my gun. “Where’d you get that thing, Hoofington?”

“Nah,” I said, making a mental note to travel to Hoofington at some point. “New Pegas.”

New Pegas… a city out in the Moohave. Gambling, crime, and corruption galore. Everything from splintered factions and the mysterious loss of money from my pockets. There were times when I was in that city that I couldn’t tell if I was in Dise or not. Tenpony Tower, New Pegas was not.

My reply was cause enough for the griffon to chuckle. “Figures. Lotsa cowbucks down in those parts.”

“You ever been there?” I asked.

“Once,” he said, looking up at the ever-cloudy sky in wistfulness. “I lost all my caps, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t mention that it was the most fun that I’d ever had.” He smiled crookedly, similar to how Gawd had smiled at me earlier. Griffons tended to do that. It was probably because of the beak.

I smiled back. “Sounds familiar.” I had indeed lost a lot of my caps in New Pegas (and Dise, too). Remind me to tell you that story at some point; it was fun, even if it was life-threatening.

He looked around at his ammo stock, seeing that he still had plenty of ammo for my revolver. “Not a lot of guns use the same caliber as your revolver there. I’ve had those bullets in stock for a long time.”

Hmm. I looked the revolver over. I knew there was something different about the gun. It was a mostly sleek silver, with a black matte handle. The muzzle of the gun was elongated, which I suspected increased its accuracy. My purchase of the gun had been relatively recent, no more than a month or so prior. I’d bought the gun after a stint went bad in New Pegas (mostly because I needed somewhere to dump the… not exactly legally acquired money I’d received, and I figured a really expensive gun would do the trick) and I hightailed it to New Appleloosa as fast as I could which, considering the geographic difference, took weeks worth of jumping from trade caravan to trade caravan working as a guard. That was how I’d met up Ditzy Doo.

I’d only ever used the gun a couple of times in the past. Most of them were with dealing with the various kinds of monstrosities that the Equestrian Wasteland decided to throw at me. It was only some of the time that I had decided to shoot ponies with it. I figured that I’d killed less than five ponies with the thing, if that. The gun was good, I’d give it that. Most of the things I’d killed with it were with one shot. So, even though I was terrible at aiming these things with my mouth, I could rest easy that anything that I hit was down permanently.

“You should give it a name.”

“Hmm?” I looked up at Maroney in confusion.

“A name,” he repeated, a smile present on his beaked face. “I’ve seen a lot of guns in my time, kid. If there’s one thing I learned from all that time of selling and buying guns, it’s that people have a tendency to get attached.”

“A name, huh?” I started to smile, too, as I looked at the revolver. “Yeah, I think it does need a name, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll leave the details up to you, kid,” he said, guffawing.

“So, can I interest you in some mines?”

After confirming that I was, indeed, not interested in purchasing any mines, I bought some health potions along with some more basic supplies.

I trotted over to the local tavern/inn (contained in a double-decker train car), which was bustling with ponies and griffons. Groups formed around tables and Gawd’s Talons were talking about their recent contracts and which one of them had managed to kill who and what. I went over to the bar and took a seat.

The bartender unicorn approached me. “What’ll it be?” he asked.

“Sparkle-Cola.”

He nodded before floating over a 200 year old bottle of the best-tasting irradiated poison in the whole of the Equestrian Wasteland. I know there’s some contention about whether Sunrise Sarsaparilla was better, but to me, there was no such thing as contention. I tossed him a couple of caps before I popped the bottle open. I started devouring the cola greedily. I was dog-tired by this point, not just from the raider attack but from the hours-long journey I had to endure to get there.

Before I could enjoy my drink any further, the tavern doors opened. No one cared enough to look at who showed up, but I did. My eyes drifted over to the doors lazily. An earth pony slipped inside; a big, strong one. His coat was a dull grey and his mane was cut short in a sort of buzzcut. His eyes seemed to glow red, which certainly didn’t detract from his intimidating appearance. 

He was an older pony, too, probably middle-aged. I think I had seen this pony around here before, though I don’t believe that he was one of Gawd’s ponies. He wore a battle saddle that obscured his cutie mark, with twin rifles on both sides of his figure.

He trotted over to the bar, close to me. For a second, I thought the chair that he sat upon might buckle under him, being a huge mass of muscle that he was. He ordered a Sparkle-Cola, same as me. At some point, he might have caught me looking at him, because he turned his head to face me.

“You starin’ at me for a reason, son?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, no?” I said. There’s me being stupid again. “I mean, no, not really.”

“Good,” he said. “Don’t give me a reason to skewer your ass.”

I gulped, not doubting his capability to do just that in the slightest. I could see the unicorn at the counter rolling his eyes, before floating over a Sparkle-Cola for the earth pony. “Give Roadside a break, Kerosene.”

His name was Kerosene? I’d heard worse, but that name just conjured up images of him burning me to death while maintaining that strangely pervasive solemn look in his eyes.

Kerosene grunted, before facing away from me, back at the counter. I looked at the bartender in confusion. He returned my look with sympathy. “Kerosene’s a bit of a hardass,” he told me. “You get used to him, though.”

A bit? I thought to myself. Sure. A bit.

“Who is he, anyway?” I asked him, whispering.

“Mercenary. Has kind of a strained relationship with Gawd. Rumor has it that he used to be part of the Talons, but that was a long time ago. Right now, he’s running his own mercenary company. I think they’re looking for new recruits.”

“Are him and his company trustworthy?”

He shrugged. “Gawd seems to trust them. And Gawd’s trust doesn’t come easily.”

I didn’t spend any more time at the bar and I told the bartender that I wanted to stay the night. After paying him the requisite amount of caps, I trotted upstairs and entered the room. By upstairs, of course, I meant the second level of the train car, which had been converted into the local inn for stopperbys. After unloading all my gear, I plopped down on the bed, exhausted from the day’s escapades.

Pulling out the revolver from my pack with my teeth, I placed it in my hooves. Looking at it, I was having a hard time thinking of a name. Damn you, Maroney, I thought. You’re going to keep me up all night with this, aren’t you?

I was actually wrong that time, because at some point, I managed to drift away to sleep.


*** *** ***

“Your name is Roadside, right?”

“Yes, my name’s Roadside.”

“Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Good. Because I want you to join my mercenary company.”

I almost coughed out the iguana sticks I was eating for breakfast. I stared at Kerosene, not believing what my ears were hearing.

“What?” I managed to get out.

Kerosene - who still had that extremely serious expression on his face (which looked comical at that moment, to me) - looked at me expectantly. “I talked to Gawd last night. She told me that you know how to hold your own in a fight.”

“Well, yeah,” I answered. “We live in the Celestia-damned Equestrian Wasteland. Of course, I know how to handle myself in a fight. But I’m nothing special!”

“Yet, you took three relatively well-equipped raiders on by yourself with only one gun and managed to take the leader alive. With broken ribs, from what I saw. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve done this sort of thing before. Repeatedly.”

“Yes, but…” Oh boy, did this situation feel ever so familiar. People trying to get me to join their little clubs was never a good thing. That was how I’d gotten in so much trouble in Pegas. I cursed Gawd silently for putting me in this position. “Look, I’m not interested.”

I saw Kerosene furrowing his brow. He was obviously not used to ponies denying his requests. “You’ll get paid a lot.”

“Okay, bu-” I stopped myself. I knew I’d regret it, but I stopped myself. “... how much?”

He told me how much.

It was a lot.

I gulped, knowing that I would never live this down. “How many are in your company?”

The slightest hint of a smile began to creep up on Kerosene’s face, and I knew that he knew that he had won this verbal battle. “Twelve. With you, it would be thirteen.”

Lucky thirteen, I thought. The caps were really tempting and it wasn’t like there was a large amount of work being offered to me right now. I could start doing some hired gun work for Gawd, but I knew that I’d be doing the same thing for much less pay. Though, for just a second, I wondered where exactly he was getting all of these caps.

I expressed my concern to him. “So, who’s paying you that you can afford to give me a salary like that?”

“Some rich folk up in Tenpony Tower. I don’t ask for details, kid, especially if the money’s good.”

Tenpony Tower. Okay, I could buy that.

I sighed, before extending my hoof. A smile now present on Kerosene’s face, he shook my hoof vigorously. I thought he’d sprain my foreleg.

It was a short time later that I was walking next to Kerosene around the “streets” of Junction R-7, which were really just pathways carved between the makeshift train car homes.

“What’s the job, anyway?” I asked.

“Security,” he said. “Somepony from Tenpony wants us to guard her caravan. We’re supposed to escort her to her location.”

Okay. Sounded simple enough. “Where’s she going?”

Kerosene nickered. “Don’t know, and I don’t care enough to know. The money’s good enough that I shouldn’t care. And she’s already paid us half of it.”

“If you say so.”

I had a bad feeling about this contract. But caps were caps, and you weren’t always liable to find them. Especially if you spent a lot of time in casinos, as I had so foolishly done before.

“Come on,” Kerosene said. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the company.”

Footnote: Level Up
New Perk: Rapid Learner -- +10% XP whenever XP is earned

> The One in the Middle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Fallout: Equestria - Roadside Stories




Chapter Two: The One in the Middle


"Honey, I brought you into this world, I think you know the rest..."


Thirteen.

That was how many of us there were in Kerosene’s company. All ponies. Mostly earth ponies, but a couple of unicorns were there, too. They were a hearty bunch, but Kerosene apparently forgot to mention that it was a family business. His wife and his daughter - both earth ponies, as well - worked with him, too, and very closely, I might add. His daughter, Lightway, especially.

She always seemed to be helping him out and she was always eager to do it. Incredibly eager. But she couldn’t be farther from her father in personality. She was optimistic, still, but I didn’t believe for a second that she was naive. No, naivete didn’t exist very often in the Wasteland. And I highly doubted that Kerosene would have let her daughter become one of the ponies that were naive.

Lightway was only slightly younger than me, so I suspected that Kerosene had her when he was pretty young. Her coat was charcoal black with a splash-green mane that seemed to glow like it was radioactive. On her flank rested a picture of a grenade without its pin, something that made me shudder. It was just one sign of her way of life, one that she hid very well behind her positive attitude.

His wife - who told me to call her Racer; I never did learn her full name - was an older mare, about the same age as Kerosene. She looked just like her daughter, except for her blue mane and that her cutie mark was of a less intimidating (but still very threatening) cache of bullets. She was more like Kerosene; hardened by the Wasteland, but more forgiving, I think. Kinder.

They were an interesting family.

When he introduced me, I could feel the appreciation that Kerosene held for them. A little nudge here, the way his muscles seemed to relax around them. That sort of thing. I could tell that these were ponies that Kerosene loved, and loved him back equally. But more importantly, Kerosene trusted them.

And trust wasn’t easy to find in the Wasteland, after all.

Neither was family.

See, I never knew my parents. Hell, I don’t even know what happened to them. I just became conscious one day; down in the dumps right outside of some settlement. No one raised me. One day, I wasn’t even born yet. And the next, I was running away from raiders and learning to fend for myself.

It wasn’t uncommon out in the Wasteland. I was hardly alone in my predicament. Still… seeing Kerosene, as much of a hardass as he was, smiling and standing together with his family stirred something in me. It wasn’t jealousy. Far from it. It was something warm.

Happiness? Maybe.

It’s not often that I get philosophical about this sort of thing, especially while wandering out in the Wastes. I didn’t really have time for that sort of thing. Too busy keeping myself alive. But it was interesting to contemplate. Very interesting.

It also wasn’t very often that I was even in the presence of other ponies for very long. That just wasn’t me. I’d spent most of my life by myself, and lot of it on the run. Taking odd jobs and looting dead ponies was my entire life. I didn’t have any friends, except for maybe Ditzy Doo. But Ditzy Doo was friends with everypony.

I told myself that the money was why I took the job. But after seeing Kerosene and his family, I might have stayed for a different reason…

You know, aside from the bundle of caps that Kerosene had given me prior to starting the expedition.


*** *** ***


The journey to Tenpony Tower took several days. We were taking a longer route than the one I usually took; mostly for practical purposes. The client wasn’t expecting us to be there for a few days and the safer trading route ended up being better for our purposes. I took that time to try to get to know the other ponies in Kerosene’s entourage. Celestia knows that I’d rather have ponies I knew could handle a gun than some fresh greenhorns who just joined up for the hell of it.

As far as I could tell, Kerosene was extremely wise when he chose who got to be a part of his mercenary company. The other ten ponies seemed battle hardened, threatening, even. Ponies in a full getup of battle saddles and armored plating. Well, I say other ten, but I really mean other nine.

There was one pony in particular that didn’t fit the mold I’d seen with the rest of the ponies. A stable dweller (not the Stable Dweller, of course) by the name of Foolscap. It was a funny name, I had to admit, though I pulled myself back before I could chide her for it. 

Her coat was white, with a very subtle tone of copper. Her yellow mane was short, and matched brightly with her equally yellow eyes. She wore the jumpsuit typical of a stable dweller, with a big, yellow imprint of “132” on the back. She had a large terminal-like device on her left foreleg, a PipBuck 3000. It was interesting to see her; it wasn’t all that often that you see a former stable dweller face-to-face.

We walked along the highway, the thirteen of us striking an imposing force as we went along. I didn’t doubt for a second that any raiders that were stupid enough to attack us were going to be swiss cheese before any of them got near us.

I trotted next to Foolscap, striking up a conversation with the mare. I was intrigued enough by her that I decided that learning a bit more about her couldn’t hurt. “So,” I began. “How’d a stable dweller like you end up out here?”

The stable mare next to me nickered, facing me. “Exile.”

Ah. I’d heard stories before of stable dwellers ending up in exile. It seemed a strangely common occurrence for ponies who stayed inside the safety of the Stables. You’d think they’d want to spend their lives in relative comfort, but apparently the Wasteland just keeps calling them out here.

“Exile, eh?” I replied. “Do you mind sharing your story?”

“Not much to tell,” she said, looking down at the ground at her hooves clopping along the concrete road. “Stable One-Thirty-Two was a safe place. Clean. Wonderful. It’s just a shame that getting kicked out is so easy.” She continued looking down at the road, solemn in her expression.

“That so?” I asked.

She nodded. “Stable One-Thirty-Two was a totalitarian masterpiece. It was as if the eyes of Celestia and Luna were always upon us. Sure, we lived in peace and harmony, but that was only because any dissent was quickly shut out. Literally.” She scowled. “Any pony who broke the law was immediately exiled. The Overmare could be a massive pain in the ass, too. She was always breathing down our necks.”

“I see.” I looked Foolscap over. She certainly didn’t seem like a law-breaker, but I got the feeling from the tone of her voice that her exile was more self-imposed than she was letting on. My eyes landed on her cutie mark. A parchment of paper. “What’s your cutie mark stand for?”

Foolscap looked at me, before a small smile entered her face. She chuckled. “It’s a foolscap.”

“Pardon?”

“A foolscap is a type of paper,” she explained. “I’m named after it, and I find that I’m pretty good at writing, so…”

“A writer pony,” I said, a smirk coming on to my face. “How novel.”

Foolscap raised an eyebrow, before she smile widely, recognizing my pun. She extended a hoof. “Roadside, was it?” she asked.

I shook her hoof. “Roadside it is,” I answered. “And I already know you as Foolscap. If you want a quick recap of my life, well I can sum it up in three words. Always fucking running.” I grinned toothily, causing Foolscap to laugh.

“I think we’re going to get along very well, you and I,” Foolscap said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “I think we might.”

What I didn’t say out loud was that I didn’t know if I wanted to get to know the nice unicorn mare. She was pleasant company, for sure, but did I really want to get close to her? I pictured a raider on top of her, shoving a gun down her throat. I shuddered mentally.

That was not something that I wanted to experience. Immediately, I regretted being so nice to Foolscap; I didn’t want to drag myself into a situation that I didn’t want to be in, especially one regarding making friends. Friends were good in tight corners. They were good when you had your back against the wall. But they were dangerous. You get attached. And getting attached was dangerous in the Wasteland.

Warily, I looked over at my revolver in its place in my saddlebag. I remembered what Maroney the griffon had said about it earlier. “If there’s one thing I learned from all that time of selling and buying guns, it’s that people have a tendency to get attached.”

Apparently, that applied to ponies, too.

And I still hadn’t decided on a name.


*** *** ***


I’d had relations in the past. Not romantic, mind you, but I had relations. It was too much of a stretch to ever call any of them friendships. Working with Gawd and staying at Junction R-7 before, I had gotten to know a lot of her Talons. But they were workmates, ponies and griffons that were just sort of there. My relations in New Pegas and Dise were different: contacts, thieves, and the occasional jailer. But none of them were friends.

I was allergic to friends.

I don’t have any sort of excuse for it, either. I’d never had one of those traumatic early life experiences where I saw my family or my close friends gunned down in front of me that led me to shun relations. No, I was just a normal pony living a normal post-apocalyptic life that was smart enough to recognize that making friends was the same as getting you killed. 

I admired ponies like Kerosene who used his family as a way to find happiness in life. I enjoyed seeing that. More power to him. But I couldn’t be like him. I was cowardly when faced with these sorts of things. Afraid. I didn’t want to risk my sanity or, worse, my life for the sake of a friend.

I was clueless back then.


*** *** ***


We made an encampment in an abandoned pre-war home. Kerosene decided it was best to camp indoors so that we didn’t attract any attention. We were thirteen strong, however, and I doubted it would be a problem, but Kerosene was smart. He knew what he was doing.

I sat in front of the home’s fireplace, warming myself. The house was in surprisingly good shape, all things considered. The roof was intact, the furniture was still mostly in place, and it only slightly smelled of radroach droppings.

As I continued to warm myself, I heard the clopping of hooves behind me. Turning my head, I saw Lightway walking slowly towards me, a half-smile on her face.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked.

I smiled back at her, though it was a distant smile. “Sure, go ahead.”

She nodded, “Thanks.” Sitting down next to me, she began warming herself as well.

“So,” she began, initiating a conversation that I didn’t know if I wanted to be a part of or not. “Where are you from, Mr. Roadside?”

“Ah, that’s a bit complicated,” I answered, ignoring how formal she was being. “I’m from a lot of places. I guess I’m from this old mining town about a couple miles east of Manehattan. It was called Shaft.”

“Shaft?” Lightway asked, tilting her head slightly. “I’ve memorized all the trade routes from Fillydelphia to Hoofington. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of Shaft.”

“You wouldn’t. It was destroyed by raiders about fifteen or so years ago. Killed everyone.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

I looked at her, my eyelids drooping slightly. “It’s okay. I was long gone, by then.” I paused, not sure whether to continue or not. After a second, I decided there was no harm in telling the earth pony mare more. “I left the town when I was just eight years old. I got my cutie mark not long after, when I started following a trade caravan to Friendship City.”

“I see.” I could see her eyes moving to my flank. “A road,” she observed. “What’s it mean?”

I looked back at my flank for a moment. My cutie mark was indeed a picture of a road, but there was something on the end of that road. A rising sun. I shook my head. “Honestly, I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve always taken it to mean that I was meant to move from place to place.” I shrugged. “It seems to have worked out fine for me, so far.”

Lightway was quiet for a moment. I took this opportunity to ask her a few things. “So, what’s it like working with your dad?” I asked, poking the hearth to increase the warmth in my hooves.

Lightway smiled genuinely. “His line of work is dangerous. Incredibly, so. It’s death-defying, at times, but I learn to cope with it by helping him. Mother does so, too.”

“You know,” I began, smiling. “You speak a whole lot more eloquently than any other wastelander I’ve seen.”

Lightway giggled, averting her eyes from me slightly. “Father made sure that I didn’t grow up to be stupid. Mother was smart enough to realize that, too. Father taught me how to survive. Mother taught me how to appreciate survival.” I nodded at her.

I looked down at her cutie mark. “A grenade, though?” I asked. “That seems a bit odd for someone with a personality like yours.”

She giggled again. Wow, I could get used to that, I thought. I quickly stamped that thought out, however. There was going to be no benefit to hitting on Kerosene’s daughter. Images of him burning me alive came to mind and I let out an involuntary shudder.

“It’s not a frag grenade,” she explained. “Flashbang. Blinds people. Nonlethal. That’s the important part.”

“Flashbang. Lightway.” I smiled. “Your name’s more appropriate than I thought.”

“So is yours, Mr. Roadside,” she said, winking.

At the time, the conversation had seemed so innocuous. Two ponies of similar ages having a pleasant conversation next to a warm hearth? Yeah, like I was going to turn that down. I may be a survivalist and a believer in that big thing called “Survival of the Fittest,” but even I wasn’t stupid enough to deny a good conversation with an intelligent pony. Unfortunately, that conversation would have dire consequences that I never could have predicted at the time.

Racer approached us. The older mare had a glint in her eye that seemed to make her look younger than she actually was. “Lightway,” she said, smiling to her daughter. “Your father wants to talk to you.”

Lightway nodded, before getting up. She looked at me. “It was nice talking to you,” she said, smiling.

I smiled back. Again. For what must have been the hundredth time during that conversation. “Likewise.”

Lightway trotted away outside the house, where Kerosene and some of the other ponies were guarding the premises. But not before she winked at me for the second time. Oh fuck, I’m going to have weird dreams, now, aren’t I? I cursed myself for this.

What was I thinking? I hated close friends for this very reason. That they’d take over your mind. That they’d be all you could think about and worry about and fight for. Ugh. I swore at the time that these ponies would be the end of me. Why were they being so nice?

I was almost too embroiled in my thoughts to notice Racer looking at me, up and down. But I saw her. Oh great, I thought. Now her mother’s judging me.

“Are you interested in my daughter?”

Well. I told you they were an interesting family. Racer could be as blunt as a hammer, it seemed.

“Uh, what’s the right answer?”

“That depends.”

“Depends?”

“On whether or not you’re a good pony.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If I was a good pony…”

“Then you’d be under my husband and I’s watchful eyes until the day we die.” She held a dark smirk on her face. Damn, this mare was intimidating.

I whinnied, gulping. “And if I weren’t such a good pony?”

The smirk grew larger. “Well, then Kerosene would be one bullet shorter.” She winked as I gulped once more. She began to trot away.

“Good night, wanderer.”

“Um.” It took me a second to answer back. “N-night, ma’am.”

Needless to say, I had a lot of trouble sleeping that night.


*** *** ***


It was daytime when the next interesting thing happened. Noon, I thought, but it was always a little hard to tell with the cloud cover so permanently above us. I was trotting near the front of the herd, with Kerosene right in front of me.

My job at that moment - aside from walking - had been point lookout. Basically, I was to watch out for raiders and call out if or when I saw some. This task was easier said than done, but that was mostly due to my binoculars not exactly being in the best shape.

My vigilance was interrupted by the arrival of a Sprite-Bot, accompanied by its usual reverie of loud music.

It was blaring its music loudly that anypony within a mile could probably hear it. The polka music stopped short, however, when we started to pass by it. I thought it was going to be one of Red Eye’s broadcasts, talking about his usual nonsense. Instead, it halted in front of Kerosene. The entire herd stopped in its tracks.

“Kerosene,” said a static-y voice from the Sprite-Bot.

My eyes widened. There was somepony on the other side of the Sprite-Bot talking to us? And it knew Kerosene? The hell was going on?

“Watcher,” said Kerosene, seriously, narrowing his eyes. “It’s been a long time.”

The Sprite-Bot, or “Watcher,” was silent for a second. “It has,” it finally said. “Too long. I see you’ve got a family now.” Neither Lightway nor Racer said anything.

Kerosene nodded, but said nothing. He looked at the floating robot, the solemn expression on his face again in full force. “You don’t talk to ponies without a good reason, Watcher. What is it?”

“Tenpony Tower is occupied by Red Eye’s forces,” Watcher said. “You do listen to DJ-Pon3, don’t you? You must realize this is probably a trap.”

Oh shit, I thought. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten such an important detail! Tenpony Tower was being threatened by a fucking balefire bomb! How the fuck had I forgotten? Oh shit. Shit! Why the hell was Kerosene walking us into this? And who the hell contracted us?

This must have been a mistake, right?

Behind me, I could hear the murmuring of voices among the company, but none spoke up. Lightway and Racer were particularly quiet.

“I realize that, Watcher,” Kerosene huffed.

What.

I was confused, to say the least.

“Then why are you still going?” Watcher asked, a hint of irritation creeping up in his voice. “There aren’t enough good ponies out in the Wastes, Kerosene. Don’t be just another dead hero.”

Kerosene stiffened ever so slightly, but he held his ground. “I know what I’m doing.”

If Sprite-Bots had eyes, I would’ve bet that Watcher’s narrowed. “You’re up to something.”

Kerosene kept that expression of seriousness on his face. “Maybe. It’s not any of your business, anyway.”

“I hope you really do know what you’re doing, for your sake,” Watcher said, before pausing. The Sprite-Bot turned ever so slightly to Lightway and Racer. “And for their sake.”

“Goodbye, Kerosene.”

“Goodbye, Watcher.”

And just like that, the loud polka music returned to the Sprite-Bot before it floated away, its wings buzzing. The whole company had suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. The fearless and intimidating ponies I had talked to earlier now looked lost and confused. The Bot was a long way away before anypony had the courage to speak up.

To my surprise, it was Foolscap.

“So… what now?” she asked, crossing her forelegs.

Kerosene looked back at her, before facing the rest of the herd. “We keep going.”

The murmuring continued, but once again Lightway and Racer were silent. They had the same solemn looks in their eyes as Kerosene. It made me wonder whether they knew just how dangerous this mission really was.

“What about Red Eye’s forces?” one of the mercenary stallions piped up.

“And the balefire bomb?” another asked.

“What about them?” Kerosene demanded. “We were hired for a job. And I made it very clear when I hired all of you that I do not abandon those in need. Is. That. Clear?” Kerosene turned around and began trotting down the highway, Lightway and Racer in tow.

No more protests were raised. Grudgingly or not, the rest of the company followed Kerosene once more.



*** *** ***


When I was working for Gawd, one of her mantras had always been that she always completed a contract. Now, this didn’t mean that Gawd was stupid. She didn’t just accept contracts willy-nilly. She accepted contracts that she knew she could do and she knew would be worth something. And she’d helped out others before, even without contracts. Just ask the Stable Dweller.

But she never risked her Talons’ lives unnecessarily.

Kerosene, though?

There was something different about him. He wasn’t just some tough-as-nails merc out to do a job just because it paid well. I knew there was a reason that he wasn’t with the Talons anymore. I had a feeling that he had a tendency to do this sort of thing. To risk his life for something not worth it.

For the first time, I realized that I might have been tricked into joining this company.

I realized that Kerosene had lied to me.

Back at Junction R-7, it really didn’t seem like it. Kerosene had struck me as a brutally honest person. Someone who was as blunt as a hammer, just as I had thought of his wife. But I was wrong. Kerosene had lied to me about this.

I was tricked.

Tricked.

I was more angry about it than I had previously assumed I would be. I had thought the money to be good enough to risk anything, but now I wasn’t sure. Red Eye was an overbearing, near omnipresent force in the Equestrian Wasteland. The risk of getting turned into a slave of his and working in Fillydelphia’s slave pits. I shuddered at the thought.

But I was more surprised by the fact that I was just so upset. I’d been tricked in the past. Plenty of times, actually, and for far worse things. Shot, even. Left for dead. Run off. Escaped. Revenge. All things I’d seen. 

But I was more upset at Kerosene than I ever was at anypony else. And I knew why. It’s because he struck me as a good pony. More so now, after hearing what Watcher had to say about him. I couldn’t believe that Kerosene, with his family, could have deceived me.

His family…

They were in on it, too, weren’t they?

I was upset. Too upset. I knew I had to confront Kerosene about this. And when we made camp that night, I did just that.

I approached him as he took his usual spot at the perimeter of the group, guarding us all solemnly.

“Why?” I asked.

He turned to me. “Why what?”

“Why did you lie to me? To all of us?”

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with a hoof. “Because the more ponies that came, the better.”

I got closer and right in front of him, the upset expression on my face still very plainly visible. “So we can all get ourselves killed?”

He nickered. “No one’s dying.”

Yeah, right. You could shove Red Eye’s hoof up my ass with that.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“No one’s dying because I wasn’t technically lying.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “How could you not be lying?”

“Because the job description was and still is accurate,” he said. “Security for somepony in Tenpony Tower, planning to leave it. I may have lied about the details, but that was just so it didn’t seem personal.”

“Personal?” This was getting even more confusing.

“My sister, Roadside. She lives in Tenpony Tower. I have to get her out.”

Family, I reminded myself. Fucking family.

I sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Lightway said, approaching me. She had a sad look in her eyes. “My aunt’s very precious to my uncle. If there was a way to help her in any way…”

“Enough.” Lightway and Kerosene looked at me. “I get it,” I said. “I’m not saying anything else. Let’s just… get this over with so I can get my caps.” I started trotting back to the campfire.

“Thank you,” I could hear Lightway say, but it was barely a whisper.

Those two words would haunt my dreams for years.

I still didn’t know what was to come next.

I never could have expected it.

Footnote: Level Up
New Perk: Educated -- You gain two more skill points every time you advance in level.

> The Wasteland Heroes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Fallout: Equestria - Roadside Stories




Chapter Three: The Wasteland Heroes


"Calm is what you have to be when people look to you. And it's all you can be when things are out of your hands."


Wonderful.

I had to admit, after my confrontation with Kerosene and Lightway, I drifted back into my old self pretty steadily. My outburst drew no ill will from what I could see and there was no reason that reverting to my previous state would create any.

It helped that neither Kerosene nor Lightway mentioned it, but I spotted Racer shooting me looks. I cringed at the thought, regardless. My outburst was a sign of weakness and it wasn’t something that I wished anypony would see me do again.

Still…

Kerosene was awfully honest with me at the time. I didn’t really know why. I mean, I realize I said that Kerosene was a brutally honest stallion, but he was under no obligation to tell me why I was doing this job. I was getting paid regardless. And I had a feeling I would’ve stuck with Kerosene even if I hadn’t asked him. He was a magnetic one, Kerosene. Despite his brashness.

And Lightway and Racer, too. Those were the other two reasons I decided to stick around.


*** *** ***


Tenpony Tower loomed large over the rest of the Manehattan ruins. It helped that there were no other buildings in the immediate area that was even close in size. An Old World building, it nonetheless looked impressive. I’d seen it before in my travels, of course, but I’d never been inside. The Manehattan ruins did not make for very good company, even if the route to Tenpony was mostly safe.

With that incredibly large enemy encampment in front of it, I didn’t know if I wanted to.

Foolscap approached me at my perched position atop a mound. “Any idea how we’re supposed to get inside?” she asked, her eyes wandering over Red Eye’s army. “Seems like it’d be a bitch to get through that.”

“Well, you won’t have to,” I said, staring out at the huge number of slavers gathered in front of the Pre-War building.

“‘Scuse me?” Foolscap asked.

“Kerosene’s ordered the party to make camp here. He’s going to get his si - er, the pony we’re escorting out.” 

Foolscap raised an eyebrow at me. “And I assume that means you’re not going, either?”

“Well…”

“I knew it.” She rolled her eyes. Damn mares. “Leaving me out in the dust, aren’t you?”

“I- Ugh, fine. Come with, if you want. Just make sure you’re good with a gun.” I facehoofed. This was was going to be very bad, I predicted. A stable dweller with hardly any marshall experience wasn’t going to fit in very well with this plan.

She floated out a small pistol out of her packs. She cocked it. “I can make do with this.” She looked out across the ridge to the army sitting in front of the tower. “I assume we’re not going in for a frontal assault? That’s going to end our quest a little shorter than we anticipated. Our lives, too.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Kerosene told me about a way inside a few nights ago.”

It was a few hours after my little confrontation. Kerosene and Lightway had ushered me away, explained a few more things to me about this whole situation. They felt like I deserved it, after everything that had happened with that Watcher fellow.

Apparently, Kerosene’s sister was from this little group called the “Twilight Society,” named after Twilight Sparkle, one of the Ministry Mares. Arcane Sciences, I think (which makes sense, judging from that sign hanging from the monorail line that pretty clearly said “Ministry of Arcane Sciences Hub”). Anyway, supposedly Kerosene’s sister wanted out of Tenpony Tower because of the balefire bomb. Simple enough, I thought, but there was something else there, too. Kerosene was pretty vague about it, but he mentioned something about needing to get “classified data” out of Tenpony.

I didn’t question what that was supposed to mean. But since these were a bunch of magic scientist ponies, I sort of just assumed that it was pretty important. Apparently, the Society didn’t want to risk losing their progress in the event of a balefire detonation. Hence, our party bailing her out.

Kerosene then had the common courtesy to tell us that we didn’t have to come with him inside of Tenpony. Our group was hired for security and security only, he said.

“Bullshit,” I replied. “And besides, you owe me. I’m going in with you.”

No arguments from Kerosene, though Lightway looked at me with a smile. Dangerous being a pony with at least some moral obligations. And I thought I was only in it for the caps? Silly pony. Of course you were going to go into Tenpony. Why wouldn’t you, after all?

So, Kerosene told me about a sewer system running underneath Tenpony. It was filled with ghouls, though, which kind of sucked. I’d dealt with ghouls in the past, so I didn’t let this fact worry me, but feral ghouls were fast and I’ve seen what happens to a pony when you let it get its teeth close to your jugular. Not a pretty sight.

Still, a way in was a way in.

And I knew that better than most ponies.


*** *** ***


I filled Foolscap in on Kerosene’s plan, including the part where his sister was the one that was in trouble. Foolscap didn’t seem to bothered by this, or even surprised. Seems that as a writer pony, she knew ponies well enough to know when there was a personal motive behind an action. At that moment, Foolscap was asking for some advice.

“Any advice on ghouls?” Foolscap asked as she checked her pistol’s sights. The thing looked pretty new. If I had to guess, it was probably lifted straight from her vault’s armory.

“Aim for the head. With your gun, you don’t have much stopping power, so make your shots count. Automatic weapons don’t have much of that, so if your pistol’s full-auto, switch it to semi. Oh, and don’t try reasoning with feral ghouls. They’re nothing but monsters now.”

She gulped. “Got it.”


*** *** ***


“This was a stupid idea!” Foolscap shouted as she emptied another clip into a feral ghoul, shooting blood-red holes into its skinless hide, dropping it stone dead.

“Juff keepff ffirringf!” I attempted to say despite my revolver being in my mouth. I pulled the trigger with my teeth as I brought down two more of the feral ghouls, blowing their heads clean off.

Foolscap and I backed into each other, our sides pressing into the other’s. We kept firing, Foolscap floating her pistol using her magic while I held onto my revolver using my mouth, something that was still profoundly uncomfortable. Feral ghouls surrounded us on all sides as we stood in irradiated, dirty sewer water.

They roared at us.

But Kerosene roared louder.

His battle saddle blazed with rifle fire, tearing into the feral ghouls surrounding us with a surprising amount of accuracy. Their heads were blown off in an instant, exploding into bloody gore, splattering the walls and tainting the green water with red.

Smoke lifted from the muzzles of Kerosene’s rifles.

Two feral ghouls ran up behind him. I almost shouted a warning, but he didn’t need it. Without even looking, he bucked behind him, catching the two ghouls in their chests with his massive hindlegs. The feral ghouls flew backwards, falling down an old hole blown into the ground and deeper into the sewers.

He kept trotting after that, passing the two of us. “Let’s keep moving,” he said.

Foolscap and I shared a look that said the same thing. This pony was fucking badass. No wonder Gawd had trouble keeping him in line.

We were silent for a bit, though I could faintly hear sounds of DJ-Pon3’s broadcasts coming from Foolscap’s earbloom, obviously listening in on the radio while wandered around, looking for an entrance that was supposed to get us into the tower. How she got a signal down here was anypony’s guess, though I suppose her PipBuck had something to do with it.

“Who’s this Stable Dweller mare?” she asked me.

“Stable Dweller? Some not-evil-good-pony that’s wandering around helping ponies out, I guess.”

“That’s it? This DJ-Pon3 seems to think she’s some kind of Messiah or Lightbringer or something.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. You wander the wastes long enough and you come to the realization that nopony can be that good. There’s probably some bias in that broadcast.”

She paused. “And… what about this Security mare?”

“Her?” I chuckled. “Some crazy mare out in the Hoof making too many enemies to count. Some crazy stuff went down in Hoofington recently, I think. But, as for what the DJ’s saying about her? Pretty much the same stuff I said about the Stable Dweller. Bias.”

Foolscap brought a hoof to her face, pondering in a way only a writer could ponder. 

“If that’s the case, the - Watch out!”

… for the teeth that suddenly drove right into my right foreleg, causing me to scream in pain. The feral ghoul stared up at me, its eyes wide and full of rage. I roared, slamming my left foreleg into its temple, causing it to let go of my foreleg while it was still attached to the rest of me.

Foolscap quickly floated out her pistol and pressed it up against the ghoul’s head, firing. It went down, two bullet holes now present on the opposite end of its head.

Kerosene rushed over to me, taking a look at my injured foreleg while I failed to suppress my whimpering. He was calm. He’s always calm, I managed to think. Foolscap looked a little more panicked.

“A-are you alright?!” she asked, clearly worried. “A-are you going to turn into one of them now?”

I almost laughed, despite the searing pain in my leg. “That’s zombies. Ghouls are… ergh, radiation.” Ugh. I hoped that it sinking its teeth into my leg didn’t mean that I’d suddenly grow fingers out of my hooves or something. Oh Celestia…

Kerosene looked at me. “You’ll live.” He took a needle out of his pack and plunged it into my foreleg. I squealed like a little filly for a second, causing no end to the blush on my face. Suddenly, the pain dulled and I could no longer feel my right foreleg. Which was altogether better than being in pain.

“Good?” he asked.

“Good,” I confirmed. “Thanks for the Med-X. Really appreciate it.”

“When we get inside, I’ll take you to Doctor Helpinghoof when we get inside. He’ll fix that leg.” I nodded at him.

He nodded back at me and continued on his merry way, with us trailing behind, though I had to lift my foreleg the whole time. Which made the rest of the journey pretty hard to stomach, since raising my hoof meant that I was staring into my injured foreleg for the rest of the journey, albeit with the Med-X having stopped the bleeding.

“Is your leg… going to be alright?” Foolscap asked in concern.

I looked down at it, almost feeling sick to my stomach, but I forced myself to swallow and smile reassuringly at the unicorn mare. “Yeah. Just need to… hold my vomit in until we get to the doctor.”

“Shouldn’t you use, you know, a healing potion or something?”

“Nah,” I replied. “Don’t want to waste any supplies.”

“You have very odd standards, Roadside.”

I gave her my best cheeky grin. “Part of the reason why I have so many caps. Well, before that New Pegas incident, anyway. But I’ve been working my way up again.”

“What is this New Pegas thing?” she asked me, her eyebrow raising. “You mention it all the time when we talk.” Oh right. Whoops. I do tend to make reference to New Pegas (and by extension Dise) a lot.

I grimaced at her question. “It’s a weird matter. Look, I got into a lot of trouble in Pegas. A lot of people got hurt. Everyone from the Reapers to Caesar’s Legion to the Celestia-damned Enclave was involved. New Pegas is a strange city and it attracts a shit-load of weird people. I got in over my head and I had to hightail it outta there unless I wanted Robronco robots up my ass. Then, things got even worse when I detoured to Dise. By Celestia was that place somehow even more fucked up… House and his cyberponies are not ponies you want to mess with. Neither are the zebra Legionaries.”

“Sounds… complicated.” Foolscap gave me a look halfway between worry and bemusement. I didn’t know whether I preferred one or the other.

“I’ll tell you the whole story another time. For now, let’s just focus on getting out of this place, eh?”


*** *** ***


The maintenance door swung open slowly and rusty-like. It was pretty obvious that it hadn’t been in use for quite a while. Hell, it was perfectly possible that it hadn’t been in use for over a hundred years. However, something told me that considering the Twilight Society was perfectly aware of a secret underground entrance to Tenpony Tower, somepony must have used it fairly recently.

First things first.

We made our way quickly through the hallways of Tenpony, getting to Doctor Helpinghoof’s medical clinic as fast as possible. Tenpony’s citizens were the closest things you could get to snobby high-class ponies of alleged stature in the Wasteland, outside of the Bluebloods. They treated us with disdain all the way there. Despite the fact that it was 2 AM, there were still a sizable amount of them up and awake. And thus, a sizable amount of bigotry.

They didn’t say anything, though. Too scared of ol’ Kerosene.

Gotta love ‘im at times.

When we got there, Kerosene was about to reach for the handle and open the door when it seemed to swing open by itself, hitting Kerosene in the face. 

“Sorry about that!”

Two ponies stepped out, both unicorns. One was a gray color, a little short, with a small frame. She wore stable barding with a “2” visible on her collar and a PipBuck glowing green on her right foreleg. She held a strange expression on her face, a look of seriousness and determination. Solemn. Yeah, that’s what I’d call her. The other? A white coated unicorn with a wild red-and-black mane. Oh, and robot legs. And eyes that glowed. This one had a manic look on her face. Crazy, with just a hint of that same determination on the smaller one’s face.

Kerosene stepped back, obviously also surprised by this… interesting pair we’d run into. “No… worries…” he said, cautiously, eyeing the two unicorns suspiciously. Foolscap joined him in their… eyeing. I cleared my throat.

“It’s cool,” I said. Then, I looked over the smaller gray one, who now looked like she wanted to smack the cyberpony in the back of the head for hitting Kerosene in the snout. Something about her seemed awfully familiar. I thought back to a DJ-Pon3 broadcast I’d heard a while back in New Pegas...

“And now, my little ponies, it’s time for the news!  Now you ponies remember when I told you ‘bout those two ponies who crawled themselves out of Stable Two?  Well, I’ve been gettin’ reports that one of those little ponies took out the raider nest in the heart of Ponyville, and saved several pony captives -- including the beloved author of The Wasteland Survival Guide, Ditzy Doo!”


Oh.

Her.

The yellow “2” on her stable barding suddenly seemed a whole lot more intimidating. My breath caught in my throat and I suddenly found myself in a very awkward position. Before me stood the Stable Dweller. Bringer of light. Messiah. Despite my nonchalant dismissal of her earlier to Foolscap, I still found it difficult to believe that I would cross paths with her of all ponies. And while here. Oh, boy.

“You… you’re the… aren’t you?” I managed to say, my eyes wide. “Sweet Celestia… I never thought…”

I could see the Stable Dweller grimace, covering her face with her PipBuck covered forearm. She gave me a small smile and nodded, obviously not really liking the attention I suddenly piled on her. But, then two glowing eyes turned to me and a manic grin erupted on the cyberpony’s face.

“I don’t like to brag,” the cyberpony said, still keeping that ridiculous grin on her face. I could smell alcohol on her breath and I could tell she was drunk. She must have been if she thought I was getting worked up over her, cyberpony or not. “But yeah, it’s me. Name’s Blackjack! But most ponies in the Hoof call me Security.”

I looked at her, my mouth agape. Despite the fact that she was right next to the Stable Dweller, looking at the Security Mare - “Blackjack” - made my neck feel like it was craning itself in the opposite direction. Two of the greatest heroes in the wasteland. Standing in front of me. Together. My chest felt like it could explode at any second.

“Security?” My mouth was still hanging open. “Oh, Celestia fuck me with her horn!”

I could see the Stable Dweller chuckle. “Usually, I’m the one that’s saying that. Nice to see another pony being so vulgar for a change.” I could see Blackjack begin to protest, but she just shut up abruptly. “Name’s Littlepip.”

“Roadside,” I replied, still feeling a little starstruck. To Foolscap, I mouthed, ‘THE STABLE DWELLER AND SECURITY!” She replied by giving me a nervously cheeky smile, teeth and all, before giving me an encouraging hoof-signal. “Those are Foolscap and Kerosene.” The two nodded at the pair of unicorns.

Littlepip seemed a bit bothered by all the starstruck-ness that I seemed to be piling on, but she kept a worried little smile on her face. “Sorry for hitting your friend in the face.”

“It was nothing,” Kerosene interjected, apparently unfazed by the entire encounter.

“Still, sorry.” Littlepip nodded at him.

“My fault,” Blackjack raised her… robot hoof. “Shake on it?” she said, extending her hoof to Kerosene. Kerosene looked at it for a second before shrugging and reaching for her cyber-hoof, when robot fingers erupted from it and encased Kerosene’s hoof in a hard grasp. She then proceeded to shake his hoof vigorously. Kerosene held a look of surprise on his face, not something anypony is used to seeing, but he went along with it, regardless.

Blackjack let go of his hoof and retracted her, ugh, fingers from her hoof. “There we go.”

Littlepip facehoofed, but she looked at me sheepishly. “Anyway, I think we better get going.”

“You on a mission?” I couldn’t help but ask. Littlepip looked taken aback a little, before forcing a smile.

She looked around, before nodding. “It’s kind of top secre-”

“We’re stealing the balefire bomb from Red Eye!” Blackjack nearly shouted. Littlepip facehoofed once more, this time more violently. If she hit herself any harder, she’d have knocked herself out.

“Thanks for spilling the beans, cyberpony.”

“Oh, right. It was supposed to be secret, wasn’t it? My bad. Hey, you shouldn’t let the not-a-smart-cyberpony talk out loud if you don’t want your secrets aired!”

“He wasn’t even asking you!”

“I’m drunk! And how are we even supposed to get out of this joint, anyway?”

“Ugh! There’s a secret-”

“-passageway in the basement that leads outside?” I finished, causing Littlepip to look at me. “That’s how we got in,” I explained.

Littlepip looked me up and down, as if truly taking in my appearance for the first time. She offered me a smile. “Figured as much. Didn’t take you for Tenpony residents. Not nearly staunch enough.”

I smiled back. “I try to fit the mold of the wastelander as best I can.”

“Seems so,” she said, still idly smiling. She eyed the revolver in my holster, before whistling a little. “Nice gun.”

“Yeah,” I said, unholstering it and holding the shiny silver gun in my good hoof. “It’s a pretty good standby. Good stopping power. Reliable.”

“Sweet gun,” Blackjack also, observed. “Never seen a revolver model like that before. Ironshod?”

“Dunno. Got it in New Pegas.”

“Regardless,” Littlepip said. “You’re pretty lucky to have a gun like that. Keep it safe for me, eh?”

“I will!” Oh, I definitely will.

“Anyway, we gotta run. Maybe I’ll see you again one day, Roadside. Until then, goodbye!” Littlepip nodded at all of us before walking down the direction we had previously walked, Blackjack in tow. The cyberpony waved at us drunk-like one final time before she disappeared around the corner with the Stable Dweller.

“That was… interesting,” Foolscap observed.

I was silent, still not sure my brain was processing exactly what had just transpired. “The Stable Dweller and Security… together.” Was my brain still playing catch up? Checking… yes. Yes, it was.

Kerosene coughed, pointing at my leg. “Did you suddenly forget that you have a massive bite wound in your leg?” he asked, squinting his eyes at me.

“Oh, right. Totally forgot about that.”

He sighed, while Foolscap giggled.


*** *** ***


I laid down on the bed, looking at my good-as-new leg. Helpinghoof was kind enough to let me rest on one of his hospital beds in exchange for telling him where exactly his drunken cyberpony patient had gone. I sort of lied to him, but it was hard to feel guilty when lying down after such an arduous journey felt so good. I had a feeling he’d have given me a bed, anyway.

I sighed, covering myself in soft bed sheets.

“I’m going to search for my sister,” Kerosene said. “And to inform her of this… disturbing news about the balefire bomb.”

“What?” Foolscap asked. “This is good news, isn’t it? Two wasteland heroes are teaming up to steal the balefire bomb from Red Eye! Doesn’t this mean Tenpony won’t be under threat of explosion anymore?”

He looked at her, scrunching his jaw. “Maybe. Or it might lead to Red Eye deciding to detonate the bomb earlier than expected.” He sighed. “The Twilight Society will know what to make of this…” he said, shuffling out of the clinic.

It was Foolscap’s turn to sigh. “Isn’t this a good thing?”

I stayed quiet for a bit. “Look, Foolscap. As much as I… creamed my legs back there with those two, it doesn’t mean they’re infallible. I mean, they’re just ponies, right? They could still fuck this all up. I can see where Kerosene’s coming from.”

“I suppose so…” she said, sitting down on the bed with me. “Maybe I was just getting a little too hopeful about heroes…”

“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning forward to look at her closer.

“Back in Stable One-Thirty-Two, rebels lived and died by the law of the overmare. Exile was a constant threat. It’s a corrupt regime like you’ve never seen. But these wasteland heroes… they gave me hope, you know? Like, ponies who were fighting the system. Fighting against ponies who’d wronged other ponies.” She looked me in the eyes. 

“Heroes,” she repeated.

“The wasteland has a lot of alleged ‘heroes,’” I said. “From what Kerosene’s told me, Watcher considered him a hero, too.” I was alluding to another previous conversation I’d had with Kerosene and his family, wherein they explained that Watcher had considered Kerosene an honest pony of good standing for a long time. Then, he just up and disappeared one day. Off to find more “heroes” it seemed.

“But,” she said. “Nopony really belives in heroes out here, right?”

“That’s really not that true. DJ-Pon3 and Watcher seem to. And you.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“It’s important to believe in some things,” I admitted. “But heroes are a strange thing to believe in. I believe in ponies doing good, honest things. But that doesn’t mean that they’re invincible. You can’t call a pony a hero and expect them to live up to some impossible standard. They’re just as vulnerable as anypony else. So, yes, you can say I believe. But it’s a faith that’s easily shaken.”

Foolscap was silent, staring into a gray wall as if boring holes through it.

“When I left the Stable,” she finally said, “I didn’t know what to expect from the wasteland. I knew it’d be hard, but… when I left the Stable, the first thing I heard was a news segment on the conditions in the wasteland. What happened in Old Appleoosa. Security getting a two hundred thousand cap bounty on her head. Very poignant stuff.” She held what seemed to be a wistful look on her face. I could imagine that she was thinking that all this would make for a very good story.

“Maybe it’s because I’m a writer or maybe it’s because I’m still young by Stable standards, but all of those radio segments gave me a lot of hope. DJ-Pon3 gave me hope. The Stable Dweller, Security, Watcher. Even Kerosene and his family.”


Of course.

“It was too much. I got inspired, you could say, the way a writer gets inspired. Got in trouble within a few days with some raider tribes. Ran away, killed a few of those fucking raiders along the way.” She scowled. At this, I was taken aback. I hadn’t expected that Foolscap had already killed, but then again, considering the propensity of both the Stable Dweller and Security… it wasn’t too surprising. “Their sense of decor was… disturbing. Almost made me lose hope in what the heroes were trying to do, but DJ-Pon3 made for a good security blanket.”

Somewhat consciously, I slid a hoof onto her shoulder. “Seems like you’ve been through a lot in the past couple days.” I hesitated for a moment. Foolscap was an interesting case of what happens when a pony becomes trusts a little too much in the so-called “heroes” of the wasteland. They invade your psyche. Drive you to do things. I liked to consider myself smart enough to only personally take care of myself.

I was not a heroic pony. I didn’t take out bad ponies on principle. I didn’t invade hostile territory to free slaves from their imprisonment. I didn’t go up against impossible odds like dragons and giant radscorpions to do the morally right thing. The most I’d do is help someone do something. I never risked my life for a cause. But they did. The Stable Dweller, Security, even Foolscap had tried. Kerosene, too, from what Watcher said.

But not me.

Never Roadside. Never in my travels had I opted to do the right thing. Losing all my money in New Pegas was a result of selfish behavior in the face of intimidating forces. The Legion, the Enclave. Even the Steel Rangers wanted something that I was a part of. So, I ran. Took some money that some debtors would’ve liked to have. Dumped the money in Pegas for a gun and supplies, found my way back to the Equestrian heartland. 

Begin again. Start fresh. Let go.

I’d learned a lot in the past about letting go. Letting go of money. Of morals. To survive. Doing the right thing was hard. Doing it in the face of certain death? Almost impossible.

Foolscap knew none of this, though I suspected that she would’ve found a way to convince herself that it was worth it. And, you know, maybe it was worth it. Worth your own life. But I didn’t think that at the time. I didn’t know the worth of the magic of friendship. Of doing the things the right way. Of friends and family and all those things I’d either discarded or ignored.

So, I stayed quiet, sitting beside her.


*** *** ***


A blue buck poked his head into the clinic some time later. His equally blue eyes swirled around the clinic, before sighing and rubbing his face in what seemed to be a mix of disappointment and relaxed reservedness that seemed to scream, “Oh, great.”

“Oh, boy,” he muttered. “As if I shouldn’t have seen this coming.”

“Looking for someone?” I asked, catching his attention. He turned to me, seeing me and Foolscap. She’d dozed off since then, taking my place on the hospital bed, her white-copper coat only slightly ruffled by the bed sheets. I had to admit, she looked really cute then.

He trotted over. “Yes,” he replied. “It’s kind of hard to miss her. Cyberpony with four robotic legs and glowing eyes. She’s supposed to be here.” He looked at an empty bed with a droll expression. “Supposed to be.” He sighed.

He was looking for Blackjack. That was obvious enough.

“A cyberpony?” I asked, lying just a bit to get his attention. “Really? Wow. So, uh, who is she?”

He looked at me reluctantly, sizing me up. “Ever heard of Security?”

“The heroine in the Hoof? Sure.”

“Well, I’m one of her friends. She got hurt really badly. Took her here. Got her help. Now she’s about half-robot and walking around who knows where.” He rolled his eyes. “So, have you seen her anywhere?”

“Hmm. Well…”

“P-21!” shouted somepony from outside. A gray pegasus flew in, nearly slamming the doors to the clinic open. 

“Glory?” he asked, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Blackjack and another mare have gone out to Red Eye’s camp! They got the balefire bomb away from Tenpony!”

“What?!”


*** *** ***


There are… very few sights in the wasteland that can make one both laugh and shit his haunches at the same time. The “sight,” if you could call it that, was of an entire wing of alicorns flying towards the roof of Tenpony Tower. Littlepip sat, looking very miffed, atop one of the winged unicorns, looking towards the other figure riding the lead alicorn. 

Blackjack wearing a crown of whiskey bottles.

I admit. I laughed. And I could see Foolscap was having difficulty not laughing as well.

The rest of Blackjack’s friends were present. This was the Hoofington group that I’d been hearing about so much on the news. A gray pegasus, an alicorn, a blue buck, a green mare, and a crazy looking stallion. Well, they certainly were an interesting-looking bunch. Especially that alicorn. At the moment, they were all looking dumbstruck at the preposterous sight before us.

I nudged P-21. “I’ll leave you guys to see to Blackjack and Littlepip.”

P-21 nodded nervously. Then, he whipped his head to face me. “Wait, you know-”

I winked, trying my best to look mysterious. I waved at him as I turned to leave.

“What was your name, again?” he called out.

“Roadside,” I said, smiling. “See ya, around!”

I took one last time to look at the “sight” before I trotted over to Foolscap and urged her to follow me. “You want to leave already? But don’t you want to greet Security and the Stable Dweller?” Still using titles, I see, Foolscap.

I shook my head. “Nah,” I replied, smiling, opening the door to the stairway leading back down from the roof. “I got all the info I need. Based from what we’re seeing right now and that ridiculous drunken expression on Blackjack’s face, I can guess they’ve already succeeded. Tenpony Tower is officially not under death watch anymore.” I grinned.

Foolscap managed to smile as we started going down the stairs. “That’s a relief. I was really worried there when Kerosene said… well, you know.”

“Turns out our heroes are a little more reliable than we thought, eh?”

“Indeed.”

We both turned to see Kerosene, standing in front of us, leaning against the staircase’s railings. “I… saw the display from the window.” His expression still held the same stoicism as ever, but I swear he held the slivers of a smile. “It seems those two have succeeded. Watcher picks his heroes well…” Then, he nickered. “Most of the time, anyway. And that Blackjack looks to have some sanity issues.”

“Watcher?” I asked. “What’s he got to do with them?”

“Watcher looks for heroes everywhere,” Kerosene provided as the three of us started walking back down the stairs, the clip-clopping of our hooves obvious in the empty expanse. “I could practically smell his influence on them.”

“Like how he influenced you?” Foolscap asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More than I’d like to admit,” he said, a scowl appearing on his face briefly. “But yes. I’ll say that I wouldn’t be the pony I am if it weren’t for Watcher. He has a way to get them in trouble, however...” He nickered once more, out of irony. “Being a hero is dangerous work. Watcher’s heroes, even more so. They tend to get killed or worse.”

“Worse?” Foolscap asked.

“Sometimes, they end up in Canterlot. That never ends well for anypony.” Kerosene’s hoof-falls rang a little louder after he said that. Canterlot was something even I didn’t like to think about.

“Canterlot,” I explained. “It was bombed at the end of the war. It’s covered by this deadly Pink Cloud. Kills you outright if you breathe too much of it, from what I hear. Place is basically a huge deathtrap. Most ponies who dare venture in there for the abundant supplies never come back. And most who do end up fused to parts of their gear, permanently disfigured.”

Foolscap shuddered. “That sounds… horrifying.”

“I was never too upset that Watcher just stopped contacting me one day,” Kerosene continued. “I think you can guess why.” He let that statement hang in the air for a moment.

I spoke up after a while. “How did the meeting with the Twilight Society go?”

“It hasn’t happened yet,” he said, sighing. “At least, not in the way we were hoping it would go.”

“What?” I asked. “Why not?”

“I told them about the antics of those two. It got them more than a bit riled up. I came up here to see what was happening. And, when I saw you two going up the stairs, to bring you back down with me.”

Foolscap raised another eyebrow. “Any point to that?”

Kerosene chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

And, oh boy, did we see.

Footnote:

Quest Perk Unlocked: Starstruck -- Being in the presence of Wasteland Heroes has given you a boost to confidence! Your Charisma is permanently increased by one point.