> Crossroads
>  by GammaG3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Horror, Craziness, or Boredom?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

War…War never changes.

On the fateful day of October 23rd, 2077, the Great War began and ended.  All of humanity’s hatred was released in just a few short moments.  The entire world was scorched with fire, and poisoned by radiation, killing all that came in contact.  Humanity's demon for destruction was satisfied, but took all life on Earth as a price.


But not all life was lost as it was thought to have been.  Thousands took shelter in Vaults that shielded them from the horrors of the war that incinerated and poisoned the world above.  


One such Vault, Vault 101, housed the Lone Wanderer, who set foot into the Capital Wasteland, and forever changed it.  Starting out as a naive vault dweller searching for his lost father, the treacherous and sinful wastels could only treat him to vice.  But the Lone Wanderer refused to surrender to the vices that have already claimed so many.


Helping his fellow survivors, he set himself a new purpose.  Activating Project Purity and defeating the Enclave, he has shown to those around him, and continues to do so, that there is still hope.


But not all of the world was completely hopeless as the Capital Wasteland.


Many miles away on the West Coast, it appeared that humanity has found it’s salvation.


In the Mojave desert, the luxurious city of New Vegas stood tall and untouched by the War that forever scarred the world around.  With Hoover Dam still operational, and Lake Mead full of clean water,  the inhabitants the areas around already had hope, and began building communities, forming tribes that would reform into civilizations.


The Courier, who simply delivered parcels, suddenly found himself being the center of the war that fought over New Vegas and the fate of the Mojave desert.


The second battle for Hoover Dam erupted.  The Courier, not preferring the perks of the NCR nor the savagery the Legion brought, decided to fight under the third flag.  Backed up by an army of securitrons, the Courier flew the flag of New Vegas over the great dam, and the Mojave was forever changed.


But even through these hopeful, new days, people will be killed and blood will be spilled.  The two legends on the opposite coasts still persevered valiantly against the forces that wished to drag them down.  The wastes continued to be plagued with hate and sin, because war...war never changes.


Each man walks their own road.  Each is shaped by the journeys they go through.  Sometimes men find the end of their roads, but at the same time, a new one is set out for them.  The two figures’ roads are about to end, and a new one will open up to them, a road to a destination that nobody has ever seen before.



***







***



A mysterious figure walked through the dry Capital Wasteland.  The man wore thick power armor that looked more advanced and professional than the usual model.  It shined and protected him from head to toe, but the man showed no trouble in hauling the massive weight around.  Every part of his body was obscured by steel, even the visor that he could see out of was of a thick black.  By the right of his chest, a “101” was printed with a different, contrasting shade of gray.

On his right, wide shoulder plate, a dirty gray emblem was etched on.  The emblem was of a circle of olive branches with wings sprouting from under.  Three turning gears marked the radius.  In front, sword stood strong and tall, acting as a shield for the sigil.

On the man’s back was a large battery with a backpack piggyback riding it.  A strange, box-like rifle stuck out of his bag as it hopped around whenever he jumped from a height.  The strange jingles of tin and steel was heard every time the bag danced.  Around his waist was several packets and holsters that contained pistols and ammunition.    

His heavy legs crunched on the dry earth that was once full of moisture.  The earth, the buildings, and even the skies were all sickly and dead.  He descended from a hill, which appeared to be the same as everything else: dead, black and dry.

In the middle of his timeless, lonely trek, he stopped dead in his tracks  He froze himself completely, and brought up a strange device that was hooked onto his left arm.  On the left side of was carved text that read “Pip-Boy: Model 3000”.

The hydraulics of the helmet shut down, the man slowly and uncomfortably, removed the helmet.  He dangled it with his hand beside his waist.

The face of a young man was revealed to the dead world.  His face was a clean vanilla while the short hair on top of his cranium was a dirty brunette.  While he was still young, the horrors and experiences of the wasteland gave him more of a grizzled and older look.  He held a calm expression, before his eyes widened and his mouth pried itself open.

He clutched his helmet while blinking deeply.  He brought his Pip-boy in front of himself again, switching status screen to status screen until he found the map.

His eyes shifted their attention from the map screen to what was in front of himself.  His jaw shook in awe and sweat began to precipitate.

“No way….it can’t be...” he said in awe.

His mind was still wrapping around upon seeing the large, crashed disk that displayed itself like an opening act.  The large saucer had more intricate designs, light material, and fins that made it aerodynamic.  Wire and batteries were exposed and decayed from inside the broken hulls.  A large, ball-like cockpit faced the man in armor, while its complex systems inside were ruined.  Not too far from the shattered glass, a little green man laid himself out.  

“It was an alien…”  He murmured.  "An actual....alien."

It’s jet-black eyes that stared into the sick sky.  It’s fingers were long and nimble and delicate.  It wore a gray space suit that reflected the light like a metal.

The Lone Wanderer frantically switched back to his device, going through several menus before picking a radio station.  He switched it on.  Very clear babbling noises emitted from the device and he listened to it with great attention.  The Lone Wanderer once turned it on before to hear faint signals of something that resembled a conversation.  Now it was at it’s clearest, but no less understandable.

He approached the crashed saucer and first examined the green alien.  Dead he thought.  He spotted a child's toy that laid next to the alien's hand.  He picked up the toy, which appeared to be some sort of cosmic pistol.  He then collected strange tubes scattered around that actually fitted in a chamber of the pistol.
          
Before he could try to peek in the cockpit, he suddenly felt light.  The gravity around his shoulders lost more and more strength.  He cocked his head around and turned his eyes, noticing that small pebbles and gusts of dirt were rising into the air.  Before he knew it, he stood in the center of a column of rising, bright light, with most of it being absorbed into the dead soil.  While his mind said so, his muscles refused to move as if he was in an anesthetic state. 

He could only stand still when his arms and legs defied gravity and his will.  Even his neck was not responsive, sending him floating upwards into the unknown.  “What the hell…”


***


Loud music that consisted of strums of an acoustic guitar and flute was echoed throughout a scientific decorated-like suite that drowned out the mumbles of conversations.  The personalities’ attitude within mirrored the same lazy tone that was given off by the instrumental.

“Juke Jeff!”  A man called out from the stainless, steel bedroom.  “Destroyed Earth to deaf jukebox!  Turn it down!  It’s starting to get annoying!”

The man on the bed threw his True Police Stories magazine onto the floor and stood up, stretching his back until he heard some cracks.  

His skin was a light tan while his coal, moderately-long hair was barely long enough to curtain his ears.  He wore leather pants and boots of black.  Small patches of dark brown and flexible steel protected his legs.  He wore no shirt, showing his lean but fit upper body.  

He wore a rather large, black device on his left arm.  Several buttons and dials were scattered all around it.  The interface on the main screen was an amber color.

He wobbled to the doorway which lead to a circular room with a holographic, circular table in the center.  Just as his body went right through the doorway, he crooked his head to the right and rested his elbow on the jukebox that was directly right.

“If you can hear me, can you turn that down?”  The shirtless man asked.  

“Ehhhh sorry there man!”  A clear masculine, but mechanical voice emerged from the jukebox.  “I’m just too busy enjoying these tunes!  Damn it’s nice to be back...for real this time!”

The laid-back man gave a few thumps to the old jukebox.  “Yeah, don’t understand why Dr. Mobius would just remove the music drives, kinda defeats the purpose,” he said before slouching his way around the central table.  “But then again, Mobius isn't living in spring-clean bio-gel.”

“Eeeeyy, don’t talk about Ol’ Mobius like that!”  The jukebox slowly retorted.  “Mobius ain’t always a fan of the Blues, but he was a fan of how I soothed his calibrations.”  The man gave a small nod as he went into the room from across the jukebox.

“Mug!  Mug!  Give me the fucking mug!!”  A small voice screeched from the room that the man was about to enter.  “I had that mug!  You stole it!  You bitch!”  

“You?  Put your rusty, filthy and rough little robotic arms on this cupware?  Preposterous!” A snobby, female voice jeered from the same room.  “All cookware and silverware must be scrubbed and cleaned professionally!”

“That’s my fucking joooooob!”

The man slowly wobbled inside and lazily looked to his right.  A little monowheel robot was reaching and hopping up towards a stomach-high sink that was currently purging it's faucet.  

His lazy expression remained unchanged and he went up to the long table on the left side of the room.  It had a big, stainless console on it with a small, static monitor and keyboard in front.  To the side of this computer was several large, rusty trays filled with rich soil.  Several thin stalks of plant life emerged and the man slowly went and picked a maize from amongst them.

“Really Sink?”  The man said while munching on his corn-like produce.  “You stole one of Muggy’s mugs again?”  He raised an eyebrow.  “I thought we already established that ‘mug-cleaning’ was his duty?”  

“And dishes too!”  The little robot promptly added while turning towards him, revealing a little screen in front, displaying a smiling coffee cup.

“Yes I-I know b-but…” The Sink stammered.  “But to let HIM clean?  To let a dirty automata like him wash this cup clean?!  Such tomfoolery shall never happen!  And that is when I shall step in and set things of this matter correctly!”  

The man only sighed before reaching in the sink to pull out a wet mug, much against the Sink’s protests.

He handed it back to the tiny robot, who snatched it up and zipped out of the room, laughing maniacally.  A minute later, the robot stopped fondling the coffee cup and held it in front of him, asking himself quietly, “What the fuck do I do now?” 

The little robot sulked even lower.  “I hate my life…”

The shirtless man finished swallowing his previous mouthful of maize.  “You know Sink, how the hell do you manage to get this stuff?”  He asked while stuffing the half-eaten vegetable into the fridge.  “You have like no arms, so how do things somehow manage to enter you grasp?”   (Truly, it was one of the biggest mysteries of Big MT, well with the bigger mystery being how many toes did 8 used to have.  All the personalities in the Sink were baffled by the strange movements of objects that ended up in the kitchen appliance.  Even the Think Tank have no clue on the causes of this phenomenon.)

“Don’t put your unfinished food into the fridge with the clean produce, that’s unsanitary!”  The Sink scolded.  “And…” She paused.  “Where do you think you’re going?!  Courier?!”

The Courier wobbled back into the main room and went through the doorway that lead to the balcony, giving a view of the Big MT and it’s barren, shale-colored, landscape.

“Ahhhh yes, sweet relief,” he sighed with a smile.

Big MT used to be a research facility that was hidden in the mountain, until an accident at the Y-0 Facility caused the whole top of the mountain to be blown off (Something about Dr. Klein forgetting basic math, the number two, and a rubber chicken).  

Now the pre-war facility is a very circular crater that is miles wide, with buildings scattered around, each with a different purpose.  All of these sub-facilities were connected by pipes and walkways that sourced from the large dome in the center, to which the Courier was staying in the high up, built-in apartment.

A stream of crystalline, yellow liquid flowed from the top railings.  It arched down until it splattered across the white dome, giving it a (in terms of the Sink) filthy stain.  The Courier’s head was cocked up.  His eyelids rested, and he held a big smile on his face.  The stream of mysterious liquid stopped flowing, and the Courier fidgeted with his nether region and returned back inside.

“That is….absolutely unhygienic!!”  The Sink said mortified.  “I have never seen so much disregard for basic hygiene!  You need a scrubbing!”

“What?!  There aren’t any bathrooms!”  The Courier retorted from inside the main room.  “If it’s someone to blame, it’s Mobius!  He forgot to install bathrooms!  I can’t remember SEEING a toilet in all of Big MT!”  

He then crossed his arms and gave a stubborn grunt.  “I’m just doing nature’s business, Biology stuff.  Dala would’ve been proud.”

“You know, you could always just ask,” said a suave, masculine voice from the Sink’s room.  “I mean, I can plant seeds and grow them good and all.  But it doesn’t help to have a little bit of...‘nature’s assistance’.”

The Courier shook his pointed finger to the large modem resting on the table.  “No,” he stated.  “You already tried to seed Toaster, Muggy and Sink.  I ain’t letting you get THAT close to me!”  

A small cough came from behind the Courier.  “If I may interrupt Sir’s quarrels?”  A politely, british-fainted accent asked.  The Courier’s attention was shifted towards the circular, holographic table, for which he rested his two hands on.

“What is it, CIU?”  The Courier asked.

“I’d like to begin by apologizing to Sir for interrupting Sir’s previous conversations,” the table explained.  “But I have just received a message from the Think Tank addressed directly to Sir.  They request Sir’s presence as they have something they wish to show Sir.  They have not given any details of what they wish to show Sir, but I guarantee Sir that it is not a show-and-tell of a Cazadore spliced with a Radscorpion this time.”

“Then it’s probably a yao guai crossed with a bloatfly…”  The Courier muttered.

The Courier hung his head low and stumbled himself quickly to his room.  He went to a locker and pulled out several articles of clothing.  He then later emerged from the room readied, and tired at the same time.

Instead of bare skin, he wore very faint, olive combat armor that was once military-grade riot gear.  His bare arms and chest were now covered with thick plates and leather sleeves that extended up to the wrists.  He had two bandoliers covering atop of the worn-out thick plates: one with a line of ammunition with the other being lined with several small pouches.  

Hanging from his shoulders was a dirty black duster that covered his olive armor and drooped down to the tops of his boots.  His arms stretched out of the sleeveless holes, and the back of the duster separated by the inner vertex of his two legs.  The revealing gap on his chest displayed the truth of how armored he really was.  

The picture on the back of his longcoat was painting of a blue circle with 12 silver stars encircling a larger 13th centered star.  Below was several red and blue streaks that drooped down.  

By the collar of the duster, white letters were stitched on, labeling “Old World Justice.”   

Hanging on his back was a dark, rust-colored plasma rifle that was larger than usual models.  It had a larger back chamber and more stabilization frames.  The interface on his Pip-Boy named it “Q-35 Matter Modulator,” a prototype of a newer plasma rifle model.  He walked over to the two elevators at the end while adjusting his clothing.

“What do those wackos want this time?”  He asked to himself irritably.  Those wackos are more fucked up than me!  God please help me if another deathclaw was captured.  He stopped himself and thought for a moment.

A grin grew on his face.  Or if they have another tank for me, he finished. 

If that’s case, I take all that back.

He ended up in a rather large, dark but shiny room.  On the opposite wall were so many computers and buttons that it was a miracle the Think Tank still remember which is which.  A small staircase rose up, linking the ground floor to the catwalk that attached to the opposite wall barely seven feet high.  All around, five floating pods with brains minded their own businesses.  Each had their own color and three flat screen monitors protruding from the chassis: one mouth and two eyes.      

The Courier walked up and stood in front of the blue Think Tank that awaited directly up the center stairs.  

“You guys wanted to see me?  Please tell me it’s another tank,”  The Courier asked while clapping his hands in prayer.

The floating brain-bot turns to face the awaiting Courier, showing him their brains suspended in biogel and their facial monitors’ slight static.

“THE LOBOTOMITE ANSWERS THE SUMMONS!  THE LOBOTOMITE WHO SAVED US!  AND IT COMES USING IT’S...LEGS!”  The blue brain-bot said in a loud, unchanging tone.  The Courier could not help but cringe at Dr. Klein’s tone.  It was as if his ‘caps lock’ key was broken and now he was forced to yell like this for the rest of his days, which was a likely story.

“Why the hell do you keep calling me a lobotomite?  If anyone here is closest to being one, it’s you,” the Courier pointed with his bottle.  But the loud Doctor only ignored his statement and went on about his own reasons.

“I…” The blue bot stopped and turned himself around until he caught the glances of the light blue Think Tank that was looking back at him.  “...WE HAVE BEEN MAKING SOME BREAKTHROUGH TECHNOLOGIES!  NEW TELEPORTATION TECHNOLOGY THAT NO LONGER NEEDS LODESTONES!  AS WELL AS PREPARATIONS FOR MOON TRAVEL AND EXPERIMENTS!  AND THIS IS WHY WE NEED THE LOBOTOMITE AND HIS PENIS-HANDS’  HELP!  FOR THE SAKE...OF SCIENCE!”

The Courier held his fingers in front of his face.  He gazed and studied each finger and moved it accordingly.  

“Does this look like a penis to you?”  The Courier asked with a moderate expression.  He stuck out his right hand towards Dr. Klein, with all of his fingers contracted, except for his middle finger and thumb.  The doctor simply ignored his question and gesture, and continued to ramble about his academic success.

While the rusty gears in his mind turned, his eyes and mouth shot right open.  His mind was placing the pieces of the mad doctor’s statements together and a large smile began to take shape.

Let’s see here.  New teleportation tech, and….Moon…Travel?!

“Are you saying I’m going to the Moon?!”  The Courier shouted while shaking his hands.  A humongous smile grew in his face as he screeched his inner excitement.

“THE LOBOTOMITE HAS FIGURED OUT MY SAYING IN LESS THAN TWO MINUTES!  DOES THE LOBOTOMITE OBJECT SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS?!”

“Hell naw!”  The Courier shook his head viciously.  “Well what are we waiting for?!  Let’s go to the fucking Moon!  The Moon!  Anytime now!”  He said while moving around rapidly.

“THE LOBOTOMITE ACCEPTS!”  Dr. Klein announced.  “THE TESTING WILL BE CARRIED OUT IN A FEW HOURS!”

The excited Courier cocked his head after ceasing his constant cheers.  “So wait, how am I going to get there, and what’s the plan?”

“Why jet propulsion of course, my silly teddy bear,” answered a strange feminine-like voice.  The ‘to-be moonman’ looked to his left to see pink and light cyan brain-bots similar to Klein’s design.  

“We have a uh, space shuttle that we have been working on for a little bit now,” Dr. 0 explained.  “We built it out of some nuts and bolts that were laying around.  Didn’t exactly get to test it, but I am just as certain as how much I hate Mr. House that our scrap metal project will ascend more than 20 feet in the air.”  

The duster-wearing Courier’s attention was drawn to the large monitor on the side that suddenly flickered from lines of code to a picture of the Think Tank Dome.  Behind the dome was a large, white space shuttle with a black visor and nose, that was more than twice the height of the Dome itself.  It simply stood up without any observations as in why.  

The Courier scratched the back of his head.  “How long has that thing been there?” 

“About like a week maybe?”  Dr. 0 answered with uncertainty in his voice.

“Ahh okay,” he nodded.

“AND I SAID WE SHOULD JUST TELEPORT TO THE MOON BUT NOOOOO!  ‘WE DON’T HAVE ENOUGH DATA’ SAYS THE LOSERS THAT CAN’T PREDICT QUANTUM-SPACE COORDINATES!  ‘WE GOTTA USE ROCKETS!’”  Dr. Klein scorned.

“Why do you have to criticize rocket science Klein?!”  Dr. 0 complained.  “We don’t know how far away the Moon, or your heart is!  There’s nothing wrong with blasting things into the sky!  Every basic scientist knows the basic arithmetics of rocket sciences….unless YOU don’t know!”

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE!  MY INTELLIGENCE IS DEFINITELY LARGER THAN HOW MUCH YOUR CORRODED BRAIN CAN STORE IN YOUR PLASTIC TOY YOU CALL A CHASSIS TANK!  WHILE YOU LOT WERE DAWDLING WITH YOUR….HAND PENISES, I WAS MAKING ACTUAL, SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS!  YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO COMPLAIN!  YOU ARE OVERRULED!  CASE CLOSED!”

“Really?  Is that what YOU think?  I thought we already went over this, and you just trampled on my heart!  That YOU did NOTHING!  You always take on all the credit!  You never actually bothered to thank us!  Well let me tell you this, you-!”

“Guys!  Shut up!”  

The Courier shook his hand between the ancient bickerers.  Right now, he did something he never thought he could do here before, break up their argument.  The consequences of having pre-war brains control whatever tech is left in your body from previous experiments (and he learned that the hard way when one of the brains pushed the ‘shiny red button’) is quite dire.  All the Think Tank in the room stared at the Courier in shock and curiosity.  

While the Courier jigged with a cheesy smile, he noticed that Dala’s eye monitors were unusually close, scanning his chest in greater detail.  His eyes narrowed but remained relaxed, and he calmly placed his hand on the monitors, slowing shoving them away while she gave out disturbing groans of pleasure that caused him to shudder.   

“Lets try...to stop...the observations....while we're talking.”

The Courier turned back to the majority of the Think Tank.  “Alright, so can you guys just tell me the plan?”

“Oh yes, um the plan!”  Dr. 0 remarked while his eye monitors briefly scanned the room around.  “Well you already know the first part; launching the lobotomite into low Earth orbit.  Now here comes the fun part!”  The calm mailman crossed his arms.

“While you, the lobotomite, is just floating around without that grubby MR. HOUSE taking the glory of the technology, the teleporter module will have to be automat...err, manually activated by the pilot.  It’s stored in the big nose-thingy of the shuttle for, uh, for maximum...efficiency?  From there, instead of teleporting to Big Mountain, you will be teleported a distance away from your initial position!  Easy, right?  I know!  I know!”  

The only standing man gave a shrug and shirked his facial muscles.  “Alright then, that’s the plan?”  

The Courier them openly applauded with his hands before the Think Tank could answer.  “Great!  Let’s get started then!  I don’t know what we are waiting for, but time's a wastin’!  Let’s go to the god damned moon!”  He announced playfully while making a ridiculous pose and scampering off like a child.  Mid-way through, he stopped and ran in place before jogging to a Think Tank with a pale, green chassis.

“Sup 8?”  He greeted while giving a small wave.

“!#@%^#$@@@@#$%@$%@#?”  Random, ambiguous noises came from the speaker box as the Think Tank faced the Courier

“Everything is fine….” The Courier answered.  “....Except I’m going to the Moon!”  He added while spreading his arms out, pointing upwards with his index finger.

“!@#%@@!@@@$^&*&%$%%$#^*@”

“Heh, yeah 8.  It’s not everyday when you get offered a chance to go to the Moon!”  He said.

Out of all the Think Tank who were plagued with crazy and psychosis, The Courier found Dr. 8 the most sane and tolerable, and in fact, a friend.  Unfortunately, Dr. 8’s voice module was damaged prior to an unexpected meeting with a Brotherhood Elder, so now all he can say are random code.  Somehow, the Courier understands him through the combined knowledge of Robco Terminal coding and keen perception.

The Courier tilted his head.  “Say 8, do you know how this teleportation stuff actually works?” He asked before drinking the last drops of his sarsparilla.  “Because I don’t know shit!”  He then broke out a large laugh, which then prompted him to... *Braaaaaaap!*

“!#@$^&^*%^&%%^#@@#%#@@$%$”

“Better hurry up before another one comes.”  He warned while grinning.

“!##@$#^#$&#@@#@@@#)^&~!#$@”

“Woah woah woah, slow down dude,” The Courier shook his hands in front of 8.  “I just want the general idea, alright?  Try to explain it simply, without equations and that other scientist mumbo jumbo.  Like try to explain it to an average post-apocalyptic american who suffered severe brain damage.”

“@!#!@#$@#%@$@@#@^&.  !@@#@$%@!#%@#!$_+!$#@”

“Huh huh,” The Courier nodded.

“@!#@!$#@%$%#!@##%^#”

“Hmm.”

“@!#$@%#$@@%@$%@@%@%$”

“Yeah, I think I have a good idea on THAT theory.”

“@!#$@%@@!$@#%$@$%.  @$#$#@%%#$%!#^*)%”

“Okay…”

“!#@%%$@%#$@^#^#%$@@%”

“MmmmHmmm.”

“!@#@#$@#$$$%@%@@!$^#@!”

“Alright.”

“@#!$#@%@%@%#@#$%@^%”

“Oh…”

“!#!@$#%@%$@!$!#%!%!”

“Ohhhh….!”

“#$!%@$%@^@%$%@$%@!@#$!”

“Ohh!  I get it!”  He exclaimed while clapping his hands together.

“!@##$!$!%$%^&^$@$!@!#^^#&#*”

“Yeah, that actually makes some sense!”  He remarked with an enlightened smile.  "Why can't anyone be as smart as you?  All everyone else does is say words that they expect me to understand on the spot!"

“!@#!@$%@$^@$&#$%?”

“Nice seein' ya, 8.  Thanks for actually making sense!” He said as he walked back to the elevators.  “And don’t worry, I’ll take your Sonic Transmitter with me to space, just like you asked.”  

He paused before spazzing his hands out.  “The chips too!”

“#!#$^@@$%@%$?”

“No problemo!” He finished off before heading back to the Sink.  

Right!  Now, he rubbed his chin.  What  should I bring…?


====







===


“Alright, got my dufflebag-o-goodies and I am ready to go,” The Courier smiled before closing up the bag he hung over his shoulder.  The Courier stepped out of the front entrance of the Think Tank Dome, and is now ready to board the Space Shuttle (“Whatever the hell THAT was” in his mind).  He popped out a bottle of vodka and slurped the strong drink into his stomach.

Barely even stepping 100 feet after leaving the dome, he was approached by a strange man wearing a brown jumpsuit.  The man wore a strange mask and mouthpiece that made it impossible to see his expressions (not like anyone really wanted to).  His head was shaved completely and the skin on his cranium had long scars streaking across the flesh.

He slowly approached the Courier in a primitive manner, holding a glowing hatchet with a tight grip with the head facing the ground.  He growled in some inaudible language that reminded the Courier of Groknak.  The Courier finished the last drops of his drink before lazily discarding it behind himself, leaving a crash of glass that sounded from the concrete.

The Courier rolled his eyes  “Fucking lobotomites…”

He reached into his dufflebag and pulled out a strange cylinder.  The cylinder was no more than a foot high, both ends protruded out with other small cylinders.  One end had a metal cage-like frame around the circumference, while the other end had metal handles protruding out.   

“You guys are worse than those Legion assassins!”    

He gripped the front handle and the rim of a more, protruding layer on the back and began to pull out.  The strange cylinder grew to be at least a meter long, revealing the true identity of it.  The Courier held the device onto shoulder, allowing the lobotomites to gaze into the barrel.  The overall orange device was covered with blinking lights, steel screws, and loose wire that seemed to be of no hindrance to the shooter

This was one of the Courier’s favorite tools, The Tesla-Beaton Prototype, a Tesla Cannon that could fire four shots per cell instead of the typical one.  He discovered it in a near-broken condition by a crashed VB-02 Vertibird (And could not fix to this day, much to his own dismay and frustration).  Using the knowledge and technology at Big MT, he was able to modify it so it could compact.

The Courier gave a smile as he aimed the cannon towards the oblivious, creeping man.

“Zappity-zap-zap!”

With a small pull of a trigger, a huge bolt of pure electricity zipped out of the chamber.  The area around was illuminated in a bright light.  A large *ZAP* sound roared from the cannon.  The lightning struck the pacing lobotomite, giving him a massive jolts of electricity.  The rag-doll body launched back while knives of electricity stabbed across his corpse before dissipating on the ground.

Absent-minded, the Courier reached into his pocked with his left hand and pulled out a piece of bubblegum.  He plopped the dry pastry into his mouth and chewed and suckled on it, while his eyes held a bored look.  His ears perked when he heard multiple footsteps, approaching from behind his back.  He turned and faced several more lobotomites wielding pipes and proton axes.  “Jeez you guys grow like weeds!”

He rolled his eyes as a thin, pink balloon of sugar inflated from his mouth.  It popped shortly after, giving the Courier a little jump, and pulled it back into his mouth.

“Look, if you wanna fight, we can do it when I get home.  I gotta moon to visit,” he said while pushing his gum to the sides of his mouth.

The savagely lobotomites showed no response to the Courier’s words, and pulled their weapons back while clenching their muscles.  A quick check on his radar showed him that several more lobotomites were arriving to the scene.  

The cannon-wielding mailman cocked his head, cracking his neck while gaining a small smile.  

“Alright then, might as well go out with a bang first,” he said before discharging another massive beam of energy.


***







***


The sun shined overhead in the magical land of Equestria.  The Pegasi weather team was taking a vacation, so the sky was clear as it could ever be.  The denizens of the natural world chirped and creeped with instinctive activity.  This would be called the “Perfect Day” while it’s inhabitants simply called it a normal day.

In the busy town of Ponyville, three fillies traveled around town, hoping for anything, really.  An earth pony and unicorn filly sat in the back of a little red wagon while they were pulled by a pegasus filly on a scooter.  All three had blank flanks.

“What exactly are we looking for Scootaloo?”  The little unicorn asked.  The unicorn had a faint silver coat with a puffy mane of light pink and faded indigo.  Her emerald eyes stared curiously at the orange filly with tiny wings, pulling them with a scooter with her miniscule wings.

The little pegasus in front took a quick glance back towards her friends.  Her light purple mane was hidden underneath her helmet as she gazed back with her cerise eyes as the fillies’ manes were waving in the wind.

“We’re looking for something super surprising and exciting!”  She emphasized with a smile.  She quickly turned back around and prompted herself to speed up, giving the two fillies in the back a small whiplash to the acceleration.  

“Besides, you remember Rainbow Dash’s, Twilight’s and all the others’ stories?  They got their cutie marks from Rainbow’s Sonic Rainboom, so we just gotta be surprised with something super cool, and we get our cutie marks!”

The two fillies in the back exchanged unconvinced looks.  “Well ‘ah think that nothings gonna happen, so can we just try something else?”  The faint-yellow coated filly asked in a dixie accent.  “So let’s try somethin’ else to get our cutie marks.”

The orange filly in front groaned while rolling her eyes. “Alright then.  So Apple Bloom, what do you think we should do?”  She asked expectantly.

The pale yellow filly in the back rubbed her hoof onto her chin as she thought deeply.  The other fillies looked at her, waiting for an answer.  Then far along their right side, a rather large tree began to take detail.  Windows, balconies and telescopes were incorporated into it, along with a little wooden banner with a book on it.

Apple Bloom’s expression then jumped up.  “Hey ‘Ah know!  We can check out thuh’ library,” she snapped while an imaginary lightbulb lit up over her head.  “Twilight says that there are tons of things in books.”

“Well that actually might be a good idea,” the faint-silver filly agreed with a smile.  “Maybe we can find a book on cutie marks!  Or even one that can tell us on how to get them!”

“Yeah!  That’s a great idea!”

The orange filly remained largely unconvinced.  “How about we all try rocket-rope-swing as our cutie marks instead?”  The filly suggested, speeding up her pace as the large oak approached.  The two fillies seemed to notice her gesture and they both shook their heads, to which they then stopped and quickly introduced themselves into the large tree-building.

The oak inside was mainly hollowed out, with the walls being built-in bookshelves filled with the obvious.  Without even a greeting, the fillies ran right past the purple unicorn and little dragon that gave puzzled looks.  Two of the three began frantically scanning the spines of the books, ignoring the first call of a purple unicorn.  

While the orange filly finally began skimming the titles, the unicorn asked them a second time.  ”My little ponies!  What is it that you’re looking for?”  Instead of simply ignoring her, their attentions were shifted to the librarian.

“Well Twilight, we’re looking for books on cutie marks.”  Apple Bloom waved over.  “So we’re hopin’ that we can figure out how exactly we get them or what kinds there are.”  

The purple unicorn gave a small chuckle.  “Well there isn’t a lot we actually know about cutie marks,” Twilight Sparkle elaborated.  “The keys of getting a cutie mark isn’t something that is written in paper.  Well, not yet at least.”

The little dragon patiently picked up discarded book after book, and returned them to their initial locations.  But after discovering pile after pile of inconsiderate care of tomes, he too, followed through with their example.  

“I’ll be taking a nap Twilight, so wake me when things settle,” he grumbled while keeping a stiff profile up the stairs.

Twilight took a quick glance towards Scootaloo, who was boredly waving her hoof in the air.  She rested on her back, foreleg behind her head, legs crossed, on a large, rectangular prism.  A quick inspection shown that it was simply divided and constructed using various books around.  Twilight scoffed to herself slightly before taking a few steps towards Scootaloo.

“Hey Twilight, where could we find ghosts?”  Apple Bloom asked, causing Twilight Sparkle to stop in her tracks.  She looked back to the little filly who then bit into a book onto the shelf and climbed down from the ladder.

“N-”

Scootaloo’s dull expression suddenly shot up.  “Hey!  Maybe we can get Ghost-Hunter cutie marks!”  She suggested while standing on all fours.

Twilight rolled her eyes with a half amused and pitiful smirk.  “I’m afraid that there really aren’t any ghosts,” Twilight pointed out, causing the raised ears and faces of the fillies’ to lose energy.  But a quick scanning of a plentiful book caused Scootaloo’s expression to turn right around.

“Ooo!  Ooo!  How about aliens?  Do aliens exist?”  She asked.  Twilight cocked her head in a moment of thought.

“The answer for that question,” she answered with.  “We have no idea!”

“Huh?”  Was elicited from all three of the fillies.

Twilight nodded her head.  “That’s right, we have no clue if aliens are real or not.  Maybe somewhere far away, they could be some sentient life.  They would probably have to resembled us, or otherwise how else would they be able to survive and think?  But in the end, the whole universe is endless, filled with endless possibilities!”

“But it won’t be until a very, very long time that we actually encounter extra-terrestrial life.”

Listening to Twilight’s answers, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom lightly nodded at each sentence, keeping their attentions and small smiles.  Scootaloo drooped her eyelids low, leaving a distraught moan before flopping herself back onto the book-bed.

Why is this soooo boooring?


***







***


The Wanderer’s eyes pained at the contact with the intense light.  His eyelids trembled at the first sights of a surgery light.  His head, arms and legs all felt sleepy and worn.  He laid on a cold, metallic table.  When he attempted to move his arms, he found that his limbs were bound to the very same platform he rested on.

His eyes gradually adapted to the brightness, but still remained blurred.  With his pupils contracting, he was able to see more than a false heaven.  He saw that the ceiling was a smoothed, turquoise steel that seemed to reflect the more intense parts of the light.  Facing directly over his legs was a circular, lamp with three, bright bulbs that tried to blind him.  

To his sides, were green, humanoid figures turned to him as soon as he let out a groan of confusion.  His ears rang wildly, but was barely able to make out the babbles that were exchanged between the two.  After one of them threw his arms into the air, a strange, auto-doc arm came down, unveiling its series of surgical tools.

A sharp needle risen from the cluster of scientific instruments.

“Wh-!”

Before the Lone Wanderer could speak, the needle swiftly jabbed into his neck, causing his elevated head to thump into the cold operation table.  His eyes and mouth clamped themselves shut as the robotic arm retracted it’s needle and brought saws and scalpels out, to which the figures conversed normally.  
 









> Chapter 1: Rebellion, Journey, or Prank?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At least they let me keep my clothes.

The Lone Wanderer found himself to be trapped. He woke up to a strange, steel room with walls that encircled above, making climbing out invalid. He found himself with all of his gear and power armor gone, except for his Vault 101 jumpsuit. The doorway was locked with some strange force field, and touching it produced a painful shock. Occasionally, a metal claw would hover over his cell, only go to another cell and extract some poor person who screamed for mercy.

Searching his own body, he discovered several scars that stretched along his stomach. He scratched his head, still trying to decide whether this whole thing was a dream or not. The fact that the signal led him to a crashed, alien spaceship shocked him to the core. Now he was INSIDE another spaceship, and that was a good enough diagnosis to classify as a bad dream.  Based on the fact that he was held in a cell, these aliens were not here for humanity's hope.

He tried to think of an escape plan.  

Except there didn’t seem to be any way of escape, since he learned that there was nothing accessable, not even the air vents. And the only other exposed space was…

… the claw chamber above.

Dismissing his other options, he sat down and waited patiently for the claw from above to come for him. Minutes seemed to stretch for hours, and to his luck and bad luck, a metal, dual-fingered claw stopped dead in its tracks above his cell. The Lone Wanderer squatted down and eyed it carefully.  

To his surprise, the claw shot down at an incredible speed, and twisted towards him. Before it lunged, The Wanderer took a leap of faith and grabbed the neck of it while it snapped at his previous location. He coiled his arms around the neck and tightened his muscles while the claw became still.

The metal claw then retracted to its vertical positioning and pulled itself back up, taking The Wanderer with it. With a small breath of relief and hand to his chest, he allowed his feet to rest on the metal claw as it ascended. As it came to a halt, he spotted the outer wall of his cell curve down to the hallway floor. Pushing himself back and forth, he leapt over and made contact with the smooth, white wall and slid down until his feet touched the floor. He looked back to the orange forcefield and glanced down the hallway he was in. All along both sides, he saw more cells with the same orange forcefields. He couldn’t bother counting the number of rooms, since there seemed to be too many. He brought his attention to the door that led to a room that was conjoined to his cell.

He shuffled into the room, which appeared to be a study, but filled more alien technology. On the opposite side, there was a green alien that was completely occupied with some sort of computing device on the wall. Using utmost caution, he crept behind little alien until he used his muscular arms to wrap around the alien’s thin neck.  

The alien’s neck offered no resistance.

The Wanderer spotted a strange container next to the body. After spending a few minutes to examine the lock, he opened it and found all of his gear was inside, including his blaster pistol.  Equipping himself with his armor, he stomped back out into the hallway and began improvising the next stage of his escape.

He walked past at least a hundred cells on both sides of the corridor. To him, seeing the first few inhabitants was just a guessing game. Some were empty and some held dead wastelanders, many that were killed in gruesome manners. Some of the wastelanders were still alive. 

Fidgeting with the control panels, he eventually discovered how to undo the force field, allowing him to free several wastelanders. Unfortunately, the survivor count was ten, including himself and a raider. Unsurprisingly, all of them turned to the Lone Wanderer. His power armor and weaponry gave him the air of authority, which the other escapees instantly recognized. The raider claimed that he was just “gonna go with the flow”.

At the Wanderer’s instruction, they all scrounged around for alien weapons from the nearby labs.  The Lone Wanderer himself did not wish to use alien weaponry; he was already fully equipped as is. All the survivors were equipped and they gathered around the Lone Wanderer, who was preparing to explain his plan of action to the worried group.

“Alright everyone, I have no clue as to what the hell is going on,” he said while he shook his head.  “Though reading and watching some of Captain Cosmos gave me some ideas on what to do.”  He thumped the back of his helmet.

“For all we know, we’re on some alien mothership. If we’re on a mothership, then there might be a method of evacuation if something goes wrong. So I say that we fight our way through the ship to find some escape pods and use them to return to Earth. We could also try to find some hangers, where they might hold smaller ships that we can hijack. So whatever we find first, we take it.”  

The rag-wearing wastelanders nodded their heads without much hesitation. The raider only gave a snort, to which the Lone Wanderer interpreted it as the same. All of them clenched their weapons tighter. They began to sweat as the Wanderer began his explanation.

“It seems like brute force is their weakness,” the Lone Wanderer advised, “I was able to kill one of the aliens barehanded with ease. So instead of wasting your ammo, give them a good whacking up close. These aliens are weaker than radroaches.” The raider grew a sinister smile.  “Other than that, stick together. Even if these guys are weak, they have numbers and weapons that we haven’t seen. So if everything goes right, we may all even make it out alive.”

Before one of the wastelanders could ask the Lone Wanderer a question, they heard shallow footsteps against metal grates and echoes of babbling. They turned to the source to see more little aliens, now wielding their blasters. The aliens took shots at the humans, but missed despite the advantage of the ambush.

“Return fire!”

The survivors raised their weapons and opened fire. Blue projectiles flew across the halls, illuminating the silver walls and burning the surfaces they impacted. The Lone Wanderer un-holstered his laser rifle, or “wazer wifle” as it was called, and returned fire with crimson beams. After a brief exchange, the last alien dropped dead from a lucky headshot.

“A big ‘fuck you!’ to all of your disgusting, green asses!” The raider said while flipping the finger towards the corpses. The Wanderer rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go!” The Lone Wanderer commanded before storming off to where the aliens came from.  The survivors promptly followed him and raced out of the prison chambers.

They rampaged through the various sections of the mothership. Whatever resistance they ran into was swiftly demolished. The Lone Wanderer could not help but be thankful for his armor after several energy bolts struck his helmet.  

Whenever alien beams managed to hit him, his armor simply absorbed the impacts. He was grateful that he did not have to feel whatever pain that could’ve been brought to him. He silently thanked his past self for deciding to take the T-51b power armor. At the same time he felt pity for those that didn't have the same privilege.

He watched his rag-tag team fight off the aliens. The wastelanders seemed to follow his lead by hiding behind cover or the corner of a thick wall. They operated their weapons amateurishly, jerking the trigger or aiming from the hip, which annoyed the Wanderer slightly. Then again, he had no clue how to properly operate the alien blasters either.  

The only person that seemed to know what he was doing was the raider, who fought viciously but recklessly. The raider shouted taunts and curses with each shot. The Wanderer silently hoped that the raider wouldn’t just try to turn on them at the end.

Despite having two casualties, everything seemed to actually be going well. Until they discovered what a drone was.

They arrived at the engine room which had a strange, humongous energy rod in the center.  Metal catwalks connected the areas that towered over the deep pits below. They met typical alien resistance, to which they engaged with them. Then a strange robot floated in from behind the alien horde with a glowing front tip.

The survivors shot at it regardless as it approached. Whatever damage was dealt to it was simply ignored. The Lone Wanderer grew suspicious when it’s tip lit up intensely. The tip grew bright blue and discharged an orb of electricity.  

Despite being made out of pure energy, the orb followed the rules of gravity and landed just in front of their group. It exploded violently, sending electricity in every direction while bringing disorientation to all the humans, including The Wanderer. Now seeing the new shift of power, they turned their attention to the Drone.

Every bullet and beam that made contact with the drone’s surface simply bounced away. They fired their weapons quicker to only find the same results.

“Hey!” The Lone Wanderer called to his posse. “Any of you have pulse grenades?!” All the people shouted ‘no’.  He silently cursed to himself. He contemplated before snapping his fingers and turning for a doorway on the left side.

“Guys! Follow me through here! We’re gonna try to lure that robot through the door!” He called while running for the doorway. Confused and out of options, they agreed and followed him through despite the raider’s protests.  

They immediately dashed to the right. The Lone Wanderer took cover around the corner, holstering his Wazer Wifle as his fellow survivors did the same.  

“I have an idea on how to take care of that thing,” he whispered while pulling out a sword from his backpack. “It’s a long shot, but better than nothing.”

He clutched a chinese sword tightly in his hands. The sword had a blood red hilt with detailed carvings along the handle. Along the blunt of the blade were white-marked square waves. There were no traces of rust, but evidence of use was still visible. A small clamp on the hilt suddenly made the blade run with intense lightning bolts that danced along the blade.  

This was a powerful trophy he earned from completing the Anchorage war simulation, Jingwei’s Shocksword.

They all waited anxiously to see what would happen. Moments passed as the drone wandered through the doorway, scanning every direction that could instigate escape. As soon as the floating robot came into his view, the Lone Wanderer twisted around, impaling the drone with his electrified sword.  

Utilizing the power armor’s strength, his own physical strength, and pure luck, the sword successfully pierced the drone’s alloy armor with little resistance. The Wanderer pushed the blade in deeper until the drone began spazz.  The drone shook, buzzed and beeped before collapsing to the floor with sparks escaping the drone’s broken circuitry.

The Lone Wanderer kicked the discarded robot away when the raider swooped in and fidgeted with the drone.  Finally, the raider slowly rose, holding the drone’s cannon underhanded with a large grin on his face.  Hearing no other drones arriving, the human survivors began their counterattack.

The wastelanders were getting more experienced. They no longer needed the Lone Wanderer’s command to take cover behind whatever they could find. The Wanderer watched from behind a pillar as his fellow survivors attacked in a more professional manner. He also watched the devastation unleashed by the raider’s drone cannon on a small cluster of aliens, scattering green alien blood and gore in every direction. 

He then saw that his fellow wastelanders were being pinned down by a group of aliens. He jumped from behind the pillar. He quickly aimed his Wazer Wifle, blasting the aliens that were too focused on the wastelanders. He frowned more and more whenever the crimson beams struck an alien’s head.

He felt rotten whenever a body and living thing ceased to live. To him, killing was a necessity whenever it came to survival. He constantly searched for alternatives, but in the end he would  find that he would have to resort to killing.

The Lone Wanderer converted the last alien to a pile of ash. “Hey, Brotherhood guy, you might wanna check this out,” a wastelander called out. Remembering his armor he wore, he jogged over to where he was needed.

“What’s going on over here?” The Lone Wanderer asked. He approached the small group of rag-tag wastelanders who were surrounding something. Two of them moved away, giving him a path.  They stood by waiting for him to assess the situation.

An alien was on his knees, groveling on the cold metal floor. He was unarmed and continuously waved his thin arms in front of himself, making some sort of halting gesture. His very muscles trembled as much as his head shook. He was constantly babbling in some sort of distressed tone with a worried look in his eyes.    

One of the wastelanders shrugged. “We were killing some of these aliens when this one showed up.  He had a pistol, but then he dropped it, fell to his knees and crawled to us like this.  Been doing this non-stop.” The Lone Wanderer crossed his arms and gave a disdained grunt.  The alien continued to babble while the man in steel armor closed his eyes. “What should we do?”

He has had moments when the people he fought suddenly dropped their weapons and begged for mercy. It was a hard thing to do; killing a person that begs. There were some people in the world that needed to die, or else they would simply inflict terror once more. Would these aliens be the same?  After all, they indiscriminately abducted humans without any form of attempted communication. Or were this alien’s pleas for life genuine?  

Sometimes he would make begging raiders swear that they would never do anything harmful again. 

“I think we should just let him l-”

*Zzzz!*

Before the Lone Wanderer could even give an answer, an orb of electricity bounced itself in front of the trembling alien. The alien’s expression shot up and desperately grabbed for an overstretched hand that offered him redemption.

Only to find none.

*ZAAAP!*

All the humans witnessed the alien’s last, terrified face before it exploded into a fog of flimsy limbs and green mist. The blood scattered in all directions, staining the glass and metal around with a pseudo grass color. The wastelanders covered their faces with their arms while the Lone Wanderer simply stood with his body unfazed. But unknowingly to his peers, his face widened in shock.

“The fucker deserved it!” They all heard the raider’s gruff voice, turning to watch him walk to the little gore pile with his drone cannon. “Motherfuckers probed me, so they don’t get to live! And I don’t think I’m the only one here!” Several of the wastelanders looked away, rubbing various locations of their body.

“Umm,”  one of the wastelanders rubbed his chin. “That was a bit extreme.” A small hiss left the raider’s teeth and tongue.

“Whatever man, if they really wanted peace for us, then we would’ve already had it,” he answered with disdain. 

The Lone Wanderer clenched his fists tightly before loosening them along with a deep breath.  He stomped towards the exit which the reinforcements arrived from.

“Let’s get going,” The Lone Wanderer suggested. “We should keep moving before more of those robots show up.”


***







***


“C’mon!  I have things to do and places to be!” The Courier complained while smacking the pilot’s steering wheel in front of him, making the sound of a car horn. “Let’s get a move on!  I’ve been waiting here for like… five minutes now! A space launch shouldn’t take this long!”

Currently he was in the cockpit of the tall shuttle, sitting down with his back against a black chair, giving him a clear view of the afternoon sky.  He sat in a rather tall chamber, with a ladder on the floor allowing him to climb up to the seat. The control panels were filled with a variety of switches and buttons, almost tempting the impatient Courier to his favourite hobby, “pushing all the shiny buttons and seeing what happens”.

“I swear those asinine fools cannot get their heads straight,” a mechanical, masculine voice grumbled from the seat next to the Courier’s. “If our plans get delayed, then when I return, I will burn them first before the world!” His tone suddenly changed to a psychotic state.   

The Courier looked over to see….a toaster strapped into the pilot’s seat next to his.

“I know, right!” The Courier loudly agreed while slamming his seat cushion. “I mean, Captain Cosmos never had to wait in a DMV or anything else longer than that to get into space! We’re going to the fucking moon, not a world of cartoons!”

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I am lacking limbs...” the Toaster muttered. “I would get off of this shuttle and burn them for making me wait!” The Toaster’s voice then shot up again.    

Toaster was just a normal toaster, except for his ability to talk, and endless desire to burn the world...again. Toaster was also known for his nickname, “The Boogeyman of Toasters,” until he defeated “The Boogeymen of Hotplates and Pressure Cookers,” to which he became “The Boogeyman of All Kitchen Appliances.” The Courier burned stuff with Toaster and in return Toaster would allow him to roast artificially grown marshmallows.

The two strange astronauts waited patiently (and impatiently)for… anything, really. The Courier passed time by reading his Grognak the Barbarian and Tales of Chivalry comics. He played jazz music through his Pipboy while kicking his feet on top of the steering wheel. He did every method of entertainment he could think of, including “Stick-the-grenade-in-the-toaster”. Unfortunately for the Courier, the Toaster melted the grenade before detonation.

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*  

Out of nowhere, a strange tapping on the metal interior was heard. After scanning the chamber below, the Courier shrugged it off as his head messing with him. Just as he was about to the cliffhanger of his comic, he heard it again, this time it came back louder.

*Thump!! Thump!! Thump!!*

“That noise is really graveling me!” The Toaster hissed.

The Courier closed the book calmly and looked over to Toaster and the chamber below in a etiquette-like, almost jokingly manner. “Do the two of you mind?!” He said in a sophisticated tone. “I am trying to read here! I would ask if the both of you would hush down.”

*Thump!!! Thump!!! Thump!!!*

“Alright, that’s it!”  The Courier exclaimed while reaching for the ladder. “What the hell is making that noise? A hitchhiker? Missionaries? Pizza delivery guy? (Of course, he did grin at this possible suspect) The Think Tank?”

Setting his comic books onto the seat and dufflebag onto a nearby coat hanger, he descended the ladder while holstering his Matter Modulator onto his back. With a light grip, he climbed down  with no regard for anything that could possibly go wrong. Suddenly, the interiors shook along with a faint roar that sounded from the outside.  

“Oh sh-!”

The shuttle shook until the Courier lost his grip on the ladder, causing him to fall halfway down.  For moments, he felt himself just fall everywhere, almost zero gravity. But this snippet of zero-gravity is cut short when he landed on the floor-door with a hard thud. He gave a quick yelp of pain, and went to groan.  

He laid on his back looking up towards the cockpit and the little closet on the right wall.  He slowly began to sit up, when suddenly the closet door of the chamber slammed open, alerting him and the ranting Toaster.

A huge, flying insect emerged from inside the closet. It flew with large amber wings and blood red eyes. It’s body was a dark-blue carapace with a dangerous looking stinger at the tip of it’s abdomen.  It’s overall appearance was an intimidating sight, to which the Courier was in it’s sight. The Mojave special: The cazador.

“Oh c’mon!” The Courier exclaimed while the cazador zig-zaged towards him. Not even seconds later, the giant insect was right at his face, giving him little to no time to reach for his weapons. He quickly grabbed the cazador by the head, struggling to repel the vicious being. He quickly watched it’s huge abdomen push out it’s razor-sharp stinger that was practically dripping with venom.

“Eugh, gross!” The Courier groaned while his facial muscles clenched. “First there’s radscorpion-gross, then there’s Joshua’s actual face kind-of-gross, then there’s… this!”  

He was absolutely appalled from getting a closer look at the cazador. They continued to wrestle around; clearly this was no ordinary cazador, for the Courier would’ve been able to repel him with more ease.  

A small sniff of the air in front of the cazador caused the Courier’s nose to retract. “Eugh, you need some mouthwash, or a breath mint at least!  Cheap? You can buy it for a few caps at your local general store? Satisfaction is guaranteed?”

All of a sudden, something stuck the cazador from above. While it managed to injure it, it knocked it down just enough for the stinger to puncture the Courier in the arm. The Courier gave a yelp of pain, before using his rage to overpower the bug and thrusted it towards the wall.  Despite it being slammed, the cazador managed to balance itself in the air afterwards. The Courier then saw what hit the cazador.

His eyes catched a long, maple staff that didn’t show much deterioration from mold and rot. At the end of the pole was a gold-plated, metal eagle statuette in a pose of mid-flight. The Courier recognized it as a gift that was given to him by the same person who gave him “Old World Justice.” He saw the pole as Old Glory, a beautiful staff that no one imagined to be used for a different purpose.

He quickly grabbed the staff and held it in his hands with pride. Eyes narrowed at the recovering cazador, the swung with all his available strength in the small space. The bronze eagle scraped and smashed the exoskeleton of the cazador, wearing him down from his healthy state. Again and again, he batted the cazador as more green blood splattered on the white walls and floor.  

Suddenly, he could hear a roar from a mighty but strange explosion. The explosion sounded to be consisted of thousands of smaller ones, all happening consecutively to give the illusion of one big explosion occurring.  The shuttle shook considerably more, causing the Courier to partially lose his balance. Then the Courier felt himself to be… heavier.

“Huh? What did you guys do?!”

His knees and legs had more pressure on them. His entire body felt like it was being weighed down by an invisible burden that seemed to crush him more and more. His resistance slowly gave in, causing him to kneel down further and further until he felt himself lying on the ground, being crushed by a strange force.

“Go home gravity… you’re drunk!” The Courier commented on the strange force. He struggled but managed to bring his left arm by his head. Tapping around his Pipboy, he finally got what he wanted.

“Hey!  Eggheads!” He called into his Pipboy. “What the hell is going on here?! Why am I being crushed to the ground?!”  

He waited until he finally heard several voices now muffled via speakers. The Think Tank was able to modify his Pipboy so it now was a communicator, a luxury to those in the wastes.

“Well that is because we are in lift-off!” Dr. 0 informed. “Didn’t we tell you?”

“No!”  The Courier answered. “And speaking of, why the hell are Borous’ show-and-tell pets inside the shuttle?” He heard the Think Tank bicker with one another before hearing Borous take the center.

“Because I’d be mad if I were to simply sit out on this opportunity!” Dr. Borous explained.  “I am dying to see cazadores… in space! Space cazadores will be my new, genius creation! And I’m sure they won’t bother you; they’re harmless!” The distressed Courier rolled his eyes as he felt his limbs tremble more.

He mustered the strength to bring up his right arm. His eyes shot open at the open wound and blood spilt around.

“Shit!”

He gritted his teeth while he slowly crawled to the ladder. He grasped a rung in his hands and reached for the one above. His eyes focused on his duffle bag that hanged innocently on the coathanger. The world became more blurred and his hearing became more muffled. His arms felt weaker by the second and his grip loosened. Nevertheless, adrenaline pushed through his body as he ascended the ladder one rung at a time.  

Time seemed to pass slowly while his grasp on reality was fading. The shuttle continued to roar and shake endlessly as the Courier hanged desperately on the ladder. Minutes sluggishly passed as his climbing pace slowed down with every breath. His eyes eventually struggled to stay halfway open, and his fingers on his hand straightened out.

“Screw...you…..physics,” he rasped while his eyes were nearly shutting.

Suddenly the enhanced gravity gave in. In fact, all gravity seemed to give in. All the extra weight that burdened the Courier just disappeared. All weight seemed to vanish in a few moments. The Courier’s lifeless expression erupted back to life when he realized that he was now flying upwards.

“Woah! Holy crap! Okay gravity, you’re waaaaay drunk! You need rehab!”  

He spun out of control. He fell in every direction, to which he simply rolled in the air with no control. He drifted towards the cockpit which he could vaguely make out while spinning around.  Finally, he felt himself land on the thick windows of the cockpit.

Through his groggy view, he saw his dufflebag exactly where he left it. Using all of his energy, he frantically searched the inside of it until he brought out a clay vial. He held it to his mouth, but strangely the liquid inside didn’t flow out normally, instead he had to shake the contents out. As soon as he finished the last drop, the whole word seemed to come racing back to him in a jiffy.  

“Sweet, sweet antivenom…” He deeply thanked.

“We have done phase one!” He heard the Toaster announce. “Look beyond, as this is just one of many parts of my grand schemes!”

“Huh?”  

The Courier then bothered to look outside and couldn’t believe that he was still alive to see it. Instead of a crisp, blue sky, there was a blanket of jet black, with stars dotting around without pattern. They twinkled and glittered as tiny dots of light. After his mind put the pieces together, an enormous smile grew in the Courier’s face.

“BOOOYAAAHHH!!”

“Aaaaannnd we just passed the Karman border!” He heard Dr.0 announce.

“Holy hell, I’m in space!! The first mailman in space! This is awesome!” And he went on to do what any child would’ve done in zero gravity; fool around.

He jumped, spun, drank, ate and flipped around in zero gravity. He savored, lavished and enjoyed these precious moments of actually living a laughable dream in a dreadful time. He had a blast.

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*  

His time of play was halted when he heard more noise, this time from behind the door at the bottom of the chamber. He tried to contact the Think Tank, but they were too busy bickering to give him an answer. He tuned in until he finally got who he wanted.

“Hey, 8,” he said with a grin.

“*!@#$%$^@!$!!%%@^?*” Strange static came from his Pipboy.

“Listen 8, the Think Tank won’t tell me what is actually on this ship. Borous said that cazadores were on this thing, but what else is really on it?”

“*$%@#$^@%@%^^#^#@”, $@!%$^@^@^$@^@, !$!#$^*()”

“Oh shit, really?” The Courier asked while rubbing his chin. “Man, what do I do?”

“Ah yes, my lovely teddy bears are on as well,” he suddenly heard Dr. Dala chime in. “They wanted so desperately to join in on the fun. And how could I say ‘no’ to teddy bear eyes?”

“Guys, how do you manage to fit all this stuff in thi-?” The Courier attempted to ask, before being cut off.

“Mwahahaha! You lousy Think Tank!” He heard a voice he didn’t hear very often.  

The Courier lifted an eyebrow. “Mobius?”

“Did you really think you could continue your experiments for escaping my wrath? Did you think you were safe in your spacecraft?” Dr. Mobius taunted. “Well I say otherwise! My technologically superior Robo-scorpions have snuck onto your little cardboard rocket! And now, they are Robo-scorpions 3.0 because they are now in zero-gravity! You are no longer safe in there Think Tank! Face the intergalactic wrath of Dr. Mobius! Muwahahahaha!”

“Annnd add robo-scorpions to that list,” the Courier casually said to himself. Probably on a mentat-psycho spree… again.

He rubbed his chin. Keeps reminding me of those sarsparilla-whiskey rampages I get...

He dropped his thoughts before enthusiastically springing his arms out a moment later.  

“Woohoo!  Zero-gravity action!”  

“Seeya Toaster, I’ll be taking care of some… things,” he waved to his fellow co-pilot. He floated to his stray Q-35 and Old Glory, hoisting them on the back of his duster perpendicularly. He kicked his way down the chamber while the shuttle drifted aimlessly in space.  

“I shall manage our malignant exodus!” The Toaster replied. 

Before slamming on the floor, he latched onto the underside door handle, hanging on it with a light grip.  He brought his other hand around, twisting the latch until the door creaked open, leading to the cargo bay next to the pilot’s chamber. After opening the door, he carefully lifted himself in, releasing his grip on the door handle to see what was in store for him.
  
He hovered into a larger, much wider chamber that held the same platinum-wall color as the cockpit. 

All around in a swarm of insects, were yellow and red robotic radscorpions. Their edges were sharper, their stinger looked more like a blaster, and their faces were covered with buttons.  Their little legs and tails creeped helplessly as their A.I.s attempted to adjust to the situation.

The Courier grinned as his two hands reached his waists. His hands re-emerged, each with a weapon in his grasps.  One was a pearl-gripped, silver-plated revolver with a black club sigil.  The other was a strange cylindrical pistol with pilot lights, an oscilloscope, and a strange plate at the end that resembled a speaker.  

“This is gonna be sooo like an action movie…” He said with a smile.

He aimed his dual pistols at the robot-scorpion that was in front of him. Pulling both triggers, he unleashed sounds of gunpowder and sound frequencies.  Bullets and sonic waves dashed across the cargo-chamber until they made contact with several robo-scorpions on the way, scraping their armor and tearing their wires apart.  

All the robo-scorpions in the room turned their attention to the shooting Courier, and he didn’t seem to mind, he just shot faster.

Blue laser beams darted across the entire room in all directions. The robo-scorpions used their flexible tails to aim towards the Courier, who was happily shooting and destroying them. Despite their increased mobility, the zero gravity made it difficult for them to get a clear shot. Even having dozens of robo-scorpions in the same room, shooting at him, wasn’t enough to intimidate the Courier.

“This. Is. Awesome!!”

After destroying a robo-scorpion, leaving it’s cold hull to float around, the Courier reloaded his revolver, Lucky. Through putting in the last round, a robo-scorpion managed to float close towards his arm. Using it’s stinger, it blasted his arm with a blue ray, giving him a yelp of pain and a burn wound. Before he could repel the attack, the robo-scorpion used it’s mechanical pincers to latch onto the Courier’s arm, making him scream in more pain.

“You stupid robo-” he wrathfully muttered before forcefully ripping the scorpion off and throwing him into a small cluster of robo-scorpions.  

“If you like me that much, you should ask for an autograph or photo!  50 caps up front!” He loudly taunted.

He grabbed his floating revolver, locking the cylinder back into the chamber, and continued to fire Lucky and his Sonic Emitter. He became elated when he managed to destroy two robo-scorpions using each different pistol.  

“Double kill,” he narrated himself. He went and fired both pistols on a closing robo-scorpion. The lights of it shut down and the stinger ceased to aim further.

“Triple kill.”

He switched to his Q-35 and blasted a robo-scorpion with a surge of plasma, causing it to buzz profusely, then combust, separating its arms and tail.

“Overkill.”

He released his pistols mid-air, causing them to levitate near his head. Doing so, he grabbed the tail of a nearby robo-scorpion and twisted his body around, causing the robot to fly and crash into more robo-scorpions, disorientating the floating land-bots even more.  

“Killing spree!!”

The Courier continued to massacre the robo-scorpions in space. Soon enough, half of the first cargo chamber was filled with floating, dead, metal scorpions. The Courier shouted in glee as he prepared to engage more zero-gravity fighting, savoring the experience of space-combat.

“Let’s get it to Unfrigginbelievable!”


***







***


Pain.

Pain was what all the Lone Wanderer could feel.

Being hanged up by cuffs suspending in forcefield, his struggle for escape proved meaningless. He could only look down at his alien captors and their shock batons.

“GAAAAAAHHH!!!!”  

One of the aliens stabbed the shock rod into the Wanderer’s armor. Though it did not pierce it, the armor acted as a perfect conductor for the volts that transferred. Shards of electricity danced with each other across the steel hydraulics and adjustors of the Wanderer’s T-51b.  

The Wanderer’s eyes were clenched shut, as well as his jaw. His teeth gritted heavily as his whole body suddenly ceased then functioned in a never ending loop.  His mind shut down and rebooted with each bolt of lightning that passed through his brain. He felt his body heat up then suddenly cool down. He screamed at the reality that he was literally being fried in his own armor.

Then it stopped.

The feeling of pain running through his body halted. His stuck up head now laid low, watching his captors give him a taste of limbo before sending him to purgatory.  He groaned deeply and took loud breaths as his alien captors babbled to him, to which he couldn’t understand one bit. He glared daggers at them as they looked at him expectantly.

“Fuck. You.” He slowly hissed through the gaps of his teeth.

The other alien babbled to his torturer to thrust the shock baton into his pelvis. The Wanderer clenched his fists again, preparing for more. The Pitt was worse… he commented in his mind.

He glanced towards the open door behind his alien enemies. His eyes were filled with hope and guilt when he saw one of the wasteland survivors dash in and whack his torturer with his rifle.  He wielded it as a baseball bat as green blood splurted out into the dirty air. His other alien captor witnessed the scuffle, and pulled out his box-like pistol.

“Look out!” The Wanderer warned.

The Wanderer watched a staple-shaped projectile fling across the stainless room. While the blue projectile failed to injure anything critical, it managed to strike the wastelander’s forearm. The wastelander clutched his arm and fell to the floor, groaning to the newfound pain. The Wanderer struggled to break free as he saw the alien run up to the groveling man, alien blaster in hand, pointing at the head.  

The Wanderer could only watch, feeling useless as the alien grabbed the shock baton from his fallen comrade and jabbed it into the wastelander. The wastelander screamed, body jolting around, flesh flashing in a blue hue. The Wanderer, now grinding his teeth, groaned as he used all of his strength to try to break free of the levitating shackles. Time didn’t matter as the screaming and the shocking went on… and on… and on… and on.

His ears caught the sounds of a blaster discharging from the hall. He looked down to see another wastelander, short and blackhaired, fire nearly point-blank at the alien. Two balls of energy impacted the alien’s skull. The alien dropped the baton and fell back. Along the way, the alien’s body dissipated in a cyan tint, to which the Wanderer could see through several gaps in the alien. Finally, the alien was converted to a pile of ash in it’s last screams.

The Wanderer’s breathing slowed as he gazed to the steaming pile of ash, the wastelander who laid across the floor, and the one who ran in front of him.

“Are you alright?” The man asked the one hanging in power armor.

“I’m fine! Use that console to get me down!” The Wanderer commanded while nodding his head towards the controls that were on a counter. The wastelander ran and began pressing random buttons until the Wanderer fell flat onto the cold floor with a loud thud. He felt the rescuing wastelander touch his armor.  

The Wanderer had difficulty standing up. His disabled servo joints were powering back on, making for stiff movement for the armor. His real joints were even stiffer from the soreness that came with the shocking. His skin felt seared, but not burnt like charcoal, but it stung continuously with the contact with the padding of the armor.      

“How did you get caught?” The wastelander asked.

“Grgh, some aliens got the jump on me,” the Wanderer explained while he held his arm against the floor. “The armor short-circuited from the baton, and they dragged me here.”  

The Wanderer finally stood up and he stumbled backwards and leaned against the wall.  Shaking his head, he retained his balance and movement, but still felt traces of soreness and dizziness. He grabbed his backpack and battery pack off of a nearby table. His eyes caught the sight of the motionless wastelander and rushed over.

Kneeling down, he rolled the body over. He examined the pulse, called out to him and shook his upper body. The wastelander was not responsive. Silently cursing, the Wanderer carefully shut the wastelander’s eyes before standing back up with his fists clenched.

“We just lost him,” the Wanderer hissed.

The wastelander gave a sigh before pulling out a strange device with a long needle. “Here, you need a stim?”

The Wanderer turned around and looked down at what he identified as a stimpak. His hand slowly opened before his eyes caught a stain of blood on the wastelander’s shoulder.  

The Lone Wanderer shook his head while holding his hand out.  

“You need it more. I already have some stimpaks,” he insisted. Shrugging, the wastelander jammed the needle of the stimpak through the rags of his arm, giving a relaxed breath as the fluids injected.

Before leaving, the Wanderer picked up a strange, hourglass-shaped device with clusters of miniature holes on one end. He realized that there was a massive pile of the same device in the corner of the room that they were just in.

The man he was with informed him of what happened since he was captured. The man then ran ahead at the sight of his fellow survivors surrounding two more aliens, both in the same begging posture.  The Wanderer fiddled with the device until a button clicked.

“Where am I?  Where’s my sister?”  The voice of a little girl called from the device.

The Lone Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks, looking at what he now identified as a recorder.

“I can hear some weird noises, but I can’t see you. Why is it so dark in here?  What’s this machine? Please… someone talk to me!”


The Wanderer only breathed through his nostrils.

“I want to go home! Please! Where’s my mommy and daddy?!  I just wanna go home!”


The sounds of a bright light switching on and whirrs of machinery came from the speaker. The Wanderer’s teeth grinded.

“OW! That’s bright!  Ugh… wait… what? OH MY GOD! NOOOOOOO! Stay away from me!  GET AWAY!”

*Click!*  

The Wanderer now held the device by his waist. His fingers coiled around the recorder. His hand muscles and fingers pushed to the point where he felt wetness at the palm of his hand. His hand shook vigorously. The device crumbled into a mess of ripped wires and shattered circuits.  

One step at a time, the Wanderer stomped towards the group of survivors. The sounds of air swerving through his nose emanated from the helmet.  His hand slowly ridded itself of broken technology. One of the wastelanders saw the Wanderer’s approach and ran up to meet him.

“Hey, we just found two more of them, what sh-” The Wanderer walked right past the wastelander without eye contact, who looked at him with confusion.

The Wanderer stood in front of the first alien, who was babbling and begging all around.  The wastelanders noticed his arrival and looked at him while the one from before asked him again.  

“Hey, what should we do-”

His question was halted when he saw the Wanderer lift his leg into the air. The Wanderer looked down towards the alien, who was too busy groveling towards the metal floor.  His foot was parallel towards the ground as he moved it over.  

“You motherfuckers…” He growled through his shut teeth.

“...ARE ALL GOING TO PAY!!!”  

His bloodied voice echoed through the halls of the mothership.

The Lone Wanderer’s heavy foot descended upon the alien’s skull. The alien was beginning to look up towards the Wanderer when he caught the view of the Wanderer’s boot sole.  The alien’s head slammed into the floor from the Wanderer’s foot.  The Wanderer’s suit didn’t stop there.

Instead of resting his foot on the alien’s head, he pushed down further.  

*KKSSGGH!*

The weight of the armor proved to be too much for the fragile skull, and sunk through the alien’s head. The alien’s flailing arms and legs ceased to move. The Wanderer’s foot dropped deeper and deeper through the bowl of gore until a clang was heard. The wastelanders watched in awe, while the other alien watched in horror, and fell onto it’s back.

After a second of silence, the Wanderer used his other foot in assistance for the removal.  The foot emerged from the alien’s head, now covered with grass-green blood and brains.  The Wanderer’s head suddenly turned towards the other alien, who waved his arms in front of himself while turning away, shutting his eyes.  

The Wanderer took only two steps until he was directly in front of the begging alien. The alien looked to him with space-black eyes, now practically screaming in the language for mercy. The Wanderer’s hand formed into a cup, and lunged down, catching the alien’s thin neck. The metal arm rose up, taking the alien with it. The alien waved its arms around, hitting the armor with no effect.

“At least raiders and slavers saw some sort of value in human life, if very little…” The Wanderer mumbled.  He then brought the alien’s face up close to his, to which the alien could not read the eyes hidden behind the thick visor.

The Wanderer turned himself as he violently slammed the alien’s head into the steel wall.  The alien gave a shriek of pain as it continued to babble in it’s unknown language.  Again and again, the Wanderer thrashed the alien’s head against the wall.  It’s pleas for aid gradually toned down until silence came to it.  The alien’s arms drooped down as the Wanderer made one, final push.

“While you all saw none!!”

The alien’s skull popped like a balloon. Blood and gore scattered and stained the wall as the alien’s head was practically no more than a slab of sick flesh. The Wanderer, whose arm was now covered with the same stain as his foot, threw the stick-like corpse to the ground.

The wastelanders looked at him with dropped jaws and eyes with oceans of white.  The halls were completely silent, aside from the Wanderer’s heavy breathing. Everyone stared at him awkwardly while the Lone Wanderer stared at them, expecting no objections from them.

“That was… that was a bit more extreme,” one of the wastelanders commented.

The Wanderer ignored the statement, and marched away, continuing their trek through the mothership.  The wastelanders looked at the Wanderer from behind, still taking in what they have just seen.
  
“They’re all going to pay,” he muttered under his breath.  “They are all going to pay…”


***







***


“ATTENTION! ATTENTION! TO WHOEVER IS LISTENING TO BIG MOUNTAIN’S FIRST SPACE BROADCAST!” Dr. Klein’s caps-lock tone yelled through the Courier’s Pipboy. “THE TELEPORTATION PROTOTYPE IS NOW ACTIVATING IN THE STUPID SPACESHIP!  ALL LOBOTOMITES WITH HAND AND FOOT PENSISES SHOULD REPORT TO THE CONTROLS OF THE STUPID SHUTTLE!”  

“Aww. I almost got the ordinance and the attack chopper...”

Getting the loud message, the Courier then attempted to return back to the cockpit while blue beams continued to fire at him. He looked back to the persistent robo-scorpions. 

“You guys didn’t have to make this a ‘farewell’ party,” he commented with a smile. A cyan laser burned the hair strand next to his ear. “No really! You didn’t have to!”

Using the metal bars along the walls, the Courier shot himself up towards the door leading to the control chamber.  Reaching the door handle, he then threw himself up into the pilot’s chamber, to which he could hear Toaster.

“For the second time, I command you fools to move your vessel!”  He heard the Toaster rant.  “Or otherwise I will lay destruction and pain to everyone you knew and loved!”

The Courier floated himself back to his seat to delve in on the situation.  “What’s wrong Toaster?”  He asked, but his question was already answered when he saw what was outside the window.  

A strange, but tiny, disk-shaped vessel was simply floating around in outer space with lit windows and flashing lights. The shuttle slowly drifted towards it without any means of evasion.

“Here, lemme try something,” he calmly suggested while adjusting himself into his seat. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Hey! Asshole! Move it!”  He yelled.

*Honk! Honk!*

“We got places to be and things to do!  Get out of the way!”

While he ranted with Toaster, a strange blue light emanated from the nose of the shuttle. The glow illuminated the white paint of the shuttle and the two (incompetent) pilots. The light grew larger and brighter. The stars around them slowly spun around, almost forming new constellations in the night sky. They failed to notice any change at all.

“Hey! I’m flyin’ here! I’m flyin’ here!”

They also didn’t notice that the rear of the shuttle suddenly roared, causing it’s hulls to vibrate, and the space-disk to rapidly grow in size.


***







***
  

“Why…”

The Lone Wanderer sat in the captain’s seat.

The bridge of the mothership was silent. Scattered around were many chairs and control consoles that he thought was too dangerous to fidget with. Lying around those very places were piles of steaming ash and dismembered alien. The only sounds that accompanied the Wanderer was the whirring of the machinery and the beeps of the controls.

He only looked down at the dull, gray floor. He had nothing else to look at, and he certainly didn’t want to look at Earth anymore.

What was once a gorgeous, blue marble, was now nightmarishly the opposite. Instead of the lush, green vegetation that covered the continents, was the sickly, dead brown from when all of it suddenly died. The rich oceans and seas were a sickly green. The blue, atmospheric blanket, was now morphed to the same color of the poisoned water.
 
The Wanderer could not help but mourn.  Here was a beautiful, possibly one-of-a-kind planet, filled with rich life and culture, was now dead.  Everything was gone.  Humanity has allowed their most precious gift to simply taint for now and forever.  He never thought he would be in space, but now he can only see regret, adding more regret than he already had for his comrades.

All the people he rescued from the alien prisons were gone. His wastelander, rag-tag team was defunct. While he didn’t notice, one-by-one, members of their posse began to die. The mothership was bigger than anticipated, which gave time for more survivors to fall. When he arrived at the door to the bridge, it was only him, alone. They trusted their lives in his hands, and he let them slip away.

He had failed to save them. He felt deep regret for not doing so. His heart ached from each person he had failed on this mothership. Even the raider, he held high salutes for. The raider died while holding off a mob of attack drones, giving the survivors precious time to destroy and escape the drone factory. Even though he despised the raider’s methods of ‘fun,’ he forgave him for following the virtue that he himself has already demonstrated.  

At least the alien’s reign of terror was finally over. No more abductions or cruel experiments.

He could not help but remember his father. And the Enclave. And Colonel Autumn. And Project Purity. And Vault 101…

He clenched his fists. “Dammit…” His eyes were on the verge of tears.

The Lone Wanderer was lost. For once, his Pipboy did not hold instructions on what to do next.  Elder Lyons wasn’t there to give him another assignment. Sarah wasn’t there to make some snappy joke. Amata wasn’t there to invite him to some shenanigans. James wasn’t there to guide him…

He had no clue what to do next. All the aliens in the ship were now dead, leaving the Lone Wanderer the only living thing in the suspended vessel. Should he just go back to Earth and pretend nothing happened?  Should he try to bring this technology back to the Brotherhood?  Should he just… leave? Explore… the vast universe?  This ship certainly proved that there was much more out there than Earth.

The Lone Wanderer gave a sigh and rested his hands on his helmet.  “Just wh-”

*Beep! Beep! Beep!*

“Huh?”

*Beep! Beep! Beep!*

An alarm broke the dreadful silence of the empty bridge. The Wanderer lifted his head, eyes scanning the large room for the source of the noise. He identified it at a distant console. He plodded over to the controls and seated himself in the flexible chair. He examined the series of buttons before locating a red button that corresponded to the alarm with each flicker.

Pushing it, an orange hologram materialized above the desk, causing the Lone Wanderer to slouch back, catching it in full view. He recognized hologram as the mothership, designed in those typical, sci-fi entertainment holotapes, a saucer shape. But one thing stood out from this cliche design.

Heading towards the jaw of the front of the mothership was a strange, red object. The red object was in the distinctive shape of a long tube, barely making out some fins that protruded out from the bottom base of the tube. The front end of the tube concentrated to the shape of a cone with a rounded nose. It’s speed increased as it drew closer and closer to the hull of the mothership.  

The Lone Wanderer’s eyes sprang open and gave an open gasp. “Is… is that a-”  

He gulped while sweat trickled from his forehead.  His jaw trembled down along with his arms and legs, to which he saved himself from falling off of the chair by using his arm.

“Oh my god…”


***







***


Dusk came to the lands of Equestria. The magnificent city of Canterlot stood tall against the peak of a mountain. The elaborate marble architecture took on the relaxing hue of the darkening sky.

The ruler of the sun, Princess Celestia, was navigating through the labyrinth of a palace.  Her slender limbs felt worn as bags formed underneath her eyes.  She talked with a slow pace, and she greeted every guard with less and less voice until the final guard, to which she gave a nod afterwards.  Despite all of this, she mustered the strength to smile at the sight of her sister in the royal dining room.

She approached her sister, who was poking at a cardboard box that stood on the table.  “Hello Luna,” she greeted.

Luna held her head low against the fancy tablecloth, poking at a box with colorful, cartoonish art on it.  Her ears perked and she turned with open eyes to her groggy sister.  “Hey ‘Tia,” she said back with a grin.

Celestia raised an eyebrow when Luna poked the rectangular box again.  “What are you doing?”

“We… I mean I am currently investigating this… thing,” she said while giving the box a shake.  “This is supposed to be a modern meal for the break from the fast?” Celestia let out a mature giggle.

“Sister, that is cereal.”  

Luna cocked her head to the side. “Seer-e-al?” Celestia giggled again.

“Here,” she said while her horn glowed a sunlight yellow. “Let me show you.”  

The cereal box was engulfed with an aura of the same color. The tabs of the box cut themselves loose and folded back, revealing the colorful contents on inside.  Still keeping a small smug, Celestia then poured the rainbow-color grains into the milk-filled bowl in front of Luna until it was filled to the brim. “It’s easy.”

Luna gave a miniscule gasp as Celestia stared at her with amusement. The dark blue alicorn then crossed her forelegs and looked away with a pout.  

“I’ll have you know, I was just… testing you!” Luna claimed.

Celestia laughed at her sister’s embarrassment. “Well then, I hope you enjoy your breakfast. I’m going to call it a day. Good night.”

“Mmm, night.”  Before Celestia moved past Luna, the breakfast-eating alicorn stooped her head up from slurping her cereal.  Her expression became solid as her eyes kept a fixed view on the cereal.  “Tia’,” she said, making her sun sister stop in her tracks.

“I… just have this feeling.”

Celestia twisted her head towards Luna.  “Feeling, Luna?”

She nodded.  “I… there… it’s hard to describe,” she stammered, stirring her cereal with her levitating spoon. “I… was sleeping when something… I don’t know what.  Saw something?  Just an omen?”

“What do you think is going to happen?”  

A small clang echoed in the dining room from a spoon being dropped against the side of the bowl. “W- I don’t know. A disturbance? A miracle? I have no clue, but something is sure to occur.”  

Celestia starred off towards the crude paintings that represented Equestria’s history, and resembled the glass murals in the throne room. One was the banishment of Nightmare Moon. She frowned at the first before smiling at another painting of six ponies who defeated her in her return. The next set was of the same sort, except instead of Nightmare Moon, it was Discord. The third individual painting was of a union of a pink princess and a guard.

“If you are sure that something shall happen soon, then I trust your judgement. I shall take caution,” she said before walking off towards another door. Luna gained a grin as she heard the creaks of the door opening. Her grin erupted into a giggle as she heard the falling of water.

Celestia stood still as she found herself to be taking a sudden shower. Her waving, pastel mane was now flattened by cold water. Her head and sights were now obscured by the steel of a bucket.  The water dripped from the princess’ side and onto the carpet floor.  Luna, who had the biggest grin she could have, looked innocently towards her cereal bowl.

“Is that what you mean by ‘something is going to happen?”  Celestia asked while looking ahead.

“Maybe…” Luna snickered.  

Celestia gained a sinister smile.  “I’ll get you…”



> Chapter 2: Confusion, Randomness, or Curiosity?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Lone Wanderer tripped onto the floor, again. 

He couldn’t help but fall every five seconds, which is the same rate that the mothership shook vigorously.  Ever since the supposed missile struck the hull, the whole space vessel was practically falling apart. Loud alarms buzzed while red lights converted the bright bridge to the red hue of alert. The Wanderer could hear the faint explosions from far sections of the ship.

“What the hell?”

Determined to figure out what was happening, he stumbled over towards the hologram after he rose up. He barely caught himself with the table after losing balance from a large tremor. He looked up at the hologram, where various parts were now blinking red; The engine room, the pipelines connecting to the front of the ship, and the sections below the bridge. 

Strangely, the missile was still lodged into the bottom hull according to the hologram map. To the Wanderer, it looked like it was digging in deeper.

Damnit! I gotta get out of here, he thought while stumbling back through the living quarters.  

The halls and floors shook with each new combustion. Closer explosions knocked the panels off of the ceiling and walls, exposing the rivers of wires and pipes that flowed underneath. The Lone Wanderer could not help but be impressed at the complex systems that allowed the mothership to stay afloat.

More explosions rocked the halls as the Wanderer spotted a group of radscorpions approaching from the distant doorways. He gave a sigh as his hand reached to the battery pack that he carried.

“Shouldn’t you guys…”

*Click!*  

A small door opened on the bottom of the Wanderer’s battery pack, dropping out a small minigun that was connected to the inside using a thick wire. The Wanderer’s hands barely caught it as he brought it in front of himself.

“...Be trying to escape?”

The Wanderer held the weapon in a similar fashion to the Raider’s drone cannon. Instead of a glowing tip, there was a thick barrel of a gun. The hull was constructed with carbon-fibers and wire instead of alien steel and buttons. The Wanderer’s most powerful weapon; the Gatling Laser.

Whirring came from the gun as the radscorpions raised their tails and increased their pace. A swarm of red beams bursted from the barrel. The crimson rays scattered from the laser weapon, striking steel and scaly surfaces alike. The Lone Wanderer maintained control as he was able to land the majority of the lasers onto the shells of the scorpions. They were reduced to nothing but ashes just before they were able to make contact with him.

Now instead of running, he just walked down the corridors of the ship, holding the heavy gatling laser in his hands. Utilizing the full extent of the laser’s power, he demolished any sort of wasteland animal that crossed paths with him. He could not help but wonder why these creatures would still attack him when their environment was clearly falling apart. Explosions rumbled the alien vessel, causing the Wanderer to trip against the wall.

Getting back to his feet, he continued on his escape from the dying ship, only to arrive at a dead end. However, he had spotted two different hallways stretching to his left and right, and chose the latter. The Wanderer’s hidden eyes widened at a large, reptilian figure that walked in from one of the doors to his left. His heart sped up while he clenched the handles of his weapon tighter.

His shoulders drooped. “Really?”

The creature had thick, tan skin and walked bipedally. It starred at the Wanderer with its beady, black eyes and gnawing teeth. Horns stuck out from the sides of its head, but made themselves appear pathetic when one looked towards the crooked, razor-sharp claws of the monstrous form. It gave a loud, chilling roar before taking a step towards the Wanderer.

It lurched its long arms in front of itself as it took another step, this time with much more speed. The Wanderer’s laser whirred again as he slowly backed away from the behemoth. Crimson beams struck the Deathclaw’s hide, but did nothing to faze it and only left small circles of burnt flesh. 

To the Wanderer, it only seemed to make it angrier. 

The Wanderer’s eyes then narrowed to a lazier expression when he risked a glance behind himself.

“Really…”

From another doorway came yet another denizen of the Wasteland. Instead of balancing on two, thick legs, it crawled on all four of it’s hairy, curved legs with wicked claws. Its entire body was covered with dark taiga-wood fur that had stains of dirt and blood clustered around. Instead of a flattened face, it had a bloodied muzzle and drooled at the Wanderer’s presence with its chipped teeth and velvet red eyes.

A Deathclaw and Yao Guai? Fate really loves messing with me.

The Wanderer twirled around and blasted the Yao Guai, producing similar results as the Deathclaw, anger. Swearing through his helmet, he ceased to fire and wobbled back where he came from, counting on obtaining some time to formulate a plan. 

But time wasn’t a luxury when he saw the two beasts meet at the intersection.

Initially, he had hoped that they would fight it out with each other first so he could had easy pickings and potentially make it out alive. But for him, no, they simply stared at each other before looking towards the Lone Wanderer. 

He could swear that they nodded when they looked back at each other. They simultaneously announced their battle cry and charged for the man covered in power armor, who could only stare at his inevitable fate.

To those who are watching above, why do you hate me so much?

The Lone Wanderer’s life flashed before his eyes when he could see the wrinkles of the Deathclaw and glares of light from the Yao Guai’s fur. 

Then another explosion occurred. 

He lost his footing as the ceiling in front of himself bulged down, and fell on his back and watched as the thick ceiling panels collapsed onto the metal floor along with piles of broken technology.

The room became still as the Wanderer tapped the limbs of his body before an inaudible cheer. He stood up taking in a large gust of air with a hopeful grin. 

*Phew!*

His ears barely picked up the Deathclaw’s and Yao Guai’s growls behind the blockage of fallen parts and buzzes of failing machinery. After examining his environment, he realized that his passage to the rest of the ship was also sealed.

With a short sigh, he turned and walked down the shaky halls to where he could only go back to: the bridge. The floors rumbled violently a minute later, as much as the ceiling did previously. He could hear the source from behind himself and turned to see the blocked hall. 

Through his disorientated vision, he saw the pile of rubble shake. He watched with dull eyes when the piles of scrap fell through the newly-introduced floor that dropped them down into a black abyss.

“You’re kidding me…”

He looked back up to see a Deathclaw and Yao Guai eyeing the missing blockage, the missing floor, then the Wanderer. They all stood, without a single growl, still for several seconds as the two radioactive monsters examined the foot-long gap that separated beast from man. The Lone Wanderer’s hands hung below his waist with the gatling laser in a loose grip.

“Why are there SO MANY damn explosions!?” The Wanderer yelled.


***







***


“Why aren’t there ENOUGH damn explosions!?” The Courier flailed his arms above his head. “This is so boring!”

He hovered above his seat with his waist being loosely fastened to the chair via seatbelt. He crossed his arms while giving a grunt of discontempt. The Courier’s eyes narrowed at the poor visibility he was getting through the front window of the shuttle. Toaster fell asleep when the Courier lost at rock-paper-scissor.

He could very well see the gray hull, now revealed to be part of a very, very large vessel, up close. The nose of the shuttle shattered the metal plating, digging it in deeper, smashing pipes and circuits. The inside of the vessel’s hull was filled with the flashes of electricity, gases from leaking pipes and broken wires and energy cells. The bottom of the shuttle continued to roar, and increased roaring as the ship pushed further.

The Courier could see explosions inside of the giant vessel, but that was all the shuttle’s visibility could grant him. With a short groan, he pushed one of his buttons on his Pipboy and moved his head in closer.

“Alright guys, what do I do?” He asked. 

*“Hey, uhh, did you get to the moon yet?”* Dr. 0 replied.

“No, not yet. I’m stuck in something huge, annoying, dull, and doesn’t have enough explosions! And for once it’s not the line for a midnight release!”

Dr. 0 contemplated with the other Think Tank. 

*“Did you try turning it off and back on?”*

“Yeah……” The Courier said while his eyes shifted towards the central control systems where the ignition was at.  Bullet holes were scattered around, and the metal plating was smashed in, revealing the colored wires that connected underneath. He whistled while looking away after a big jolt of electricity zipped from an open wire. 

“Tried that… Didn’t work.”

His ears then picked up the hums of a flamer tank from below. He twisted himself in zero gravity to see a white Misty Handy hover towards him. It’s arms extended below it’s jet propulsions, making it a robotic version of a squid.

“Hang on for a moment...” The Courier said while bending his knees on the console directly above the robot. “Lemme say ‘hi’ to your cousin real quick and make sure he writes back. Keep going.”

His legs straightened, causing the Courier to launch himself towards the rapidly approaching Mr. Handy. He held his hands out with twitchy fingers as the robot’s buzzsaw whirred. He quickly drew out his Sonic Emitter and aimed towards the octo-bot. Nearly face-to-hull, it was then knocked out of the Courier’s hand by an arm of the Mister Handy.

*“Alright, who forgot to put the number before one on the keyboard?”* Dr. 0 said through the Pipboy. *“Not that I’m mad, but I now have no way letting anyone who I am when I type up reports!”*

“Oh. Ok. We’re gonna play it like that then!” The Courier swiftly grabbed the robot’s buzzsaw and flamer arms. The Mister Handy attempted to force those arms forward, but sweat and gritted teeth from the Courier shown it that it wasn’t going to be an easy task. 

“Damn modder! You’re ruining my game!”

The Mister Handy waved its thin pincer arm in front of it’s central eye. “Tsk tsk! You are a grown man! You shouldn’t be playing with children toys!”

The Courier’s eyes shot open as his aggressive force lessened in his arms. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed while he grinded his teeth harder. The robot felt the Courier’s resistance grow tenfold and slowly became overwhelmed with human willpower.

“Childhood! Never! Dies!”

And the Courier then swung his head back before returning it with greater force, headbutting the Mister Handy’s main body. Neither of the two parties felt any pain, but the Courier’s grips on the robot ceased as the Mister Handy floated away lifelessly, before jumping back to life. The Courier rubbed his head as he watched the Mister Handy regain its levitational balance. 

“...Except in those video games where I end up dying every ten seconds and just respawn back...”

Both floating in zero gravity, the Mister Handy zoomed towards the floating Courier. The Courier then drew Lucky, discharging rounds with sun-yellow glares. The robot’s armor remained intact as the bullets simply dented the thick plating.

“INSTRUCTION MANUAL?! YOU IDIOTS CAN’T EVEN INTERPRET ONE! I ALREADY KNOW EVERYTHING THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT SCIENCE WHILE YOU CLOWNS NEED TO REFER TO A KINDERGARTENER'S STORYBOOK!” Dr. Klein yelled from the Courier’s Pipboy.

The Courier returned Lucky to his belt as the Mister Handy took a swipe at him with the buzzsaw. While he managed to swing his body out of the way, he was defenseless against being slugged with the Handy’s pincer. 

The Courier flipped in zero gravity until he splattered himself against the bright wall. With his feet barely hovering above the wall, he rubbed his neck to see the Mister Handy maneuvering towards his position. He drew his Q-35 rifle from his back and aimed above himself.

He discharged several snot-green blobs of plasma. “The wild robot used ‘slug’. My turn at last!” He smiled.

He sprung himself away from the wall, firing rapidly at the Mister Handy. Several projectiles managed to strike the robot, causing it to take considerable damage to the plating. His hand formed the grip of something round and reached for his belt. He felt only nothing but bare leather and polymers, and groaned. 

“Oooh, why can’t those miniature storage containers exist?” 

The Courier then swung the rifle, striking the robot’s hull making it float away again. The Courier slowly followed the Mister Handy as it regained balance.

“@@@{!@$$#@$!$!}!@@!” 8 spoke through the Pipboy.

“Jeez, don’t you guys…” The Mister Handy swooped over in front of the Courier, flamethrower arm hissing. A wave of flame erupted from the Mister Handy as the Courier took hold of one of the other arms and pulled himself underneath. “...Ever run out of juice?”

He swung like a monkey as he kicked the hover tanks of the robot. With a loud clang, one of them stopped emitting shimmering air and the Mister Handy spun away, out of control.

”...Gabe was just hungry! And as an apology between friend and friend, I have decided to resume our experiments! And being Gabe, she was hungry for knowledge! So I fed her some of the many tomes of science!”- Dr. Borous said through the Pipboy.

The Mister Handy lost momentum after slamming into the wall, and the Courier saw and seized the moment. 

With a grin, the Courier reached for his belt. “Not a miniature storage device… But this will do.” His hand grasped for something round. Slugging his arm through the zero-gravity air, the Courier chucked the round object to the still Mister Handy.

“Eat this!”

No combustions occurred as the object only dinked off the robot’s metal hull. The Courier scratched his head while realizing that the round object was actually barbeque brown and was flat on two sides. 

*”Ate the… Borous! We’re not grade schoolers! We’re intelligent, mature, scientist… People.”*

He slowly rubbed his chin with two fingers, recalling the time when he traded a hand grenade for several cans of pork and beans.

“Shit!” He said while looked up at the floating can. 

“My fucking snack!” 

With grinding teeth, he brought his Q-35 back into his two hands. Slimey orbs of glowing plasma sprayed across the chamber rapidly. 

“You stay the hell away from that!” 

The Courier placed his rifle in mid-air while he grasped Old Glory from his back and held it tightly as the Mister Handy raced back to him while spinning out of control. “If you wanna eat something…”

“Eat this!” 

Within arm’s reach, the Courier clobbered the Mister Handy, scattering bits of the hull plating throughout the pilot’s chamber. The robot sputtered and buzzed as it tried to focus on the Courier, with Old Glory in his hands.

“You don’t mess with a man’s caps, you don’t mess with a man’s romance, and more importantly, you don’t mess with my damn snacks!”

-”Oh you just HAD to go there, didn’t you? Of all intellectual things that could be on my mind, Richie Marcus is jutted out in front. Now all the memories of American High are FLOWING straight back to me. Well how about this? At least I don’t hate Mr. House without purchasing hundreds of his goods!”-

*”We agreed to never discuss him here! Ever! Especially not since the lobotomite last came in here… Saying stuff about him… Uhh...”

-“...Winning?”-

*“Borous! You just said the two words I ever don’t want to see in the same sentence! That’s four, er… Two strikes! I’m going to do what Klein does to us all the time, IGNORING YOU!”*

*Ding!*

The sound of a small bell electronically rang through the Courier’s Pipboy. He looked towards it to see flashing zeros on the interface and back to his distant dufflebag, which was looping all around but remaining attached to the coat hanger.

The Courier shook his arms in front of his chest like a giddy schoolgirl. “Oh, it’s done!”

Taking hold of the metal bars along the walls, he shot himself up the pilot’s chamber, smashing the Mister Handy again with Old Glory in the process. He snatched his floating can and finally arrived at the black, pilot’s seat. He reached for his floating dufflebag when he felt the thin, metal arms grasp onto his leg.

He looked down at his feet to see the Mister Handy, now even more frenzied, curling its front, claw around his left leg. Half of its white hull was beaten or destroyed, revealing the thin, black skeleton of it. Several of the glowing, red eyes struggled to orient correctly. The flamethrower arm was twitching considerably. The Courier’s expression shot open when the Mister Handy pulled the Courier away, sending him flying down to the bottom of the chamber

“Cuuurssse yoooouuu Miiister Haaandddy!” His voice dragged on as he drifted farther away until a loud thump was heard. 

“Ouch...” 

The Courier cracked his neck and eagle-eyed the Mister Handy, who was now flying out of control. He hummed with disdain. His eyes shot up when the Sonic Emitter floated right into his view. He grabbed it midair with a large grin and narrowed eyes.

Quickly aiming the toy-like pistol, a flat, blue projectile flew with a low-frequency sound. Striking the Mister Handy, it buzzed, spazed and curled up its appendages. The Courier leaned back with a sigh of relief.

“And that’s why you don’t mess with my rampage...”

*Thump! Thump! Thump!* 

Something knocked against the chamber door the Courier floated nearby. With the help of Old Glory, he was able to pull himself closer and opened the hatch to the cargo bay. After he looked what sought entrance, his eyes widened and his grin grew into a wide, open smile.

“Stripe!”


***











***


Twilight scanned the night sky from her balcony, sitting comfortably in the cold glow of the stars and moon. She looked deeply through her telescope again, gazing at the twinkling stars more closely. She could not help but admire night sky in its blanket of midnight blue. Ever since Luna came back, she took more appreciation for the time that it wasn’t day.

Her purple ears raised to the sounds of the floorboard squeaking. Not in a loud, disturbing way nor the tiny feet of a mouse. She turned casually to see her groggy assistant wobbling inside with a glass cup in hand.

Spike rubbed his sagging eyes with a loose fist. “You’re still up?”

Twilight gave an optimistic grin. “Yup! This is really the first time I looked at the stars in greater detail, especially since Luna returned.”

“At this hour?”

“Oh yes Spike, the stars are the brightest when it is the latest at night.” Twilight resumed to looking straight into the telescope. Spike tiredly looked at Twilight who was busy going from star to star. 

Spike slow turned and began walking back inside. “Well, I’m gonna go back to bed.” Twilight heard Spike’s light steps on the wood floor stop suddenly. She could tell that he was still on the balcony.

She could hear approaching footsteps that ended next to her. “Are you actually looking for aliens? I mean, are there really aliens?”
 
“I have no idea!” She squealed with a whitening smile. “And according to mathematical probability, there should be another world just like Equestria somewhere else among the stars. But those odds are very, very astronomical.”

“Doesn’t Princess Luna know? Isn’t she like the princess of the stars?” Spike asked while scratching the back of his head.

“Well, technically, no,” Twilight answered. “Luna is princess of the moon and night sky. The stars and outer space are way out of her power. She is the ruler of night on Equestria, not the entire universe, so I don’t think she knows the answer either.”

“Well then.” Spike took another sip of his water. “What do you think aliens would look actually look like?”

“I tell you what I told the fillies, I have no idea,” Twilight said while zooming in on the moon. “Though they would probably be magical-based life-forms since that’s all the living things are based off of in Equestria.”

“No no, I mean aliens that fly in spaceships and stuff.”

“Oh, well…” Twilight sunk into thought. “They would clearly have to hold some intelligence and some sort of magic, especially to be able to travel millions of magicka-years away, so maybe they would resemble us?” 

“Like those sci-fi comics and novels?” Spike added with an unimpressed look. “Please, in those, the aliens would look practically the same as ponies. Sometimes with absolutely no changes.”

“Well, ponies, griffins, dragons and changelings are the only type of intelligent life that manages to thrive so how else could aliens invent technology?” Twilight back out of her telescope and took a glimpse at the night sky as a whole.

“It will be a very, very long time when we actually encounter aliens.” She gave a sad sigh and smiled. “I wish I could live to see that day, two worlds making contact for the first time. Oh just think of all the things that we could learn from each other!”

“Like, scooping brains out of my head? And replacing it with some sort of magical gem, making me some sort of zompony?!” He finished while raising his horrified voice.

Twilight stared at Spike with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “What? It’s a possibility.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly Spike, you read too many of those Star Mare comics.” Twilight said with an eased smirk. “Just think what kind of aliens these would be? What could they look like? They could look like something beyond our imagination! We could exchange knowledge and culture! Imagine the possibilities!”

“And you have been staring at the sky for too long, Twilight,” Spike commented. The fascinated pony gave an annoyed grunt, which prompted the little dragon to walk back inside. “I’m going back to bed, good night.”

“Good night, Spike,” Twilight Sparkle said while her eyes kept on the sky with a longing smile. “Good night.”


***







***


“Team Mojave is blasting off ag-”

*KRRSSHH!”

The Courier smacked into the front, concaved window above the control consoles. Thankfully, no cracks were seen or done in the glass that separated the inhabitants from a horrifying death. The Courier rubbed his head that was still ringing, feeling the stickiness of the blood that leaked from the roots of his hair.

“Looks like someone isn’t happy today,” the Courier pointed out. The slamming of a door silenced the room. “Honestly, who doesn’t want a hug?”

He pulled himself back onto his black seat with one hand and sat down above the cushion. Shaking himself out of disorientation, he floated up towards his dufflebag and dug his hand inside until a smile elicited on his face. 

“Yes! Still warm!”

With a few clicks, he pulled out a large brahmin steak that was skewered on a thin, metal rod. The medium-rare meat juiced with faint steam. The Courier picked up several skills in the wasteland, with survival being one of many. He honestly surprised everyone at being a master chef, but unsurprised them all when he ate their meals as soon as they were finished.

“Happy Shotgun-Brahmin day!” He announced. “Or whatever that damn day is called where everyone travels somewhere.”

The Courier’s mouth drooled with appetite as it drew closer to the chewy protein. Taking a huge bite, he chomped his mouthful of delicious steak.

Aww yeah. That’s good. He thought to himself.

The Courier had the Think Tank modify his dufflebag so it now has a miniature, rotisserie oven installed inside of it. Everyone he met in the wastes always became confused whenever he pulled out a warm piece of meat from his duffle bag.

He savored the juiciness of the brahmin using each second and every tastebud. Swallowing half of the meat that was now reduced to paste, he hummed to himself, putting himself into thought.

What am I thankful for? He rubbed his chin.

He gazed around the empty pilot’s chamber, looking down to see the hatch that Strip closed up. He thought back to the Strip, Lucky 38, The Ultra-Luxe’s gourmand, and everywhere else he killed, had fun and gambled at. His eyes suddenly shot open and he snapped his fingers.

He nodded affirmatively. Definitely my truck.

He continued to wolf down the brahmin steak, slurping, gulping and spitting out chunks of meat. Minutes later, he impressively finished the meal, eliciting a large belch that still wasn’t enough to wake Toaster up. His mind automatically filtered the Think Tank’s bickering when he noticed a strange, blinking, orange button that he somehow missed.

His curiosity piqued and he listened closer to the Think Tank’s conversations, hoping for something since shouting every possibly curse word didn’t seem to be effective.

*”...Whatever it is, pushing the big, bright button… Thingy is a…”* Dr. 0 said.

“...An absolutely good idea!” The Courier finished with an excited expression.

*”...Absolutely good idea!”*

“Nailed it!” He cheered.

The Courier then went to push the big button, thinking there could be nothing going wrong at all. He realized he had no way of actually pushing it, since he held whatever was left of his steak in one hand and his can of pork n’ beans in the other. 

He stared at it with neutral eyes and gave a brief shrug. 

“Fuck it.”

And mashed his head into the console, jamming several buttons into the controls. 

The controls buzzed and hissed. A brightening glow of blue light was caught in his eyes. He looked up to see the shuttle nose outside, bashed in almost completely, glow intensely. A blue-violet, translucent ball of energy had formed, and proceeded to expand. The walls of light passed through all the objects, doing no damage.

The Courier, who simply looked at it with the remaining brahmin stuffed in his mouth, was unfazed and only reacted with a slight smirk.

“Nice light show.”


***







***


The Lone Wanderer hyperventilated against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. He was back at the bridge after running away with his life. While running, he swore he could hear more and more roars of irradiated beasts joining in on the parade. By the split second, he ran back inside and shut the large, complex door, knowing it would be impossible for simple animals to decipher an alien door.

Each thump against it wouldn’t allow him to simmer. The roars and slammings from the onslaught of what was clawing at him gradually died down, but the Wanderer’s heart stayed the same. Finally, there was silence.

At last, they’re gone.

The room was still and quiet, quiet enough that he could hear the idle grumblings of what awaited him back out in the hall. Sweat trickled on his face while he could still hear his hammering heart. 

He slowly stepped forward, carefully taking quiet steps, freezing at every sound that stood out from the distant explosions and beeps of the buttons. After feeling confident that the Deathclaws and Yao Guais wouldn’t return, he walked and seated himself onto the captain’s seat.

The mothership occasionally shook, but it did that so much that it was practically instinct for him to plant his feet firmly on the metal floor. 

The distant hologram that showed the entire ship flickered occasionally. The missile-like object was still lodged into the hull. If anything, it appeared that it was digging in. The Wanderer scratched his head at the revelation that it was some sort of glitch.

But just as he was going to relax, his ears picked up something strange. Down far below, some sort of explosion occurred. For some reason, it didn’t sound like one of the typical fragmental or electrical combustions. To the Wanderer, the only real way he could describe what it sounded like would resemble some sort of sonic boom.

He looked out the surrounding windows, which had a beautiful view of the dead planet. A lucid, azure sphere of light emerged from below as the eye can see. 

The ball of strange energy didn’t move, but only growing and harmlessly engulfing whatever objects it encountered. A rounded wall of light phased itself into the bridge and moved up quickly. The Lone Wanderer found his power armor to stutter momentarily when the wave blew past him.

He looked behind himself to see the strange light disappear into the walls and door. 

“What the hell was that?” The Wanderer thumped the back of his helmet. He checked his Pipboy to find no injury or effect to his armor. 

Moments later, the entire ship shook. 

Violently. 

“What the…?”

Enough to send the Lone Wanderer tumbling down. For some reason, he was falling towards the window, but was caught underneath a control console. The Wanderer could not help himself but think that the gravity is now different but the same. 

He could instinctively tell that the laws of nature would still work, and that he was being pulled by some external force. He threw his hand and gripped the side of the table. Pulling himself with all of his strength, he rested both of his arms on the edge, making him dangle from under the table. His eyes exploded when he looked outside.

“What in the fuck?!” 

Earth, the stars, space, and everything else was gone. Instead, the mothership was in a tunnel. A bright tunnel of spiraling waves of a thick, blue aura. The ship vibrated vigorously as it traveled through, making all the loose object crash into the seemingly, impenetrable window.

The tunnel walls paused for a moment, making the Wanderer feel less artificial gravity, causing his dangling legs to inch back to the cold floor. Then the alternating, blue streams spun again, this time much, much faster with brighter and brighter blue lights.

This time, however, instead of being pulled towards the window, the Wanderer was being pulled to the rear bulkhead. 

Without the slightest clue of the changing gravity, the sanctuary that protected him slipped out of his grip with ease. In the shape of a starfish, he slammed into the wall. The force was tremendous enough that he could feel the blood rushing from the front of his body. Every limb he tried to break free of the gravity was forced back into the wall.

“What is wrong with this thing?!”


***







***


“Mmmmm.” 

The Courier crunched through another mouthful of beans. “This shit is good,” he barely was able to say through his full mouth.

The Courier sat almost casually, holding an open can of beans whose contents attempted to float out but was prevented by the adhesive juices. He watched the blank hull of the ship with bored eyes while idly scooping beans into his mouth. He showed no reaction to the brightening cyan and indigo lights from the sides and still shoveled pork and beans.

Even after the strange sonic boom, he still kept bagged eyes at the viewless window and nonchalantly ate his snack. The inside chamber vibrated but the Courier wasn’t affected due to the fact he was floating in zero gravity.

The Courier swallowed his meaty paste. He placed his spoon in front of himself and transferred the can into his other hand. 

“You know my friend…” He reached to his left and pulled a barely recognizable Mister Handy. “I’m glad that we came to an understanding.”

His left arm hugged the bashed-in spherical body and pulled it closer to his ribs. The Mister Handy had most of it’s armor beaten away, revealing the delicate interior that was also smashed ruthlessly. Only one eye sensor remained and it was severely twisted and mashed around. All of the arms were forcefully ripped away and the jets were banged up.

He raised his can of beans. “When we first met, I didn’t know what to think...” 

With a ditzy smile, he thought back to when he was being thrown around.

“We’ve had some trials together, and some cake, but ultimately you didn’t follow through with that last one.” The Courier’s voice died down to a more grim tone at his last sentence.

His dark expression then erupted with a big smile and casual eyes.. “In the end, we’ve managed to come to an understanding! And while we wait for this damned commercial break to end, it’s just me, you…” He leaned in closer to the limbless robot, squinting his eyes at the tiny inscription. “...343, Toaster and…” 

He paused and glanced back down to the pilot’s chamber, ignoring the floating, robotic limbs and bullet shells.

After looking at the Cargo bay hatch, he was reminded about when Stripe swiped at him with his tiny arms, sending him away with surprising force literally minutes ago.

“Well it would’ve been Stripe, but he’s just an ungrateful bastard.” He shook his can of beans while his eyes wandered away.

“But I’m glad that you’re here; you’re a really good listener! Not a complaint or rant to take over the world so far. Now I know that we may have had some sort of… Fight, but now that’s over and we can just enjoy the show! Together!”

A frown surfaced on his face. “...If it ever continues again,” he muttered. “Jeez, why do these commercial breaks go on forever? I mean they aren’t even offering the product in any kind of convincing way. They’re just plastering their name across a cereal box,” he said while holding his hand out towards the blank hull.  “Maybe I should stop watching films so often. Maybe I should go out and do more instead of staring at a colorful screen. Yeah! Screw TV! Look out reality, here comes-” 

The Courier finally noticed that the hull the shuttle was dug into was finally moving. His eyes widened. “Oh shit, the show‘s starting!” 

“Get the fuck out of here!” He ruthlessly chucked the spherical robot down the chamber. “Honestly, you overgrown monitor, are you always this rude?! Bothering me during the movie?! What is wrong with you?!”

He turned around with eager eyes, obediently sitting in mid air. The wires and zapping circuits grew further and further from the Courier and the shuttle. Bits of shredded metal screeched as the shuttle’s nose pulled out of the saucer’s hull. 

“Finally! A change in setting!” He cheered.

The Shuttle, now free of the strange vessel’s hull, tilted itself backwards. The Courier latched onto the chair in order to maintain his positioning. 

Slowly, a green marble centered in the Courier’s view, sitting itself above the mashed-in nose of the shuttle. Lines of white clouds streamed and swirled above the grass-green continents and deep-blue oceans. The little, lush planet slowly grew in size, allowing the Courier to spot the rifts in the thick clouds.

The faint echoes of an explosion sounded from the back, but did nothing to surprise the Courier in the slightest. Seconds later, buttons flashed and small alarms beeped.

“Woah! Huh? What the?!” The Courier searched in every direction, sending bits of beans across the room. “Okay okay, ship is making funny noises. How bad could this g-” He stopped himself after looking down at his lap then back to the strange planet.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!!”

He threw his can and spoon behind himself. He held his hands by where one bean managed to splash down on his leather legging.

“And there goes my perfect ‘Shotgun-Brahmin day’!”


***







***


The Lone Wanderer struggled to stand up after being thrown across the room several times until he slammed into the front window and dropped onto the floor. After standing on his two feet, he stumbled backwards and caught himself on the wall. The world seemed to blur as he tried to wobble his way back where the captain’s seat was, which had the best view of the window.

The room constantly glowed red, along with an irritating alarm that could not do much other than harm one’s hearing.

While on the way up, his disorientated vision caught the view of the hologram. But for some reason, it just seemed different to him, especially the mothership as a whole. After clenching his eyes shut, he looked back at the overall condition of the ship with clearer vision.

“What?! The ship…”

He eyes beheld themselves as they stared at the mothership hologram. Half of it was gone, as if something chopped them apart with a big knife. The red missile dislodged itself and was floating in the same direction the mothership was drifting, downwards. The main propulsions of the ship failed. The bridge shook extremely vigorously. 

“...where’s the rest of it!?”

“What the hell is going on?” He said while jogging up to the captain’s seat. “What did that damn missile do?”

After taking a quick glance outside the window, he stopped altogether. What he thought was his dead Earth was replaced with something else. 

Instead of sickly dead lands were lush landscapes of bright green. Poisoned oceans were a beautiful blue. Giant, cotton balls scattered themselves wherever they pleased. He could not help but just stare at it at the life-rich planet in wonder.

Is… Is that Earth? He asked himself.

He shook his head after realizing that the continent shapes were not of Earth; he could recognize not one country. His state of pure confusion and awe was interrupted when static emitted from a nearby console. His ears picked up the buzzes, but ignored it until he heard something different.

“....Ma…..ay!”

His eyes widened at the recognition of human syllables. He quickly dashed to the controls and sat down, and frantically searched it. After pushing random buttons, he managed to bring up a status screen that had a strange frequency with no name. 

The Lone Wanderer struggled to fine-tune the strange signal the console was getting. Finally, he heard a legible voice in the midst of the static.

“...Mayday! Mayday! This is Shuttle 38, carrying killer cargo for floating brains! We are going down! I des-… I mean the controls spontaneously combusted! I got beans on my pants! My new friend is being an ass! And my co-pilot is a toaster! I repeat! My co-pilot is a toaster!” The slightly crazy voice cried in the swarm of static. “...Oh yeah, and Stripe is also being a complete douche, so I don’t mind if we lose him.”

The Wanderer cocked his head at the strange signal. He couldn’t tell either if this message was serious or not, but nevertheless, it was his only means of communication. After realizing that one of the buttons he pushed corresponded with a small light, he responded back.

“Hello? Hello?! Are you there?!” The Wanderer called. “If you can hear me, please respond! I’m trapped on some alien ship and I need help!” The Wanderer looked up to the ceilings, thinking about the part with the toaster. 

“Are you also sane?!” The Wanderer’s heart sped up as he waited tirelessly. “If not, then you might need help!”

“Military lingo, Order 66, AC-130, blah-blah-blah! No one actually listens to this stuff!” The man’s voice dredged on. The Wanderer attempted to get him to know of his existence, but had no clue of his success. “Except when everything is going to explode after killing so much.”

“What?”

“You know what a mailman crashing a falling shuttle needs? Other than giant, exploding rings, some fitting music! Hit it!” Then the voice was cut off by a recording of Jingle, Jangle.

“Hello? Hello?! Please answer back! Anything!” The Lone Wanderer desperately called. The song did not stop, and he gave a sigh of defeat. “Dammit!”

After slamming the table, the Wanderer looked at the communicator dumbstruck. The old song didn’t do much to block out the already-deafening alarms that rang in the bridge. He imagined everything happening to him right now were literally scrambling the logical parts of his brain.


What… The hell… Was that? He leaned back on the chair, hanging his head behind himself while exasperating air. And I thought Three-Dog was eccentric…

He finally realized that the ship was in panic mode after almost syncing the loud alarms into his mind. He stood up from his chair with his body naturally resisting the tremors of the ship that attempted to throw him off balance. He gazed around, seeing flashing red buttons on every table and computer.

After an examination of what could be seen through the window, he realized that there was only one course of action for half of a mothership: crash. He groaned after seeing the green planet enlarge very slightly. 

He flapped his arms in the air in a ragdoll fashion. “Are you kidding me?!” He stomped around in a small circle before facing the front window.

“So someone, please give me an explanation as of what in the nine circles of Hell is going on!” 


> Chapter 3: Crashed, Crash report, or Crashing?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gravity suddenly returned. 

Like a child, the Courier groaned as he latched himself back onto his seat. The interior shook drastically while dozens of alarms beeped off in distress. The pilot took no notice as he grasped the steering wheel and murmured to himself casually. 

He then spotted something in the corner of his eyes and turned to investigate.

“Let’s see here...” The Courier squinted his eyes. “In case of - emergency break glass…”

The Courier read the crimson text printed on the glass shielding that was on the wall next to his seat. His eyelids drooped over his two tired eyes as he raised a fist and bluntly threw it into the glass. 

After the brief screeching of fragile plating, the Courier pulled his arm back, boredly gazing into the hole he’d just made. Shards of glass hanged by concaves thinner than string while more fell down like rain drops.

“Ok - I just broke the wall...” he said, angrily shaking his head. 

“Where’s my fucking ham?!” He suddenly yelled, slamming his chair. “That one guy always puts holes in the wall, and he gets free food! I do it and I get...”

His eyes caught the faintness of something big within. He reached in and brought out a leather bag. Examining every side of it, he discovered various straps, stitches and pouches all around. He fiddled with a long, white string with a metal ring attached to the end of it before giving a groan of disatisfaction.

“...A bookbag?!” He said with outrage. “What is this, High school?!”

“Get the hell out of here!” With bitter disappointment, he tossed it overhead. He completely ignored the faint, white text (“əʇnɥɔɐɹɐd”) that was printed on it. “Fuck homework…”

He cracked his knuckles while drawing his head closer to the shattered box. “What else is in there?”

His tired eyes bursted open. His face gained a bright smile at the sight of round object that was hidden in the darkness. 

“No way…” he shook his head. “It can’t be…”

He easily pulled the rough-surfaced object out between his thumb and index finger. He gazed at it directly in front of his face, then taking a big whiff through his nose. He deeply sighed with pleasure. Two walls of teeth raised in his smile.

“Fuck yeah! A peanut!” 

He shook his clenched hands while the muscles at the edges of his grin began to get sore. “And people don’t know what they need for emergencies...”

He flicked the nut into his opened mouth and crunched it away. The wet walls of his mouth alerted him of the jagged sides of the peanut while his tongue was mesmerized by salt and dryness.

Finally, he located the succulent core with a grin and savored it before it was digested away. 

“Mmmmmmm.”

He belched. “Ok, now that our crisis has just been averted, let’s try this again...”

He reached forward as much as his seat belt permitted him, and clamped his two eager hands on the awkward steering wheel. With a blink. his dreamy eyes suddenly enamored with determination while catching a quick glance at a now snoring Toaster. 

With solid white teeth grinding vigorously, the Courier jerked and twisted the wheel as warm sweat precipitated on his forehead.

“C’moooon!” He growled through his shut teeth.

The roaring rear of the shuttle sputtered for a moment before settling with a clean rumble. The distant green scenery that was within in the view of the Courier began to rotate.

“C’moooooon! Let’s...”

Strands of his black hair erected over his thick head, with the Courier’s head accumulating heat. His body fell to the side but was caught by the leather harnesses that held him in his seat.

“...do...!”

The Courier felt the rushing blood from the rest of his body race to his head. Sweat drops stuck on his body hair clumped together, forming bigger droplets that slid down his skin.

“...a…”

The green scenery and cloud overlays were now completely inverted in the pilot’s eyes.

“...Barrel roll!”

Traces of adrenaline reached the Courier’s arms, prompting him to twist the wheel with more strength and heart. Interior rolled until gravity and body heat return to their normal alignments. When the outside views matched his memory, the Courier jerked the wheel in the opposite direction, ceasing the shuttle’s twist.

“Yes! I did it!” The Courier waved his fists above himself with an open smile. “Now that damn voice can finally SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He yelled while violently shaking his arms.

He returned his hands to the wheel with a loose grip and slouched back in his chair. 

“Alright,” he sighed with a clap. “Step one is done, now it’s time for step two...” 

He paused and gazed at the white ceiling, stroking his chin with his fingers. ‘Minor’ explosions that echoed from behind did nothing to break the Courier’s trance. He remained oblivious to the fact that the shuttle was not flying.

He clapped his hands again. “Alright, fuck it, step three.” 

He leaned forward with an stiff index finger, hovering it above the labyrinth of buttons and smashed controls. His finger followed his scanning eyes, searching for the button that he was intent on finding. 

“Aha! The brake!” His eyes shot open when his finger stopped at a particularly bright red button. Shortly after, that enthusiastic expression died down when the Courier discovered the catch.

“Wait a minute...” 

He examined the text of a white tag than hanged beneath it. “Out… of… order…”

“Out of order?!” He threw himself backwards, leaning far back onto his chair until he could see an upside-down, dismembered Mister Handy. He shot himself back up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He punched another hole in the already-damaged console. “Damnit! How come even in the future, nothing ever works?!”
 
A brief, interesting frame came through the Courier’s eyes when he slumped back into his chair. He leaned forward, hoping to get a better view of what he saw. The shuttle was emerging from a fog of white when he saw something that shook him.

Ignoring the lush, green landscapes and young sky, he focused his attention on a mountain inbound.

 A tall, snow-capped, almost unrealistically narrow, mountain stood in the path of the ship. The eyes of the Courier were more focused on the strange object that was rapidly growing in detail. 

It was a city that latched onto the mountainside, reflecting the rays of sunlight with a silver tint. The Courier could be be helped but reminded of Tales of Chivalry when he noticed the unique style of the tall, marble towers. “Are there dragons?”

His mind briefly flashed back to the Lucky 38 which alluded to those structures that stood high and mighty, towering the minuscule buildings below in their marvel.

“Wait a minute…” The Courier squinted his eyes. His enhanced visions revealed to him that the buildings were indeed, medieval fashioned and encrusted with detailed, golden borders. 

“No way.” He slowly shook his head while his eyes widened. “I’m in….” 

“I’m in the sixties!”

His stared at the immersive city with open eyes and pursed lips. The miniature city continued to grow in size while the engine hollered an unhealthy roar. 

His flailed arms suddenly grabbed hold of the steering wheel. The Courier positioned himself behind the wheel as if he was driving his truck. His eyes narrowed into a determined look. He mischieviously smiled.

“Get the hell out of the way, 1864! 2283 is coming through!”


***





***


Celestia stepped hoof onto her balcony and immersed herself in the cool dawn. She gazed down with her calm grin at the capital city of Canterlot. Few of her subjects were already up and about, starting their normal days while the rest slept in until the sun rose. Celestia also prepared herself for her daily duties and mentally braced herself for her busy day. 

Luna already retired back to her chambers, so now the sun goddess was now about to perform her first task of the day. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated her abnormally large magical energies. 

She looked straight ahead into the night-time sky where light barely emanated from the horizons. A chilling wind did nothing to affect her already-flowing mane.

Her long, sharp horn was engulfed in a sun-yellow aura. The faint stars that were once the brightest in the night were now fading away. A warm, golden glow stretched across the sleepy lands. The ponies and guards took no notice to the rising orb that glowed brighter from the distant mountain ranges.

More ponies emerged from their homes as the sun arisen a morning height. The citizens rubbed their sandy eyes, drank at cafes and exchanged greetings and small talk with each other under the comforting blanket of morning. 

All seemed to go well for for the princess with the dark sky lighting up and pegasi weather teams starting their routines. And let another day begin… She thought to herself.

The princess’ ears perked up and she stopped her magic. Celestia grew perplexed at whether the faint rumble she was hearing was in her head or not. The ruler spread her wings and braced herself for another dragon attack, but the distant roar continued in a constant beat. 

She folded back her magnificent wings and leaned over the guardrails, scanning from pony to pony. She stepped back on the balcony and continued raising the sun after seeing the ponies mind their own business. 

But she stopped herself after seeing an earth pony look up at the sky, gazing in every direction to see nothing. As the rumbling got louder,  more ponies were curious of the source. She let go of her magical grip, ceasing the sunrise.

Celestia slowly cocked her head, looking towards several directions of the sky. Her heart began to race as the rumbling grew loud enough that she could distinguish that is was from some sort of flame. 

Her search reached the peak when she spotted a low-flying pegasus with her jaws dropped. The loud roars were now coming from above.

Following that pegasus’s stare, princess Celestia looked up. Her usually calm eyes shot open in shock and her jaw trembled in awe, two gestures that were rarely seen from her. 

“Mother of me…” she muttered.

Something grey and enormous flew over her tower. Celestia was frightened at the size, which was large enough to blot out the sun. She made it out to be of some spherical shape, but half of it was strangely cut off as if a giant knife caused that condition. Flames ruptured from all across the vessel’s surface with an entire wall of fire sprouting from the rear end.

Princess Celestia’s eyes followed the unidentified flying object as it soared over the city, leaving behind a trail of thick smoke. 

Every open eye in Canterlot was now focused on the flaming object that sent chills down spines. The streets were filled with the echoes of several ponies that openly yelled questions and statements that were only left unanswered.

The ponies from ground level lost view of the strange meteor when it descended below the city’s boundaries. Princess Celestia, however, was still able to watch the object from the demesne of her tall tower. 

The flames grew more distant as it drifted downwards towards the thick forests. Finally, low booms were heard, marking the landing of the strange object as it plowed hundreds of lush trees down. Instead of  bright inferno, smoke risen from where the mysterious object landed, trailing smoke high into the sky.

Hundreds of ponies dashed to the city borders, hoping to catch a view of where the crash site was. Even the guards found themselves dashing around to get a better look.

Celestia stared at the meteor’s landing zone in awe, realizing that the forests that it landed in happened to be close to a familiar town. She unfurled her wings and bend her knees, keeping narrowed eyes on her target, preparing for flight. 

But her ears perked up once again, to which upon she straightened her posture.

She looked down at the ponies who were too busy gazing at where the flying entity touched down.  Familiar rumbles entered her ears. She noted that they sounded like the event that happened only seconds ago, except these sounds were more miniscule. From wherever it was, the air whistled about it like the first one. 

Celestia turned her head only to find nothing but the smoke that emanated from the forests. The hums grew louder again, but sounded less electrifying. The noise rose loud enough that she could barely hear her own thoughts. She gazed upwards, expecting to see another enormous half-piece soar across the empty sky.

Instead, the fiery roars grew louder. After looking up to see nothing, she grew confused and shriveled her eyebrows. She felt that she was on the brink of disaster.

*KRRRRRSSSSHH!!*

To the sound of tremendous crashing, Celestia instinctively turned to face the inside of the tower, which contained her bedroom. Her heart skipped a beat and gasped when she saw that there was an intruding object that was considerably big.

There was the nose of something huge and black and white, and where the bed used to be. 

The brick walls and plaster ceilings were violently torn apart as the menacing object plowed through effortlessly. It continued with a force that was unstoppable while Celestia stumbled helplessly

“Oh my-”

*Grrgh!*

Without a second to react, the Princess found herself hugging the dark nose against her will. Her whole body harrowed while her head throbbed after being slammed into cold steel. She clenched her eyes shut, enduring the onset pain occurring while the motions of the vessel refused to stop.

“AAAUUGGHH!”

The ponies of Canterlot finally took notice of the second unidentified flying object when the whole bedroom and balcony collapsed from the tower. Grinded stone rocked the tense atmosphere further. Chunks of marble and miscellaneous furnishings rained down into nearby areas. 

Civilians screamed as they raced out of harm’s way. The rubble landed on roofs and roads, ending with echoing thuds that irked the ears of everypony in the city. 

Their jaws dropped at the sight of Celestia’s tower being destroyed, and even more so at what remained from the smokescreen.

While the whole metal body was dented in and had missing panels, the shiny black and white paint was certainly enough for the ponies to distinguish that it wasn’t any ordinary space rock. 

More and more of the cylindrical object was seen. The top of the tower barely stood until the flames appeared, with long fins tearing the supports apart.

The strange vessel took flight and glided over the city, dangerously close to the streets. Celestia slid down from the indented nose as it flew with a concerning roar. 

Finally, she no longer felt herself stuck on the nose of the unknown object, but obeying the laws of gravity.

Celestia felt herself unable to move her limbs in the soreness and pain that plagued her body. Her screams were faintly picked up by the ears of ponies that happened to be standing nearby. 

Her long cry of agony ended with the cracking of pavement that echoed throughout Canterlot. A cloud of grey dust erupted from the landing site. 

The ponies who witnessed the whole ordeal shrieked when the thick cloud materialized. The second falling object flew over in the same general direction as the first, leaving another trail of hazardous smoke.

Instead of some sort of spherical form, the second meteor was in the shape of a giant, white arrow. Even though it appeared to be greatly damaged, the ponies could make out the different parts of an arrow.

But all of that didn’t seem to matter when the dust dispersed.

“Princess Celestia!”

The sun princess laid motionlessly in the small crater that formed in the aftermath. The falling meteors meant nothing to the ponies who crowded themselves around Celestia. They only stood and looked at each other without the slightest clue on what to do next. So much was already happening and the unsettled civilians could only wait for something else to happen.

“Somepony! Please help!”

“Out of the way!” A stallion’s stern voice commanded. “Move aside!”

The crowd gave passage to snow-white stallions uniformed in golden armor. They struggled to push through the crowd that paid no heed to their presence. The guards pushed and wedged themselves through after seeing no place to land for the pegasi. The ponies closest to the Princess stepped back, allowing the guards to assess the situation.

In one of the few occasions, the guards gasped and showed emotion. The fiery roars of the space-arrow grew more distant after passing overhead. 

The watching crowd could only wait in suspense as the guards frantically examined the Princess. The guards’ hearts skipped a beat when they failed to see the Princess even take a breath, and they skipped another beat as well when they heard Celestia exhale in a deathly, rasped tone.

“Get a medic!” One of the guards shouted. Another golden-plated pegasi nodded nervously and flew away without a moment to lose. They turned their attentions backed to the downed Alicorn. Without a clue on what to do next, one of the guards bent down and gently cradled her head in his hooves. “Please your highness, stay with us.”

A new thought surfaced in the minds of everypony. Princess Celestia, who protected and ruled over every pony in Equestria for millennia, was now downed. Frightening images then surfaced; that all of Equestria would be thrown back into the dark ages, and all because they were without their faithful leader.

The guards suddenly winced. They could not tell if it was real, but they could not tell if in the corner of their minds that they heard something. Those suspicions proved correct when the voice of a mare was heard above them.

“CELESTIA!”

As soon as the guards picked up on that call, they jumped back. A pony landed by the crater with a heavy stomp, producing another dust cloud. Despair was on the pony’s face, like all that she cared for was suddenly grouped and siphoned away from her. 

And she held that face with good reason.

“Princess Luna!” One of the guards called.

The moon princess’s eyes leaked when she caught sight of her fallen sister. She huddled down closer to Celestia and took over the guard’s action. Celestia felt Luna’s slippers holding her head, and could barely muster the energy to crack open her eyes. Luna noticed the sun princess’s grasp to life and looked at her with trembling lips.

Streaks of warm water dripped down onto the stone floor. 

“Sister! Please don’t-” She was cut off when Celestia coughed and smiled at her teary face.

“It’s… It’s… okay, Luna,” she rasped in a faint breath. She coughed again, staining the crushed pavement below with a sticky crimson. “I… I will be fine… sister…” She closed her tired eyes and rested her head back into her sister’s hooves. Luna felt some wetness along her forelegs this time.

“S-sister?” 

More trails of tears streamed from her eyes. Her calm voice gradually grew into squeaks as if she was a talking mouse. Ponies watched in silence as well, certain that it would take more than first-aid to help. 

“Please… don’t do this to me… I’ve already-”

Her night blue ears twitched. She could hear another faint voice and listened carefully.

“-ver here! Hurry up!” A stallion barked. The anxious ponies looked up to see one of the royal guards being followed by a team of medical pegasi. “The princess is wounded, so there is no time to waste!”

Everypony besides Luna took a step back, giving the medical team enough space to make a landing. Two more pegasi arrived with a large stretcher and placed it next to Celestia, who was now breathing weakly. With their utmost care, the pegasi loaded the princess onto the stretcher after examining her with sweat-stricken faces.

“How is my sister?” Luna raced up to the paramedics as they were fastening Celestia to the stretcher. “Is she going to be alright?” Luna asked quickly. “Is she-” She was cut off when one of the paramedics sighed.

“We’re lucky that we made it here just in time,” the paramedics answered, “Even though I’m not certain, Celestia will survive, but we must get her stabilized in a hospital as soon as possible.” The white-gowned pegasi then fluttered their wings and proceeded to take flight with the unconscious princess. Her pastel mane waved to the force of gravity as they ascended.

Luna bit her lip. “Well o-okay, then go! Treat my sister, please!” The pegasi did not take much heed to her words since they were already on their way to Canterlot hospital.

All the ponies around watched in awe as they saw their princess, who was just gravely wounded, be taken to the emergency room, possibly making it a first in a generation. Luna flew up overhead to watch what was happening. Primarily, her sights were on her sister was being unloaded at the hospital. 

Distant rumblings caught her attention and she turned to where it originated from.

Two tails of smoke tainted the clear, morning sky. The dark trails emanated from the distant forests, and were not too far apart. Streaks following the crash sites were now missing a considerable amount of trees, but the forest remained thick enough to give poor visibility. Luna wiped her eyes and descended back down to the crowd.

Luna glared at the guards with a new face. She frowned in the same manner that she gave while confronting Discord with her sister. A determined look could be seen from her unmoving eyes as they stared at the bright-white pegasi. 

“Your highness,” one of the guards saluted, “what should we do next?” Luna looked up in the sky, staring at the two smoke streams that stood out in the clear morning. She looked back to the guard with an unchanged expression.

“Call my personal guard and ready them for mobilization,” she said with a stern voice. “We will also have to gather some ponies along the way as well.”


***





***


“C’moooooon!” 

Spike desperately scanned the morning sky using the telescope by Twilight’s bed. Each miniature session of searching from the window ended with a disappointed sigh. “Where are they Twilight? Where are the meteors?”

Twilight Sparkle rolled her eyes. “I told you Spike, you missed them! You got up too late!”

The little dragon stared back into the glass tube. “But there’s gotta be more. There has to be!”

“Nothing happened for the past 10 minutes, so I highly doubt any more meteors are going to crash soon,” Twilight said with a smile. Spike gave a defeated frown and sighed as he stepped away from the telescope, lazily staring at the paneled floor. “I’m sorry but you just slept through when they arrived.”

Spike’s overall body drooped down like a sad puppy. “Aww.”

Twilight took Spike’s place at the telescope and looked into the lenses. Rather than examining the distant smokestacks in the Everfree, she focused on Canterlot itself, which the new change still aweing her.

“How big were the meteors Twilight?” Spike asked with his last ounce of curiosity.

She wiped away more eye dust. “Well, I didn’t get to see the first one,” Twilight explained, “when it crashed, that’s when we both woke up, well, one of us anyways.” Spike rolled his eyes at Twilight’s remark, and crossed his slender arms.

The scholar unicorn looked back into the telescope and frowned upon gazing at the destroyed, castle tower. I hope nopony was hurt, thought the concerned Twilight, that shooting star did a considerable amount of damage on Canterlot castle.

A vague snapshot of the events before replayed in her mind. Like always, she was up early, drafting her daily checklist when a strange roar and earthquake rumbled the entire library. While Spike still slept, she raced outside to see a smokestack in Everfree forest and an arrow-shaped meteor ramming into Canterlot castle then crashing into the very same forest. It was still hard for her to believe that all of that happened in such a short time.

Her trance of memory was broken upon hearing somepony lightly knock on the door. 

Twilight Sparkle and Spike trotted down the stairs of the spacious library. “Come in-”

*SLAM!*

With a loud crash, the little door was slammed open, entering a pink earth pony. Her poofy mane and tail was more vibrantly pink than her coat, on which an emblem of three balloons rested by her flank. She hopped in little intervals with her eyes shut and a giddy grin where she then stopped after approaching the smiling Twilight.

“Hello Pinkie Pie, did those shooting stars w-?”

“OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH TWILIGHT! Did you see those shooting stars? Did you? Did you?” A massive grin suddenly grew on Pinkie’s face as she began her rapid banter with a hidden cache of breath. 

“Yes, Pinkie Pie, I did get to see one of them,” Twilight managed to squeeze inside of Pinkie’s banter, “but I-”

“I was sleeping when all of a sudden, ‘BOOM!’ and I woke up and was like ‘what was that?’ and then I realized I was hungry. So I ate some cake and went back to bed and then, ‘BOOM!’ it happened again! I ate some more cake and went back to bed and then the Cakes told me what happened and I went outside and saw the smoke coming out of Everfree Forest!”

“Okay Pinkie-”

“And I was like, ‘what are those?’ and then everypony else came outside! Like Miss Cheerilee, Mayor Mare, Daisy, Roseluck, Mr, Waddle, Mrs. Matilda, Carrot-top, Bon-Bon, Colgate, Cranky Doodle, Cherry Punch, Cloudkicker, Berry Frost, Cherry Fizzy, Lyra Heartstrings, Marigold, D-”

Pinkie was abruptly cut off by Twilight’s hoof, but talked into it regardless, practically unfazed. 

Twilight gave a friendly little laugh and smile. “Okay Pinkie Pie, I believe I understand what you mean, but I haven’t seen both of the shooting stars either.” 

She then paused upon seeing a light yet pale-rose hair protruding from Pinkie Pie’s body. At first she assumed it was just part of Pinkie Pie, but then realized that it was coming from behind her. Twilight peered over to see a banana-yellow, with an obscuring pink mane, pegasus that was hidden behind Pinkie the entire time. 

“Oh, hello Fluttershy.” Twilight gave her a curious smile.

Upon hearing the name, Pinkie’s eyes exploded open with excitement. “Fluttershy! There you are!”

The pegasus pony seemed to cringe, but resisted the urge to otherwise. Instead of tucking herself away, she stood up with more confidence in facing her friends. 

“Hi Pinkie, Twilight,” Fluttershy said in a humble tone.

 “What were you doing back there, silly filly?” Pinkie giggled childishly. “You should’ve told me that you were hiding behind me the entire time!”

“What are you doing here, Fluttershy?” The librarian asked in a more tame manner.

“Well um, I was t-trying - I need to...” the shy pony murmured, constantly tripping over her words. “I came here wondering what happened earlier.”

Pinkie let out another gasp, whereas neither of the ponies flinched back, already adjusted to their rambunctious friend. 

“Ohmygosh, me too Fluttershy!” The party pony hopped with joy. “What a super, duper coincidence we met in Twilight’s library!”

Twilight smiled demurely at her two friends, though opposite characters themselves, as they chatted away like old friends. She admired the beautiful thing known as friendship that was blossoming, until somepony tugged at her tail, only to see Spike pointing towards the door again.

Two more ponies shuffled through the little door, one of which was a light orange earth pony farmer, Applejack, while the other was a cyan pegasus with a bright rainbow mane. 

The latter, known as Rainbow Dash, scowled with discontempt, more so behind her. “Oh c’mon, why do you guys have to do this?”

Following the two mares were a pair of stallions that Twilight immediately identified as royal guards upon looking at their armor and stoic expressions. But unlike the ones in Canterlot, their color scheme was a darkened opposite; even their feathered wings were leathered black, like that of a bat. Its was almost resembling alternate-universe villains in those comic books Spike reads so much. 

“We do not hold intentions of malice nor obstructing your daily routines,” one of the guards informed, “but we are under orders to take said ponies to the one pony named, ‘Twilight Sparkle’ that resides here.”

The farmer pony, Applejack, pushed her hat out of her eyes and billowed a hoof towards the outside. “That part Ah’ get, but that don’t explain we y’all need all th’ guards around town.”

The two guards exchanged glances and faced the tri-apple cutiemark pony. “I’m afraid we are not at the pleasure to answer that or any more regarding our instructions.”

All the ponies gave each other confounded stares.

“What’s going on, sirs? Why are you bringing my friends here?” Twilight asked as she trotted up to the two batguards. “Why are you sirs here in Ponyville in the first place? Does it have to do anything with that shooting star?”

“We are under direct orders from Her Highness,” he, staring at nopony ahead. “Orders are to relocate the six specified ponies to this location and await for further instruction.” Twilight noticed the other guard had a obscure bruise on his cheek he subtly rubbed.

From ‘Her Highness’? Does that mean Celestia sent them here? Twilight contemplated deeply. But why didn’t she send me a letter beforehand? And these weren’t her normal guards, they were guards of-

“I bid thee all a fair ‘hello’.” A calm, assertive voice of a mare said, “and an apology for all the inconveniences that w...I may have induced, but time is of the essence.”

They all turned to see a majestic alicorn shuffling through the doorway. At first sight, the two guards immediately gave way to her and bowed deeply upon her entrance. “Your Majesty….”

Though not as tall as her sister, the monarch of the night was still a sight to behold. On her hooves, she wore foggy blue slippers sparkled like silver while her jet-black jewelry around her neck gleaned like the night sky. Her brilliant blue mane billowed to an eternal yet invisible wind that gave her the impression of divinity.

“Princess Luna,” Twilight said in shocked awe. 

“Hi Princess Luna! Do you remember me from Nightmare Night when I was a big chicken? Do you? Do you?” The hyperactive earth pony hopped incessantly with a delighted smile. 

The night princess winced back, but relaxed after remembering how the pony in a chicken costume lead the screaming posse of children, which ended with a happy ending. “Yes….Pinkie Pie, I do quite remember that day, and I am glad we were able to put that behind us.”

She averted her eyes to Twilight. “We….I have called the six of you here today to deal with a new, pressing matter.” Her serious demeanor withered as she whipped her head around, scanning the tall-oaks interior. “There is only five of you.”

Spike raised his little hand. “Umm, there’s six of us here?”

Princess Luna glanced over to the bipedal dragon. “Yes, I am quite aware of that.” She began trotting towards the two, standing guards. “But regardless, we are missing one.”

“What? You mean Rarity?” Rainbow Dash asked.

The bat guards gave their full, earnest attention when being glared at by the princess. “Care to explain the absence of the one called, ‘Rarity’?”

The guard with the small bruise on his cheek looked uncomfortably at Luna and stammered. “W-well, you see.” Luna raised an eyebrow. “She continually….insisted that she….takes her time.”

“I see….” Princess Luna stared at the guard inquisitively before piecing together what happened. 

A few of the ponies behind her gave a small giggle. “Oh Rarity…”

Luna regained a stern expression. “Very well then, join the other guards in isolating Everfree Forest from the public.” The guards saluted and took their leave.

“Now then,” she turned to the ponies inside, “it is imperative that these ‘shooting stars’ is dealt with as soon as possible.”

All the ponies and dragon glanced to each other, feeling perplexity in her answer. Only more questions were raised, as Twilight stepped forwards to ask the first…. “Why are you here? What are those shooting stars? Did you happen to cast them by accident?” ...few.

Luna raised a hoof, silencing her questioning. “This is no ordinary matter or incident; it seems as though that law by Murphy was correct.” A grave expression grew on her as she stared up at Canterlot through a window. “I did not cast those stars down, nor did I foresee their arrivals; sister would take charge of such events at this time, but she does not manipulate the stars. They were something completely out of my power, and that is what worries me.”

All the ponies listened intently as the atmosphere grew tense. “And from what I have heard from various reports, they were unsettlingly large and had the appearance unlike a normal meteor. Because of what happened at Canterlot, I simply cannot ignore this and must take matters into my own hooves, but not alone.”

“So, um, maybe is was some extr’ magic or somethin’ from the Sun?” Applejack asked, rubbing her mane.

The grim-looking princess shook her head. “If that scenario were to be true, then it would imply Celestia improperly raised the sun, which is highly unlikely.”

Rainbow Dash smacked her hooves together as she idly flew about. “Maybe it’s just Discord causing trouble again!” All the ponies, except Fluttershy, looked to her, agreeing that he would be the likely perpetrator for the recent destruction.

Again, Luna shook her head. “My sister informs me that you succeeded him in reforming his ways, yes?” The ponies all hesitantly nodded. “I would have been able to sense his magic were he to use it, but I can only feel no recent use of it.”

“Oh! Oh! I know! I know!” Pinkie raised her hoof with an elated smile. They all looked to her without serious regard.

“Is it a mailpony and a traveler?” Pinkie’s friends gave an exasperated, friendly sigh at their typical Pinkie Pie; even in such a grim moment, Pinkie Pie is still at her usual antics. “Or maybe aliens.”

She giggled at seeing Spike draw back, much to Twilight’s annoyance at such an idea.

“Aliens would make it awesome!” Rainbow Dash cheered as she banked into a complete circle.

“So, um. what is it then?” Fluttershy finally squeaked in.

Princess Luna stared at the paneled floor of the library and sighed deeply. “To be truthful, I have not the slightest idea.”


***





***


“Damnit… just… damnit!” The Lone Wanderer wheezed.

The Wanderer stretched his steel-covered arm in front of himself and slammed against the soft ground. He pressed his hand tightly into the floor, pulling himself closer to his clenched fist. He eased his right arm when his chest made contact with his thumb, and proceeded to throw his left hand in the same notion.

He entered a small hacking fit before gasping, “My… fucking legs…”

Surprisingly, he survived the crash, but at a cost. While the gel layer within his power armor absorbed most of the impact, some of the shock went straight for his legs. Now, they were numb, and trying to move them only produced agonizing pain. His chest was also a victim of the crash, with each gasping breath electrifying his ribs and lungs.

The heavy loads on his back kept swinging him every time he moved, trying to roll him off of his stomach. Through his bullet-proof visor, he set his target on what was a rock, or so he assumed it was, since the only thing present his list of priorities was finding a place to rest. 

Through sheer will, he pressed on as he felt blood and sweat soak his hair.
 
“Just a little more…”  He thought to himself.

Finally, after crawling with half of his body in ungodly pain and carrying heavy equipment, he arrived at what his mind automatically labeled as a boulder.

He swung his back, causing his back weights to win over the struggle for balance. He disarmed his backpacks as he turned around and rested himself against the large rest.

He caught his breath after using every ounce of available strength he could spare to get where he was. While his chest and legs tinged with pain, he felt little relief in the fact that he was in a more comfortable position. Without taking note of his surroundings, he dove his hand into the backpack and pulled out a handful of dusty stimpaks..

Using his free hand, the Wanderer unlocked a latch on his legs and chestplate, revealing the blue under-armor underneath. He jabbed the medical needles into the hidden fabric, piercing his pained skin. 

With a deep sigh, the Wanderer leaned back as the medicine was being distributed. An ocean of relief swept over him as his tear-jerking pain was being nulled away. He shut his eyes. His racing heart calmed as his body healed.  . 

The Wanderer patiently waited for his body to be healed, and instinctively, his idle hand reached behind himself to touch the support. But what he touched wasn’t solid stone. 

Huh? What is this stuff?

His fingers made out that the surface consisted of thick, crusty plates that seemed to always hold a gap between. Though he was able to break off a corner, they all were harder than metal if unified. The feeling of confusion was all the Wanderer could feel, especially with deja vu.

But opening his eyes seemed to answer his questions. 

What the…?

No gasp escaped his mouth as much as his vision was filled with awe. The Wanderer came from a land where only you could see the dead husks, and here he was, sitting underneath what was a large, healthy tree.

He stared deeply into the high, green leaves that acted as a natural umbrella. Bright light seeped through the thin cracks of the vibrant leaves. The sunlight flickered as the leaves danced with a chime whenever a light breeze dashed through. 

His widened eyes relaxed as he set his gazes elsewhere.

Of course, immediately the first thing in sight is the mothership, which was much, much bigger than the Wanderer initially thought, bigger than a few Rivet Cities. The hull was badly damaged, to the point where it could barely even be called a saucer. Electrical fires sprouted on where open wire was exposed. Ugly towers of smoke reached high above.

Instead of focusing on the floating hell from space, he scanned the nearby area in wonder. Fuzzy, green grass coated the hard soil, giving it a little cushioning. 

The Wanderer was seated in a surprisingly open area in what appeared to be a forest. Acting as stern walls, leafy trees surrounded the mothership. The brown bark was faded in the shadows,. He gazed at the tall plants, mesmerized by this new encounter with vegetation. His Pipboy was silent from the clicks of radiation that seemed to be ubiquitous, and even went as far to exist in Oasis.

While the trees and grass were vaguely familiar to him, what was above the mothership, however, was something entirely new. 
 
He looked up into the vast blue sky with a shade that looked to have been taken straight from a children’s storybook. Though it was rather dark, fresh sunlight lit up the ocean in the air and reached down to the soil. The occasional puffy white cloud floated by nonchalantly. To see a sky that was not tainted by radiation was definitely something to take in.
 
Chirps reached his ears inside the helmet. Looking closer at the trees, he saw little, colorful creatures that sang beautiful songs. They gracefully glided through the air, landing themselves in the openings of the canopies. It was like watching a different type of people, seeing them interact with others, sing together like choruses and enjoying themselves.

Little fuzzy rats sometimes made an appearance. With bushy, brown tails, they scampered all around with speeds and agility that no human in power armor could compete with. 

The Lone Wanderer then gently rested his hands on his lap as a smile unconsciously grew on his face. These sights and sounds are what Earth was supposed to be like. A strange feeling was emerging within himself.

He had no desire to draw his pistol at the slightest ruffle in the leaves. His eyes were given permission to wander freely, admiring the lush landscape in an endless cycle. Though he regained control in his legs, he remained seated to admire his environment.

This has got to be a dream… I have to wake up.

He pretty much expected something to jump out at him, guns blazing. No floating bobbleheads mocked his failures either, so he felt more and more strange. His unease for the silence eventually diminished when nobody tried to tell him that he was sleeping.

Between seeing the chirping birds, fuzzy green grass, tall oaks, thick leaves, vibrant blue skies, the bright sunshine and the fluffy squirrels, he felt something he previously never felt before, not even in Vault 101.

...But this is a good dream.

His heart finally calmed. The desire to prepare himself for self-defence disappeared, and he became glad at that loss. The Wanderer stared off into space when he then learned that he had arrived the noble goal that many have fought and died for. 

Is this what peace feels like?

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*

“Hmm?”

His silent trance was broken when he heard faint thumping. His mind automatically assumed that it was a raider getting the drop on him, and his muscles shot back to life.

Standing up, he collected his equipment and drew his laser rifle, ready for anything that would try to kill him. No gunshots were heard nor any deathclaws leaped from the bushes. The strange thumping noise continued at a certain distance. The Wanderer trekked over towards the source to investigate.

“What the hell is that?” He asked himself to check on his own voice. 

Even though it appeared daytime, it was rather difficult for the Wanderer to see across the forest. After pushing his way through thick bushes, sidestepping from blocking trees and hopping over protruding roots, he found something else. 

You’ve got to be kidding me.

It was a ship, or at least he thought it was. After all, what else from Earth could actually make it here with him?

Digging into the ground was a large, rocket-shaped object with a bright-white paintjob. The design reminded him of the Delta IX rocket he has seen in the museum of history, but at the same time, it looked completely alien. What was supposed to be its hull was now an absolute wreck, with some panels being ripped off completely. A few holes that looked to be torn open were noted by the Wanderer. 

A broken protectron was laying on the ground nearby, with it’s cranial dome smashed in and body ripped in half. The close proximity and handling of the robot caused the Wanderer’s skin to itch and made him grasp his rifle in a tighter grip.

He shuffled himself in front of what was the black nose of the shuttle, which was now buried in a mound of dirt. 

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*

The Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks when the thump noise grew louder. Looking above the nose of the shuttle, he found the source. What appeared to be the sole of a boot was kicking at what the Wanderer assumed as the cockpit window. He stepped back to further his visibility of what seemed to be a person. 

*KRSH!*

Fingers coiled themselves around the laser rifle tightly to the sound of glass shattering. With weapon in ready, the Lone Wanderer watched the visor of the ship, where he could see the edges of a long coat swinging around on the inside.

“Finally...” He thought he heard a man’s voice mutter.

Out of nowhere, a dufflebag threw itself from the pilot’s chamber, landing with a ordinary thud across from the Wanderer. He showed little reaction, The Wanderer was already focused on identifying the silhouette that was moving around the inside of the ship.

The Wanderer’s nose twitched at something that smelled… organic.

What the hell is that?

He could swear his nose picked up the scent of roasted brahmin near the ground. A quick glance towards the duffle bag just raised more questions

A strange maple staff with a bronze eagle statue at the tip was protruding from the opening. He also caught the faint mucus glows on what seemed to be a plasma rifle, but much bigger. There was also a faint glow of orange inside with the shape of a cylinder that reminded him of a Tesla Cannon, but this was too small to be one.

Looking back up to the shuttle, he could now see what was the behind of a man trying to climb himself out through the window. He appeared to be protected by leather armor while wearing a dirty longcoat. There was some sort of symbol painted on the back, but from the Wanderer’s view, he could not make it out.

The man’s boot lost its foothold on the bent nose and he lost his balance. The Wanderer acted as the sole audience member for the man’s stunt, watching him tumble down the nose of the shuttle. The colors red, white and blue briefly flashed in his mind as the man rolled towards the soil.

“Oh shit, Oh shit!”

*THUD!*

After plopping himself onto the dirt, he quickly picked himself up. Already onto his feet in the quickest recovery from a fall, he pushed his shaggy, black hair out of his eyes and dusted himself off. 

“Here I thought there was a destruction bonus…”

The Wanderer said nothing as he examined the duster the man was wearing, which only piqued his curiosity.

The symbol of the Old World was painted straight onto his back, as if it was trying to display itself to everyone around. “Old World Justice” was stitched in white text above the tri-colored sigil. American history class in Vault 101 was one of the first images the popped into his mind, and second place of doing the pledge of allegiance in class every day, with third place of being a group of sinister soldiers.

Sand-yellow specks scattered across the dusty outfit. His arms and legs were covered in leather latches and straps that appeared to have been worn. A Pipboy was attached onto the man’s right arm, glowing a dry amber. 

“Jeez, Toaster is gone, and now this,” the man murmured to himself, “and I didn’t even get to the damn moon! Some assholes…” 

Huh? Toaster? Moon? What on Earth is this person talking about?

The power armor-clad Wanderer tilted his head while the weird man remained oblivious to his presence. He continued to mumble nonsense to himself in disdain, where the Wanderer simply listened to the his voice.

Why does this man seem so… familiar?

The strange man looked back up to the smoking ship with hands on his hips in a pride-like pose. 

“That’s what I call a landing job!” He praised in an upbeat tone. “Fucking landing. When it says ‘up’ what is up? Move up or pull up on the controls?” He said in an annoyed tone.

“What?” The Wanderer blurted in a quiet tone. 

“What the-?!”

The duster-wearing man flinched at the sound of the Wanderer’s voice. He lowered his hands by his belt and glanced behind himself. His blue eyes widened and limbs froze at the sight of the Wanderer, who stared back at him like he caught him sneaking a hand in the cookie jar. 

Oh shit.

The two figures started at each other without the slightest on what to do next. It was absolute silence between them, aside from the whistling leaves and crackles of the electrical fires. The first question that ran through both of their minds was, “Friend or Foe?” But that was only the Wanderer’s assumption.

The unarmed man showed no fear in his eyes when confronted with someone covered in T-51b combat power armor with a laser rifle in arms. The eyes of this man suddenly furrowed into anger after he recognized what kind of armor his opponent was wearing, and what kind of people wear it. 

And the Wanderer could give a puzzled expression to the duster-wearing man, even though the Wanderer’s face was concealed behind his helmet. The symbol the man wore on his back brought the Wanderer some rather painful memories involving his father, but he suppressed them for the time being. 

They watched each other’s movements with extreme caution and perception, ready to draw at something as miniscule as a cough. Sweat slowly condensed on their faces as their itchy trigger fingers flexed.

Finally, both drew their weapons, with the sights leveled at each other almost simultaneously.

The weird man drew two sidearms from his hips: an ivory plated revolver, and a strange energy weapon at what appeared to be a toy gun straight from Captain Cosmos.

The Wanderer had to use the weapon he had direct access to, and aimed his laser rifle between the barrels of the opposing weapons. The silent stalemate ended with both opening their mouths with words being thrown across.
 
“What the fuck are you doing here!?”

“What the fuck are you doing here!?”


***





***


Three fillies traversed through the Everfree Forest, taking each step with care and excitement, as if they were exploring a mystical jungle. 

The day remained bright and cloudless, giving them ease to navigate their way through the dense forest, both physically and mentally. Besides twigs being bent by hooves, leaves hissing to wind and other animals and faint birdsong acted as the ambient sounds.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Scootaloo?” Applebloom asked with, “Ah mean, Applejack and Big Macintosh are gonna throw a real fit when they find out that I left.” The trio of fillies pushed themselves through a wall of leaves that obstructed their unguided path.

“Heck yeah it is! How could we miss out on a chance like this?” The orange filly leaped over a puddle of mud as if it was a pool of lava. “I mean, did you see those things in the sky? They were like ‘Neeeaaa!’ and then they crashed into Canterlot and went ‘Kabooom!’”  
 
Scootaloo’s two companions stopped themselves at the mud puddle and trotted along the dry borders of it. Applebloom habitually glanced at the way they came. Her heart began to race when she saw that the trail they traveled on was now barely recognizable. 

“Yeah, but then there was th’ part when we had to sneak past some of the guards when they told us to not go in,” the yellow filly looked back to her two friends and sped up to match their pace, “so now we’re really gonna get in trouble.”

The pegasus filly rolled her eyes. “Oh would you just relax? It’s gonna be all worth it in the end when we get our cutie marks!” Sweetie Belle and Applebloom’s interests were then raised and they looked at Scootaloo for clarification.

“Why do you think so?” The white filly asked.

Scootaloo stopped and looked back to her friends with excitement on her wings. “Don’t you ponies remember Applejack’s and the other ponies’ stories? They were just minding their business when ‘Wham!’” The orange filly stomped the grassy ground, “Rainbow Dash’s Sonic Rainboom came out of nowhere! And from that, they got their cutie marks!”

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle exchanged quizzical glances. “Won’t that mean we will need a Sonic Rainboom?” The pink-maned unicorn asked, still feeling confused. 

“No,” Scootaloo shook her head irritably, “remember what we said yesterday? We said that there were two things that their stories had in common: That the Sonic Rainboom was awesome, and the ponies were totally not expecting it! And I think that this incident totally qualifies as both!” She held her hoof out towards the two pillars of smoke, which acted as the marker for their destination.

Small smiles emerged on the fillies’ faces as they recalled the events yesterday and the Elements’ cutie mark stories. The connections that their de facto leader at the moment made sense. Their ears perked up and gave bigger smiles of understanding.

“Oh yeah, you’re right! That makes much more sense.” Applebloom happily remarked, “Why didn’t Ah think of that sooner?” 

“Of course!” Sweetie Belle added, “This just didn’t happen out of nowhere!”

“I agree, this isn’t just some coincidence, especially since we talked about this just yesterday. This is the work of…” Scootaloo said while leaning closer with a plotting grin. “...Destiny!” She proclaimed while waving both of her forelegs in an explosive manner.

“Yeah, let’s go get our cutie marks!” The gray unicorn agreed.

“Then it’s settled!” Scootaloo lifted her hoof above her head, towards the empty space between the three. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders will now officially hunt the crashed object to get our cutie marks! Are we ready?”

“Yeah!” All three cheered and clopped their hooves simultaneously.  

The black smokestacks in the day sky were caught in Applebloom’s sights. “So, um, what exactly are we finding?” She asked, unwittingly slowing the team velocity. 

The momentum of the team obtaining their goal was halted as well as their conversation. All three of the fillies idly looked around and gazed at the smokestacks that their journey was headed for.

“Maybe it’s a shooting star?” Suggested Sweetie Belle with uncertainty in her voice. “I’ve never see one up close before.”

“Yeah, maybe it is,” Applebloom agreed moderately, “and ah don’t think anypony has seen one up close.”

Scootaloo shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Ugh, no you guys, that’s too boring!” She groaned in impatience, “It’s something super cool! I know it!”

The remaining Crusaders tilted their heads quizzically. “Well, what do you think it is then?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Well it was really cool, so it’s… it’s...” The orange filly rubbed her chin until her expression exploded from an idea. “...It’s aliens!”

“Aliens?” The two fillies repeated. 

“Well how do you know that?” The earth pony asked.

“Well…” Scootaloo’s eyes wandered off momentarily. 

“Oh yeah!” She snapped, “The shooting star that crashed into Canterlot looked wicked crazy! It was all black and white, and it had a weird shape, like a spaceship!” She then gasped at another idea. “Guys, alien cutie mark! That would be so awesome! Think about it!”

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle took their friend’s word and thought for a moment. Indeed, the concept of not only meeting aliens but getting alien cutie marks was something worth commemorating. They then realized that alien cutie marks would be something very, very unique in Equestria. 

“Well oh mah stars, we could be the only ponies to have alien cutie marks!” Applebloom exclaimed in agreement.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Scootaloo turned towards the smokestacks. “Let’s go!”

Fueled by excitement, the trio of fillies raced off to their destination with fame in mind. Sweat began to condense on their colorful coats from the running they were doing. Laughter and friendly taunts were exchanged as their goal approached closer and closer..

The two following Crusaders eventually found themselves running into an immobile object. Bumping into each other, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom fell to the hard soil, feeling dazed from the sudden collision. They looked up to see Scootaloo, who remained stone still.

“Hey, what are you doing Scootaloo?” Sweetie Belle asked in outrage. The standing pegasus said nothing. “Scootaloo?” She asked again, in a softer voice.

The two foals stood onto their hooves and shuffled next to Scootaloo to see what was the matter. Her eyes were wide as dinnerplates as she stared deeply in front of herself.

Their ears folded down. “Scootaloo?” No answer, but her bottom lip then trembled.

“G-guys…” She stammered with fear in her eyes, “...L-l-look.” The frozen filly slowly raised her hoof, barely pointing in the vicinity that was straight across from her.

The remaining Crusaders looked at what she was hinting at, and joined her shocked trance after their heart skipped a beat. Sweat that was not of exercise streaked down their skin.

There was… something way ahead of them. A dark, muscular-looking figure stood tall and strong underneath a large tree, with what appeared to be four legs supporting it. Though it was close to noon, the shadows from the tree inhibited clear visibility. It looked like it had short, little head and thick arms. Its body was more wide than it was tall.

After gulping, the Cutie Mark Crusaders retreated behind a nearby bush, where they then peaked over the low shrub to watch the figure’s every move. So far, it did not flinch at their sudden dive.

“What the heck is that thing?” Whispered Sweetie Belle, whose heart was increasing in tempo.

“I don’t know,” Scootaloo whispered back, drawing her head closer down below cover.

“Does it know we’re here?” Applebloom asked.

“I don’t know…”

The fillies proceeded to keep watch on the strange being, ducking down and jumping back up to see no change. The being simply stood motionless and without reaction to the ruffles of the bush and occasional bird that flew close to it.

“Maybe it’s sleeping,” Scootaloo said, “should we check it out?”

The trio silently debated with each other until they all gave stiff nods. “Okay, let’s be real careful.”

The Crusaders hunched down, being as close to the ground as possible. Their hoofsteps were almost silent, as they took each step with extreme care and fear. As they got closer, the chilling individual seemed to get taller and taller. 

They halted their advance when they saw that they were directly behind it, and had to gaze upwards to get an overall view.

The strange being had an iron-grey coat that dully shined whatever stray light that managed to make contact with it. Shuffling around to see its face, they discovered that it balanced on three thick legs. Instead of hooves, metal spheres with a bumpy texture were attached to the ends. 

The way that it stood reminded the little ponies on how photographers took photos with large cameras, using a little, wooden stand.

Looking at the grey being in front, the trio took step back in fear as they beheld themselves in front of the hulking individual. They also stepped back because at eye level, all they could see is the being’s knee.

A part of the intimidation factor came from the buff, upper body, which had a very thick torso with shoulder blades that made it seem wider and stronger. Instead of a face, there was a black visor that was shielded by several iron bars on the short head. 

Even more muscular than the stumpy legs were the long arms, where one of them had an orange tip protruding at the hoof.

The body of it was rather beaten up, with huge dents all across, like it was dropped from a very tall height. Few skin panels were missing, allowing different colored intestines to hang outside. 

The silence became rather unsettling since it hunched over, not taking a single breath in its sleep. The overall being gave an aura of fear, that even one glance would be enough for anypony to simply turn tail and race home.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders gazed at it and shivered. A frightening silence filled the atmosphere as they inched away from it one hoof at a time.

Finally, Applebloom broke the unspoken tension. “Maybe the alien really is sleeping. Go wake it up Scootaloo,” she murmured.

“What? Me?!” The thrill-seeking pegasus whispered in shock, “What should I do?”

“Ah don’t know, just touch it or something!”

“Why should I do it?”

“Maybe because you said that there were aliens, and you wanted to meet them,” argued Applebloom, “Here’s one, so you should be the first one to talk to him.”

“Well… yeah but,” Scootaloo stammered with a louder tone, “but you wanted to wake it up, so you should do it!”

The dixie-accented filly raised her voice to match her friend’s. “Well maybe since this whole thing was your idea, you should be the one to wake it up!”

“Guys! Quiet down,” Sweetie Belle pleaded, halting the argument between the two friends, “we don’t want to wake it up in a very negative way. So how about we all go at once and try to wake it up?”

Applebloom and Scootaloo looked at each other after hearing the terms.

“Ah guess it’s reasonable, so how about you?”

Scootaloo shrugged.  “Fair enough I guess.” 

The menacing appearance made it difficult to approach it, but the three fillies gazed at the strange being and crept up close to it. 

When it was within hoof’s range, they all simultaneously reached out slowly and tapped the knee of the alien. Immediately after, they scrambled and stomped back and hid behind an nearing tree.

“Did it… wake up?” Applebloom gasped. The ponies waited for their wild hearts to settle and peeked over when the silence became unbearable. 

Both relief and fear washed across them after seeing the alien not move a single muscle. They left the cover of the thick three and faced the alien in awestruck.

“Well,” Sweetie Belle muttered, trying to calm their fears, “maybe it’s in a deep sleep-”

The filly’s words were halted when they looked back to the buff entity. The Cutie Mark Crusaders winced when they realized that the black dash on the being’s face was now glowing red. The arms moved very slowly, as if it was regaining control of a body it lost.

The fillies chattered their teeth and shivered from anxiety, while resisting the temptation to scream. With hammering hearts, they huddled together as they looked on helplessly. 

This should’ve been good for them. They wanted to wake the alien up, and they did. They are in direct eye contact and have its full attention, so why did they feel like that they just did something they should’ve never done?

The alien simply stood there, watching the foals just as they watched him. A small whirr whispered from the alien.

“W-when this is over,” Applebloom’s eyes settled on Scootaloo, with shaking legs near ready to collapse, “this is all your fault.”

It spoke in a deep, monotone voice, easily instilling more chills into the fillies’ spines.

“ADDING TARGET TO THREAT MATRIX!”


***





***


“What do you mean, ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ What the fuck are you doing here?!” The Courier asked in an almost mockingly outraged tone. 

“Me? It’s not like I wanted to be here, let alone asked!” The Wanderer retorted.  

“Bullshit.”

“You know what? Fine, fine I’ll answer!” He said after deciding to volunteer himself, “I got abducted by aliens, took control of the mothership, got struck by a missile, went through a wormhole and then crashed here. There! That’s my reason! Happy?” 

Finishing with a short groan, the Wanderer then awaited for the Courier’s overall response after he seemed to nod and say ‘yes’ at every 3 words. Gradually, both lowered their weapons after seeing how they didn’t try to kill each other.

The Courier set his gazes above the Wanderer, but was obviously not admiring the baby-blue sky. His mouth unconsciously opened as he was partaken in thought. The Wanderer caught this gesture and seized the moment to examine this eccentric person in closer detail. 

The Wanderer saw that the Courier wore what appeared to be combat armor underneath his sandy duster. Wrapped around his armor were several bandoliers, supplied with ammo packets and other items that would be needed in a quick moment of combat. He’s certainly not helpless that’s for sure.

Trying not to be rude, he redirected his attention back onto the Courier, who was still contemplating from his previous explanation. The few seconds that passed felt like minutes until he finally looked back to the Wanderer.

“Sure sure sure, I get ya,” he nodded as he holstered his pistols. “Except for the part where you had a bonfire!” His cheeky grin vanished as his voice raised in outrage. “Without me!?” 

“What?”

He pointed a trembling arm at where he was staring at earlier. A quick look from the Wanderer showed him the giant smokestack rising up from the mothership. “Oh, that? That’s from the mothersh-”

“How could you start up a bonfire without inviting me?! I mean, c’mon man! You can do better than that! I have marshmallows we could roast and we can sing the Campfire Song Song! How could you say ‘no’ to that!?”

“You barely even know me! We just-” The Wanderer paused himself before accepting defeat. “You know what, I’ll invite you next time, okay?” He said loathingly. “So how about you? What are you doing here?” The Wanderer then asked with a quick shaking of his head.

He gazed at the sky while lightly tapping his chin. 

“Hmm, let’s see here…” The eccentric man then drawled on like a child’s banter. “It all started a very long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, with the Think Tank, so they said that I could go to the moon, so I was like, ‘Cool! Okay!’ and then I got into a rocket and blasted off, and had some zero-gravity action shit, then some asshole in a SUSS got in the fucking way, and I teleported outta there, and then ran into some tall stuff for a destruction bonus!” He reached up with his lanky arms and tight fists. “Talk about awesome!” 

“Erm… right. I-I see,” the Wanderer said as he (reluctantly) matched the pieces together. Both of their stories seemed to add up and intertwine. The mothership was hit by a missile-shaped object while the other Courier’s space ship ran into a larger entity in space. It explained how their ships crashed, but it didn’t explain how they teleported and got here.

“Hey, where the hell are we?” The other man asked as he gazed around the environment. The Wanderer was a little boggled by the Courier’s legitimate question, but gained a grip on himself.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I have no idea, but I have two theories and their both out-of-whack,” the Wanderer answered, admiring the surrounding vegetation, “there’s the completely impossible odd of us traveling back in time to a prehistoric, or at least pre-war, Earth. Then there’s the more likely chance that we’re stranded on an alien planet.”

Wait… alien planet? Are we really on a new world? The Wanderer thought after hearing his own explanation. His heart hastened as he took in the idea more and more. 

Mankind always wondered if they were alone and they dreamed that one day that they would visit their neighbors of the universe. While he was giddy at the very thought, his visible excitement was ultimately downgraded from his encounter with the green people. But optimism still remained at the idea of meeting extraterrestrial life on their own world.

I’m the first man to set foot on another planet…

The only other celestial body humans have traveled to was the moon, but that happened at least three hundred years ago. The Lone Wanderer has done much in his life, but to accomplish an achievement on behalf of all mankind? The senses of honor pride for humanity lit up in his heart where those two traits remained absent for the longest time. 

Though the Capital Wasteland may have converted humanity back to savagery, it still felt good to the Wanderer to find another redeeming trait. 

It was a little disappointing to him that no one was here to acknowledge this moment in history.

He turned back to the Courier with a hidden smile. “So yeah, the best chance is that we’ve crash-landed on an alien planet.” 

The Courier then briefly shook his head. “Oh okay,” he said nonchalantly. The Wanderer’s smile vanished in an instant. 

“Wait, that’s your reaction?” The Wanderer’s voice sounded in outrage, “we’ve crashed onto an alien world that’s pretty much filled with alien life! Our chance to meet real aliens! Not to mention, we’re the first humans to travel to another planet, and that’s all you can really say?!” 

The long-coated man shrugged casually. “Yeah.”

“Oh forget it.” The Wanderer let out a deep sigh. He could not help but be in dumbstruck towards the man. He just crash-landed onto a new planet, immediately asked him questions and barely acknowledged their location.

“Woah woah woah! What the fuck?!” 

The Wanderer abruptly snapped out of his philosophical trance. “What? What is it?!” The armored traveler looked around to see what was causing his new acquaintance's distress. 

“Does this count as a plant?!”

The Courier pointed a trembling finger straight towards a thick tree that he could almost touch. Seeing this, the Wanderer strolled up next to him, thinking that he never even seen vegetation before. “Well, this is a tree, so yes, I think it qualifies as-”

Before he could finish his statement, his ears were too busy being filled with the roars of gunshots. 

Shielding himself with his arms, he regrasped his laser rifle and flinched back. The sounds of the gun desisted as quickly as they came; the Wanderer peeked through his shut eyelids.

The Courier stood only with a blank expression and his ivory-plated revolver in his hand. Hints of gunpowder made it to the Wanderer’s nose as thin lines of smoke emanated from the short barrel. Facing the luxurious gun was the tree the Courier was referring to earlier, which now had six miniscule holes in the thick bark.

“Alright, I guess it’s safe,” He mumbled as reloaded his revolver.

“What the hell was that for?!” The Wanderer asked while cringing his free hand.

Clicking the hammer of his gun, he looked back at the Wanderer. “Just making sure these things don’t come to life and eat us,” he murmured while scanning his environment. 

“Vault 22…” He mumbled with hatred, “those fucking jump-scares...”

“Right, I’ll just assume you’ve never seen a tree before then.” The Wanderer rolled his eyes. “So what do you think we should do now?” Somehow to him, it felt like a mistake to ask him that question.

The Courier gave the Wanderer a quizzical look. “You know, who the hell are you anyway?”

“Me?” The Wanderer paused himself. Should I really say who I am? Could I really trust this person with my real name? What should I say to him? But considering the circumstances... His fingers on his free hand silently snapped from an idea. That’s it! Three Dog you crazy bastard, you finally are helpful. 

“Just call me ‘Wanderer’.”

He raised an eyebrow. “‘Wanderer’ eh?” The Courier then crossed his jacketed arms as a small grin grew on his dirty face. “Then just call me ‘Courier’ if we’re just gonna do nicknames from now on, cuz’ that’s kinda cool.”

The power-armor clad Wanderer nodded. “Alright then, ‘Courier’,” he said, “but back to what I asked earlier: ‘What’s your input now on our situation?’”

The Courier’s expression of mutual distrust suddenly vanished into a chippy smile. “Hey, you got any snowglobes on you?” His tone sounded completely out of context. 

The Wanderer cocked his head, returning a puzzling glare. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, snowglobes! Little balls with snow inside and stuff?” He hyperactively gestured and fidgeted with his hands. “I’ll pay ya 50 caps on each!”

“Snowglobes? Why are you talking about them?”

“51 caps?”

“Caps? I..” The Wanderer’s patience was being tried as he held back his urge to scream. “You’re not helping us at all!”

The rambunctious man tilted his head while a cheeky smile grew. “Soooo, that’s a ‘yes’?”

“Oh god, it’s like talking to a child!” The Wanderer thrusted his arms up as he vigorously shook his head. “No! No I don’t have any snowglobes! What is wrong with you?!”

“Jeez if you wanted to say ‘no’ that you should’ve just did,” he said before crossing his arms and sticking his tongue at him.  “You’re a mean one… Mr. Wanderer,” the Courier mumbled in a deep,  singsong.

Before the Wanderer could say anything else, an explosion shook their attention. While the air and earth rumbled, they turned to see a cloud of combusted fire rise below the distant trees. A loud boom and what sounded to be screams of women echoed from afar. They both quickly dispersed into the baby-blue sky, leaving the two travelers stricken in surprise. 

“Oooooh, explosion!” The Courier commented like a child as he waved his arms in the air. “About damn time I see the real deal!”

The two shot brief glances at each other, with the Courier holding an even happier expression, which the Wanderer could only grow more puzzled at his acquaintance's antics.

 “C’mon! Let’s check it out!” He gleed before snatching his duffle bag and racing into the forest. “Alright! This chapter finally gets interesting!”

“Wait, what are you-” The Wanderer attempted to ask as he held his hand out in hesitation. “Forget it…” Watching the Courier slowly disappear into the thick trees, he then groaned and ran in after him. 

“Shouldn’t we be running away from explosions?” The Wanderer commented in his patterned breathing. Oh screw it, what the hell is causing that in the first place?

He jogged through the eerie forest with the jingles of his heavy gear. The amount of equipment he carried did not affect his pace due to the power armor’s enhancements. Eventually, to the Wanderer’s own surprise, he was able to catch up to the sprinting Courier, who was running at a considerable pace.

“You know, this reminds me of some horror movie holotapes,” the Wanderer said in an attempt of bonding, “like some teenagers running through a strange forest where screams were heard...” What else could he do? It was entirely possible that he was going to be working with him for a while.

“How cliche!”

The Courier looked at the Wanderer with interest in his eyes. “Hey, did those movies have explosions in them?”

“No they did not,” the Wanderer answered with a calm tone.

His expression deflated as he looked ahead with narrowed eyes. “Then those holotapes are not interesting.”


***





***


“AAAHHHHH!!!”

“Run! Run!”

“Applejack! Rarity! Rainbow Dash! Anypony! Help!”

The trio of fillies screamed their lungs out as their pursuer persistently followed them, shouting statements in an deep, authoritative voice. They could hear their own heartbeats as they hyperventilated upon each step they took. Sadly no returning calls of aid were heard.

Showing no regard for the mud and dirt they splashed in, they raced towards the way they at least thought they came from.

They relied on Applebloom to lead the way, but she was just as lost herself. Whenever they came across a fork in their path, she only took guesses, with hopes that they would find themselves on a familiar passage and take over from there. 

Unfortunately they took stray turn after stray turn, as if they were scrambling in the dark.

Somehow, the monster didn’t quite catch them at this point. Though they didn’t realize, whenever the fillies swerved past a thick tree, the tri-pedal beast had difficulty maneuvering around, giving the little ponies precious time to escape, but the rapid sprints it performed only made up for it. Mud puddles and fallen trees also seemed to delay its chase.

Whenever crimson beams zipped around them, they instinctively ducked as the projectiles were recklessly abandoned. With a low mechanical whirr, red lasers darted overhead very rapidly. 

The fillies learned to not get touched by the lights after a close call involving ash and smoke sprouting from the bark of a tree.

Tears dripped from their eyes as they felt themselves lose stamina. It seemed like this was straight out of a horror novel, but felt too real for a dream. Nopony was willing to test the sleep theory, so all they could do was run for the lives. 

Even though the monster could talk, it wasn’t interested in talking to them, only attacking. Somehow, it created an explosion earlier from a strange projectile; nearly sending them into pieces. 

Regrets surfaced in their minds how they should’ve just listened and didn’t enter the Everfree forest in the first place.

Please no more explosions, please no more explosions... Scootaloo desperately thought, still shaken from the first one. Though she claimed to be a big fan of the pyrotechnic shows, she reevaluated some facts when a long wooden shard jabbed into a nearby tree. 

Their small ears barely picked up a small huff that came from behind themselves. The fillies (or anypony in this matter) have never seen anything this creature brought to the table before. The air hummed a low pitch that gradually became louder and louder.

The fillies yelped and stiffened their joints at the sight of the bottle-shaped object zipping. When the red-tipped projectile came into full view, the Cutie Mark Crusaders halted themselves as they watched it propel itself towards a nearby tree. 

The missile and tree both vanished into a cloud of intense inferno. The average forest tree disappeared as unsteady shock waves dispersed throughout the forest. 

The little ponies stumbled back onto their haunches as they stared at the tree, now torn apart and surrounded by fire. Teeth chattering and legs trembling, they shivered as if a cold chilled their souls.

Knowing that they were still not safe, they turned to see their distant pursuer slowly roll towards them. The Crusaders frantically searched around, but the nearby trees were too thick and dense for them to simply sidestep themselves to safety. 

Staring deeply at the monster’s blood red eyes, they huddled together as the dams of the fillies’ eyes burst, allowing warm tears to flood out. Lifetime’s worth of memories flashed into their eyes in moments when they couldn’t deny that this was the end. 

“Ah wanna go home!” Applebloom whimpered, struggling to even breathe normally.

“Me too!” Scootaloo tearfully agreed, where then all three bawled, spreading their cries through the labyrinth of a forest. The three-legged menace halted itself before lifting one of its arms and stiffly pointed it towards the trio, making the fillies cringe and clamp their eyes shut.

“HOSTILE DETECTED! COMMENCING NEUTRALIZATION!”

*FZZZT!*

The Cutie Mark Crusaders braced themselves for a barrage of red beams or a flying, exploding thingy, yet just waiting proved to them that those fears were false.

A hollow hope was crafted inside of their minds, that they were not in any danger, or not anymore at the very least. They peeked from their closed eyes to be proven that their minds and ears didn’t deceive them.

The fearsome titan was no longer preoccupied with destroying them, but it was now… dancing? That’s what the Crusaders thought it was doing, why else would it just be spazzing about?

It vibrated its cylindrical arms all around, occasionally swerving them to the side. Thin fingers of electricity continuously tickled the menace. The thick shoulders and torso shook as if it was jigging to a guitar tune. Though their tears did not stop, the fillies lifted themselves up, feeling a little more confident at the strange turn of events.

“Wha-”

Before Sweetie Belle could finish her statement, all three of them yelped and flinched back. Somewhere from the side, crimson beams struck the menace multiple times, but didn’t seem to hold any effect. 

*FZZT!*

A strange, faded blue halo was hurled from the same direction, striking the monster with the appearance of heavy impact. 

Now wrapped in a blanket of volts, the colossus sputtered and spazzed until it hunched down, staring at the grass as its red face faded away. It became still and quiet as a stone. 

The terrifying panic ended with their chasing beast falling into a permanent slumber.

None of them dared to approach the alien’s monolithic husk. They all stood still and braced for any movement from it that would otherwise doom them. A new voice caused them to jump rigid, but listening closely, it didn’t announce itself with such an evil tone.

“You see, that is how you fry robots!” A jocular male boasted. “Not like that stupid laser rifle ya’ got there; doesn’t do shit to sentry bots.”

“I must admit, that certainly is quite a weapon,” another male responded, who sounded more mature. “I’ve never seen anything like it, not discounting the fact that I just crawled out of a mothership-”

“Are you sure you don’t have any snowglobes?”

“Yes! I’m sure!”

“Aww…” He sounded so distraught, but abruptly stated, ”so the search continues!”

“What is it with you and snowglobes? Some secret plot.”

The fillies cringed when he suddenly yelled, “YOU’LL NEVER GET MY ROBOT BLOATFLY!!”

The second voice was clearly confused. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” the first voice trailed off dismissively. “Juuuuuust nothing…”

Walking on two legs, two tall aliens approached the disabled sentry bot, failing to notice the fillies’ helpless presence. One of which wore crusty leather pants, a long-sleeved jacket, a lengthy duster, and a shaggy, black mane on what appeared to be his head. His skin had a slight tint of tan and his limbs were rather lanky.

The latter, unlike the strange adventurer-like person, had no skin exposed. Rather, his entire body was covered at what was steel armor that greatly resembled one of a knight. But not even his eyes were visible as the plates looked more for being it being intimidating than for some decorative purpose. 

The fillies remained silent with fear, carefully eyeing these two aliens that they…

Just understood?

Upon realizing that they were actually able to understand these strange creatures, their state of terror was mitigated as they looked on, more out of curiosity than survival instinct. They two aliens were doing… something to that three-legged demon. They were fiddling with its chest?

“Got a missile here,” the knight alien said, juggling the projectile in his hand.

“And some energy cells here,” the other one finished in a normal tone that invoked the other’s curiosity. “What caused this thing to go agro and just rampage through the woods?” 

His expression suddenly exploded with fury on top of his voice. “Damn thing probably got a higher destruction score than me!”

The metal-plated alien stood up and frisked the chin of his helmet. He looked down at the razor grass and through the woods where the sentry bot rolled from. 

He then shrugged. “I suppose it was just something like a squirrel or molerat that provoked it.” 

The duster-wearing alien snapped his head up and duly stared into his companion’s black visor. “Bullshit.”

"What?"

“I said that’s bullshit.” He stood up and thrusted his two fists onto his hips, posing proudly as he stared idly into the thick woods. “I mean, what else do these damn things attack besides us?”

 The knight appeared that he was about to say something, but paused himself and rubbed the chin of his helmet. He then carelessly waved his hands about as he steadied himself on both of his feet. “You know, you kind of creep me out when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Nevermind,” he mumbled.

While the two aliens fidgeted with the metal monster, the three fillies looked on in silence, with their expressions showing conflicting between confronting and fleeing. To them, these aliens didn’t seem so mean, but they just witnessed their capabilities.

Scootaloo, limbs gone stiff, gestured to her two friends to follow her lead of shuffling away. 

*KRICK!*

The line of their shallow escape was shattered when a twig snapped underneath a hoof. Their bones froze in place as the jocular alien, fully alert, instantaneously swerved his head and eyeballed the little ponies. 

The air suddenly dropped to stillness; one pair of stern eyes faced off against three pairs of frightened ones, and one-member team was winning.  

This is it, we’re done for, the trio of ponies thought as the alien glared at them in utmost silence. There they stood, first contact between two extraterrestrial species, waiting for the first words between the lifeforms. Somepony, please help, they’re gonna eat us!

The other alien continued to talk idly until he realized his partner’s lack of crazy comments. The knight alien cocked his head at the sight of his unusually focused companion. “Is… something wrong?”

The armored being recoiled back when that stern expression changed to a more troubling one. A soft grin traced along his lips as his eyes shuttered peacefully. “Am I on chems?”

“What?” The knight cocked his head further to the side.

A solemn frown took form with sincere eyes. “Be honest with me here, am I high on something like Jet or Med-X? I really don’t feel so good.”

The fillies could’ve swore that the knight mumbled something as he shuffled over to the identical being. Their ears picked up something along the lines of, “-nt Lookout all over again...” 

White eyes and a black visor met in a firm glare when the metal helmet leaned into close to the bare face. It then slowly backed away after briefly scanning the face. The knight-alien straggled back a whole pony’s distance and crossed his arms.

“You don’t seem to be exhibiting any symptoms of excessive drug use,” he said, shaking his head, with a level-headed demeanor, “so I would only assume that you either built up a large tolerance to the effects, or, most likely, not under any chem influence.”

The prodding alien’s expression grew as if he gained enlightenment. “Ooooh, okay, I get it now!” He thumped his fist into an open palm. “So THAT’S the reason why….” 

“Why’s what?”

He gave a sheepish smile and ruffled his hair. “Because I’ve got this headache and thought I got spiked, so it would mean that hurts and I got a headache and stuff… and stuff.”

“Right, clearly there’s more ‘stuff’ involved.”

“Like more explosions?!” He giddied.

“Don’t push it.”

“Oh yeah! I totally forgot! How could I forget something so important?” The chippy-mooded alien abruptly snapped his fingers. “Today is still shotgun-brahmin day, so more explosions are welcomed!”

The tone of the armor-clad creature was beginning to sound irritated. “If that is your version of Thanksgiving, then I feel bad for the invitees...”

With regarding the previous comment, the shaggier one’s eyes boredly narrowed with a neutral frown. “Oh yeah, on less important news, look that way; something over there that might interest an egghead like you.”

“What are you talking abou-” He choked on a gasp upon glancing where the stiffened arm pointed. Words failed to fumble from the alien, only inaudible squeaks of astonishment could heard.

The fillies’ hearts throbbed in their ears as their bones shivered submissively. Neither of the trio could speak, fearing that the intimidating alien would only be angered. 

But its eyes were not danger red like the other, and it seemed considerate towards them when it slowly unhitched its huge backpack.

Their eyes could not be swayed away as their teeth chattered with uncertainty. 

“What’s going to happen to us?” Sweetie Belle managed to squeak in the tiniest of voices. “Is it evil?”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo could only briefly avert their attention to Sweetie Belle as their fates ultimately laid in the hands of these two aliens, who stared at them ominously. 

Finally, one out the duo of aliens took a step forth that would end the stalemate between two lifeforms.

***

What the? What… are they? The Lone Wanderer was at a lost at words upon seeing what the Courier had just showed him. Are they actually sapient aliens?

He stared at what was the trio of creatures who looked back at him with wide eyes and quivering bodies. Underneath that thick helmet, his concealed mouth opened, but no words fell out; only muffled gasps were what the Wanderer could exhale.

Confounded, the Wanderer forcefully blinked his eyes before carefully eying the trio of animals. Much to the Wanderer’s skepticism, the animals’ skin were vibrantly colored with a fashionably contrasting hair and tail color. They were no taller than his knees. The Wanderer saw an uncanny resemblance of them towards the extinct animal of… horses, if he remembered correctly.

He then realized that that the orange one had folded appendages on her side that looked like wings. The white one had a protrusion in her pink hair that appeared to be a horn. The yellow horsey didn’t have any of those distinguishing traits, but instead, had a red bowtie crested on her rose hair.

Just what are they? 

Looking at the way their equine bodies trembled as well as the combusted tree behind them, it became evident that they were the reason for the sentry bot’s aggression. Poor things, if we hadn’t come along…

He strangled and buried those thoughts. He didn’t want to think about it.

It wasn’t clear to him whether or not they harbored some sapience. They mumbled something to each other, but it could be him. The yellow one had a bowtie, and that was something that didn’t just “appear.” Maybe they’re like the children here.  

The ongoing silence was getting to him; something had to be done.

But he knew he had to be careful about it; the ungulated juveniles looked terrified. Between them nearly getting blown up by a fearsome sentry-bot and his own intimidating power armor, he had to choose his actions wisely.   

The Wanderer wanted to show these horse-like aliens that he had no ill intentions. He finally broke the stalemate by gently unhitching his over-sized backpack and carefully lowering it onto the grass-covered soil. He holstered his laser rifle onto his back to show them he no longer could threaten them.

He took it as a sign of progress when he discovered that the trio of aliens’ eyes followed and analyzed him. 

This is it. 

He was just about to take the first step towards them…

...And the Courier already beat him to the chase.

Before he could realize it, his slaphappy companion had already shuffled over and stood a shogun range away from the vibrant children. 

His alloy-covered fists clenched as the alien children looked up to him with more fear. What the hell is he doing!?

The Courier stared down at them with a straight and severe expression. The little aliens clenched their eyes shut and pulled away when the Courier abruptly bent down, arms resting on his legs, as he beamed at them on their eye level. He peculiarly cocked his head to and fro.

The Wanderer opened his mouth to call out to the Courier, but he restrained himself. If he were to try to berate him or perform a sudden action, the equines would only be frightened even further. 

He silently prayed that the Courier had some tactfulness in a time like this.

Silent with a cold demeanor, the Courier slowly turned to gaze at the disabled sentry bot before turning back to the ponies. The sternness of his eyes loosened as a warm grin traced on his lips. 

Curious, the equine children cracked their eyes open when he gave a soft chuckle. Instead of backing away, the little ponies gradually regained their posture while wiping their tear-soaked eyes.

“Don’t worry, everything’s alright,” the Courier snickered with a jolly tone.

With feelings of admiration, the Wanderer crossed his arms. “Nice work…”

It seemed that he had underestimated his eccentric partner, watching the ungulated creatures grow more comfortable. He watched as the Courier gave the horses a thumbsup. Upon seeing their eyes filled with awe instead of fear, the Wanderer approached the scene.   

The Courier sorely stood up and posed himself into another prideful stance. He then quietly inhaled a breath that seemed to last for a blue moon. The Wanderer was about to introduce himself…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Everyone surrounding the Courier threw themselves back as if the Courier himself was a human bomb that just detonated with madness. The delicate moment of bonding between two extraterrestrial species was instantly shattered.  

The Wanderer hobbled back with his hand instinctively reaching for his pistol. Upon briefly scanning the area, there was no immediate threat to them. He watched the Courier scream like a mad-man as he clutched his head and rolled on the grass in a fetal position. The Wander then noticed that trio of equine creatures, petrified, didn’t scream, who too shocked or tired to even do so.

The man in power-armor approached the openly suffering man and slowly dropped onto a knee, leaning in close. “Whoa woah woah! Calm down! Calm down! What is wrong?!” 

The Wanderer nearly yelled when the Courier suddenly grasped his plated shoulders with ghoulish fingers.

As if from cold Courier’s shoulders shiver in a suffering manner. Finally the Courier looked up at the Wanderer with a pained grimace glaring grimly through the opaque visor. “What’s the matter?”

Through chattering teeth, the Courier’s words warped with fear. “M… my god, I… I think I’m g-going to die.”The mailman gave an ill cough. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

That sense of crisis in the wasteland returned to the Wanderer. “Hold on, hold on, just relax,” he assured as he seated the Courier onto the earth. “How are you feeling? Is this from some sort of chronic illness that has been with you?”

Question after question the Wanderer asked, but the Courier couldn’t respond in his maelstrom. The wounded man fell onto the forest floor. He eventually mustered the strength to give him an answer after the Wanderer helped him sit up. 

“There. Over there.” He intoned with a dark demeanor, raising a stiff arm. “Look.”  

The Wanderer looked over where the Courier’s trembling hand pointed. He grew more complex at what was just the three ponies, who catatonically stared back at him. “I don’t quite understand, what about them brings you worry.”

“...u.”

“What is it? C’mon, just spell it out for me.”

“...cute.”

The Wanderer’s hidden mouth opened, but no words escaped. “...what?”

“...so ...cute.”

Silence fell upon them once again, leaving the crackles of the lingering fires and ambience of nature. The Wanderer abruptly released his grasp on the Courier, making him fall onto the floor with a hard *oof!* and groan.

“.......”

“I mean, just look! They’re so damned cute!”

“.......”

“Oh my gosh, they’re so cute that I don’t think I can take it anymore!” He groaned in agony, hugging his head as he childishly tumbled around. “It feels like my head is going to explode from the overload of cuteness!”

The trio of exotic-colored ponies looked to each other, confounded at this abrupt truth. They then found the courage to grin at the amusing sight of the childish, high-strung alien with the astonishly-petrified knight.

The Wanderer’s metallic fingers clenched into fists. “...Courier?” He said in a low voice.

The manchild snorter, harrumphed and spat. “Yeah?”

“Can I say something?” He was beginning to sound exasperated.

“What’cha got?” He snapped his fingers. “Ooo! Is it a snow globe?”

The Wanderer slowly shook his head. “Courier… I’m going to kill you.”