There are differences between me and that mare on the radio. I didn't leave the Stable on choice, I didn't leave with an objective, and I certainly didn't expect my life to be long-lived. Then I met this strange mad stallion...
Living in Stables weren't the nicest, or even good palce to live out here... considering for being the general, 'helper' in the Stable. But it was safe. Nothing outside could go inside, and nothing inside could go outside.
Unless, that is, if you got the short-straw.
And I just got that.
Kicked out of my own home, I was left to tend on my own on this hellish hole called the Wasteland... to die.
Then I found myself captured by slavers, ready to be a new play-toy with a madly obsessive Stallion.
Said stallion saved me from my impending doom.
Said stallion also believes himself to be a good guy, another word for a hero.
And perhaps it was the wreck I called my mind, or simply my addled mind. I chose to follow him.
“Please attention, civilians, this is the Overmare Sunken Voice, please gather in the common room, the drawing will start in five minutes.”
The voice resounded, echoing in the whole stable from the intercom.
Today was not a good day. It wasn’t supposed to be. I gulped, looking around only to see the resignations of everypony’s face, few of them vainly wearing masks of confidence. All of them, different from me, color and Cutie mark; only our age were the same.
I hoped, prayed, and begged, to whom? I didn’t know, but I begged so that I wouldn’t draw the short straw. That, my name, Lucky Star, would actually support my luck. It was a vain hope, but it was enough, at least to fill me with courage, false as it was.
The door to the room opened as the Overmare, Sunken Voice, a mare with gray-white mane, pale gray-blue coat and her Cutie mark; an white square device with speaker. An intercom. Wrinkles adorned her face, a sign of her old age. Her horn glowed with palpable pale-blue aura as it held a box right beside her.
The false courage from before diminished rather quickly.
Two bodyguards, suited in armored guard outfit, flanked both of her sides, following slightly behind. Their faces remained stoic, as they ever had, when they’re in their job at least. Uncle Guard Break was always nice to me when he’s off job.
I gulped as the Overmare set down the metallic box. It was the time for our… well, I didn’t know what it was about. But we knew it was going to be bad. We’re going to be ‘forced’ to leave the stable… to ‘scout’ the outside.
But we knew, we’re not stupid. And the Overmare definitely knew. There were rumors after all, theories that was reinforced by the fact that those who goes outside never came… back.
Essentially, one of us we’re going to get kicked out of the Stable, to who-knows-where, and what-knows-what.
It was a death sentence. And unless the outside is a happy place that those who went outside would never wanted to go back again, then it would still be a death sentence.
I glanced at my Cutie mark. A stable. Specifically, MY Stable, my home, where I had grown up from a filly, raised into what I am now, ‘The fake janitor’ of Stable 30. I inwardly chuckled at the nickname, slowly crippling a small fear in my heart. It wasn’t the best job, doing odd-jobs everywhere, helping those who needs fixing, cleaning, sending, picking, and helping those who would pay. I was practically the mare who would do anything, short of doing something that would arrest me, or worse, kicked me out.
It definitely wasn’t the best job, but I did what I can. However small it was. Beside, what’s a working a community if one didn’t do their jobs?
The clearing of the Overmare’s throat quickly tensing my muscles again, cutting me off from the short reprieve, and restored whatever benefits that short reprieve gave.
“Good afternoon, everypony,”
“Good afternoon, Ma’am.”
We all replied in unison. It was always like this. Respect the Overmare, listen to the Overmare, and obey the Overmare.
It wasn’t nice… but it worked. I briefly wondered if other stables were anything like mine.
She sternly gazed at us, watching us under the uncomfortable scrutiny from her blue metallic eyes. “Alright, everypony,” she started with a smile, “today is the day when one of you would go out from this stable to scout the outside.” She nodded to box settled in front of her. “All of your names are inside of this box; I will pick one randomly and read them to you all. The one that would be called please step forward and we’ll outfit you with the scouting equipment.”
I swallowed the lump that was forming under my throat. I prayed again as clenched my eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t be me. A click resounded, signing that the box was unlocked. I peeked under my eyelids, just in right time too, as she took one slip of paper to the front of her face. Her eyes rose slightly, before reading it aloud.
“Lucky Star, please step forward.”
I froze, my eyes wide opened in terror as I stared at the wrinkled face of the Overmare, looking straight at me. I held down the bile that was forming under my throat and let out a whimper instead.
“Please step forward, Lucky Star.” She repeated, steel behind her voice.
I shook my head, eyes clenched shut, “No, please, no… you can’t do this to me, please!” I stepped back, opening my eyes, looking fearfully at the Overmare.
She wasn’t too pleased, “Now, now, Lucky Star. You’re lucky to be chosen, so please come here, or we will use… a more unsavory force.”
“NO! Please- just… “ I clenched eyes more, tears threatening to fell. An idea, a foolish idea, but I was grasping for anything at this point. I opened my eyes, tears unbidden, “There’s a mistake please! There must be a mistake!”
“Guards!” She simply said. The guards both moved to approach me. I was about to run, before something hit the back of my head. Hard. And then everything went a blur as I fell sideways to the cold floor. The last thing I saw was the small twitch on Sunken’s mouth.
I was beginning to hate her.
Then everything went black.
~ ~ ~ ~
I groaned, feeling very, very, uncomfortable. Wincing as the lump behind my head throbbed painfully… I froze. Quickly opened my eyes. I quickly regretted that action.
I was outside!
My chest rose and deflated quickly as I breathed faster and faster. The air was dry, too dry, as if the air itself didn’t have any… air. I gulped as I saw the landscapes. The pale orange ground unbalanced, no more firm and clinically cold floor of the Stable, but only endless, craters, road, and desert on the horizon. No more protective wall, but only sights of ruins, what used to be buildings, and the sky…
I held down the bile that threatened to come out.
I took a deep calming breath. There’s no point in panicking. I calmly, or as calm as I could considering the situation, looked at my new outfit. It was familiar to my normal Stable 30 jumpsuits, but instead of the plain one, there’s now armored padding on the jumpsuits, a piece of metal covering one side of left forearm. There’s a morbid thought of how they changed my clothes.
Shaking those thoughts away, I remembered that the Overmare said that I will be given… equipments. I snuffed a sob; instead a sniffle escaped. I levitated a saddlebag placed on a blanket, briefly looking around, I found that I was currently in the middle of nowhere. Opening the saddle bag, I stared at the inside.
There were few canned foods and drinks, if my math was correct, it would only last for a few days. But my eyes weren’t caught by the food, the drink, nor the drugs. No, it was caught on the L shaped object.
I stared at it, a part of me really wanted to do it, really wanted to end this, so that I could avoid the possible horrors this… this Wasteland would show me. I levitated it, staring at it as I dropped the bag on the ground.
Sweat began to drip as I stared at it blankly, my grip shaking as I aimed the gun to my head. I know, at least, how it works. Open the safety, check the bullets, and pull the trigger. A lesson I got once I saw my uncle relieving his stress in the target practice room, after his fight with his wife. Which, thankfully, ended happily.
I gulped, staring at the barrel of the gun. Grimly, I guessed it was a 10mm pistol, silenced if the tiny barrel stuck on the bigger barrel were any sign. My grip of the gun shook. Just a pull, and then it would be over.
Tears threatened as I dropped the gun, buckling under my knees on the ground, as in the second time of the day. I cried.
I cried at my life just a few hours ago, and the new life I will need to endure. I cried at the friends in the Stable, I cried for my cowardice, and I cried at many things. Finally, the broken dam slowly fixed itself into nothing but cracks. I sniffled, looking at the gun, before opening the magazine; 12 bullets, and tucked it in the holster inside the bag before sticking said holster into the side of my new jumpsuits.
I put the saddlebag on my back as I stared at the empty, broken asphalt called road.
And I walked.
New (kinda) resolve: You’ve, rather forcefully, being kicked out of your normal life in the Stable, but that’s okay! You’ve just gained a new resolve… kinda. You don’t think it would be that quick, did you? At least you’re not a coward, so that’s a plus, oh, and you do 10% damage againts those Stable Dwellers! Because fuck those guys, that’s why! Also +1 END for the effort… I guess.
When do you know when you’re in danger? Was it when you looked at the rotting corpse of a pony whom died from bullets, or maybe when your Pip-buck’s E.F.S. picks up those reds, or maybe, it was the moment you step your first step into the Tartarus I came to acquaintance called The Wasteland.
As it was, despite the looming danger- after vomiting my breakfast, after catching the sight of a dead pony- I stared at my Pip-buck that may as well be my savior, more specifically, I was staring at the map. World map.
A whole lot part of it was still covered with blankness, understandable considering I was only a few steps away from where the kind guards dropped me. Still, it helped, if only a little, knowing that Stable 24 was yards away from whence they dropped me.
Furthering the knowledge, that yes, the Overmare and the guards (or at least her personal guards) knew the about this… well, the best way to call it would be the Wasteland. Thus deepening my hate further against the Overmare.
I switched the Pip-buck to the radio, and to my relief, there’s ponies out there. Alive and striving. At least, surviving in this Shithole wasn’t much of a vain hope. Then I closed the Pip-buck, not really in the mood for anything… except finding a settlement, which I hoped there would be in this wasteland.
I pushed the urge to grief away as I walked alongside the road, focusing mainly on straight ahead, there will be time where I would waste away in my grief in some sort of settlement, I grimly thought.
New resolve my ass, I thought bitterly.
The blatant usage of profanities would’ve been surprising if it wasn’t for the frustrated feeling I got. Most of them coming from the Overmare and the wasteland; I knew it’s not good for me, but I still drink Sparkle Cola even though I knew it was bad for me… at least when I was still in the Stable, that is.
I stopped in my walk as something twitched behind a boulder. I thought about it for a moment before deciding consequences be damned, and walked to the mass of waste, boulder. Further inspection said that ‘something’ was a chain, rusted on its sides but still solid. And under the silence, sans my hoofsteps, I began to hear a muffled sound.
That’s when my eyes widened, there’s someone! And possibly tied as well! It didn’t occur to me that it may have been a trap. I turned to a gallop. Being alone in the wasteland wasn’t nice… it felt rather disconnected, and seeing someone… living, was enough to make me hopeful.
I skidded to a stop and stared at the tied unicorn. The stallion had a red coat, almost crimson-like, and a silver spiky mane. His steel colored eyes gazed at me in surprise. His back was on the boulder, and his legs were bound rather… awkwardly. His right foreleg was tied with a chain of manacles to his left hind leg, while his right hind leg was tied to his left foreleg. On his mouth was a ragged piece of cloth, there was something red on it.
I didn’t think about it before I ripped it out from his mouth with my magic. His steel eyes at me as if I had done something incredibly stupid, and idiotic.
“Well, well, well, we got a live one!” a voice came from behind, and I quickly turned back. Only instead of an empty ground like earlier, there were now four ponies, all of them wearing some kind of tribalistic armor. Vaguely reminiscent of those comic books I usually read when I was in Stable 24.
Two unicorns and two earth ponies, they stared at me hungrily, enough to sent shivers to my spine.
“And she’s clean! We’ll get a good price on her…” a stallion unicorn said, leering at me hungrily,”… and maybe we could play with her first…”
The other three’s eyes took a more sinister glint.
I gulped, not even resisting the shivers I got from the stares.
I just messed up.
I didn’t know what was better. The fact that they decided to ‘play’ with me in their base later, or that I was caught by slavers the first few hours I was out. It was, somehow, ironic in a way. I, who was raised in safety, couldn’t do anything when that safety was gone. Took away from me.
The slavers had taken away my saddlebag and clothes (much to my embarrassment), and by their looks when they opened my saddlebag, they had expected less. They, however, weren’t smart enough to use something to prevent me from using my magic. Of course, there weren’t anything I could do, but it’s the thought that I had something to defend myself that counts.
The chains clinked against each other as we walked, the chains restricting my movement as they bounded me. My neck itched slightly as the rough collar moved alongside one particular long chain that was held by one of the unicorn. Another chain held by another unicorn which connected to my other companion in fate, who walked just beside me, 10 inches apart from touching together.
I glanced at his Cutie mark since I didn’t get a good look at it before. It was two pistols crossed together, the one on the right was mostly silver as the handle was ebony black, while the other one was ebony black while the handle was silver. They looked like my silenced pistol before the slaver took it after looking at it like an early birthday prize, except bigger and bulkier. They looked like they would be intimidating were it real.
Guesses were he’s good at dual wielding guns.
It was one of the things that I was grateful having a stable guard as an uncle. I took him more like a my dad than my… real dad.
The silence was foreboding in a way, and listening the slavers conversation wasn’t really helping my mentality since what they were talking about was about me, and they also took glances at me occasional. It didn’t help that said glances were the all-familiar glances I occasionally got from Bino Cular, a creepy old stallion in the stable that liked to stare at the mares in the stable... more at the youth than the old.
He died of a heart attack one day for some reason.
It was a grim thought, but I was glad he died, something that I was sure, shared along the female in the stable. Mostly the mares of my generation.
Thus I tried my luck with my companion. Looking at him, I did a double-take, and if I was drinking, I would probably do a spit-take. His expression was the epitome of calm, and… I heard humming? I did another double take. He was humming!
A strange tune, but he was humming, dammit!
Logic and situation dictated that he was indeed insane, or mad. But the non-logical part of me, hoped and prayed that he had some sort of plan to escape.
I definitely do not want to be raped, not ever and never would. And being a slave wasn’t on my bucket list, and it would never ever reach that list. Ever.
“H-hi,” I began, my tone quivering from fear, “I’m L-Lucky Star…”
He ignored me.
“So… uhm… what’s your name?”
He’s still humming random tune, unnervingly cheery for the bad situation.
“Hello?” I asked, trying to be patient. After all, you didn’t become everpony’s pet—Fake janitor, without patience, “Can you hear me?”
This time he did look at me, his steel colored eyes stared at me, it was… almost hot. But that’s probably from my desperation of social communication. It may probably a few hours, but it felt like days after leaving the stable.
Still, if I was forced to give my virginity, chances were, I would give it to him. The fact that I didn’t know his name didn’t occur to me.
“Aye, you from a stable, yes?” He asked, glancing at my flank, before nodding, “Name’s Red Archer,” he smirked, and looked forward, “you’re lucky I’m a good guy… one of them actually.”
Good guy? Now that was something interesting… at least more interesting than staying silent and listening how the slavers would… plan how to ‘use’ me and laughing raucously at said plan. I nerved down a blush, and asked a question instead.
“Good guy?” My voice became curious, distracting me from my looming doom, and from my looming loss of virginity.
He nodded, almost proud-looking, “Aye. We kill bad guys, slavers, raiders, demons, ghosts and all that jazz.” He said, callously, like it was his everday’s job.
The way he said ‘kill’ instead of like usually, ‘defeat’ or ‘fight’ unnerved me so.
Though I couldn’t help but to say, “Yet you’re caught by one.” I snarked, it was an unconscious act. And it almost made me feel bad. Almost.
Then he smirked. Oh, how I wanted to punch that smirk.
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”
Thus we walked in silence once again. He humming like he wasn’t chained and was about to be slaved, and watching me get raped. While I half-listened to the slavers, to increase my vocabulary and pondered what was it about the stallion’s word that convinced me that everything was going to be fine.
At least I hoped so.
“Lookit’ here slaves!” one of the earth pony exclaimed after spitting his rusted machete out, his hoof gestured upon the warehouse as we stood on a dusty hill. Before taking the rusted machete into his mouth and walking again.
I glanced up, looking at the warehouse in the near distance. It was at this point that the full force of what was going to happen to me became clear. I was going to lose my virginity by rape, sold and probably ‘used’ more than I would like until I was nothing but a broken doll.
The blood on my face drained, almost leaving a white shade. It was a terrifying thought, and it definitely didn’t help my situation at all. As we neared, the beating of my heart became faster, and I almost let out a whimper.
I pondered if suicide was still a choice or not.
That was, until I heard a loud popping noise, that was followed by a ‘squelch’ from beside me, specifically, the probably-insane stallion. I looked at him and as quick as it goes, my face of white shade became green.
On his white telekinetic grip was a shiv, floating slightly just by the side of his head. And I really, really didn’t want to know where it came from. Definitely not, if my ears weren’t broken, and I really, really didn’t want to think of it; despite our situation.
Oh. And he was grinning too. Ever so slightly, his pace became faster, yet his chains only made a small clinking noise, albeit louder than if he was walking normally. The slavers didn’t even notice him walking closer and closer to one of the unicorn, who stood on the back.
I watched in silent terror as the sharp, yet disgusting shiv found its way to the back of the unicorn’s neck. She didn’t even had the chance to scream or warn her fellow slavers as she went slack to the ground like a puppet cut off of its strings.
Archer didn’t stop after that; instead he went to the closes of the dead unicorn, another unicorn whose magic was holding the chain that connected to my collar, and like the first unicorn, the shiv was stabbed to the back of his neck and he went slack like the first.
Two ponies dead within seconds.
It was terrifying. The stallion killed like it was nothing, like he had done it a thousands of times, and it was at the sound of the chain hitting the ground, making an unfortunately clinking sound against the bundle of chains that the two earth ponies ahead turned back.
Their looks of shock would’ve been funny were it not for the fact that, I, was also wearing a familiar look, but more on the terror than the shock.
First day on the wasteland, I was captured by slavers. First day on the wasteland, I watched two ponies killed in front of me so casually, reminding me of crumpling a piece of paper.
I was seriously considering of changing my name.
That thought didn’t live very long as the two remaining slavers regained their composure, within only moments, and they quickly charged the shiv-wielding stallion.
Arched ducked his head from a horizontal slash to his neck, and quickly countered with a slash to the earth pony’s jugular, before rolling away as the one remaining pony slammed his lead pipe down to the ground, where Red Archer just stood moments ago.
My gaze wasn’t transfixed on Red Archer’s swift act, but on the dying earth pony, choking on his own blood as they exited from the wound like some sort of a rad-roach giving birth to dozens of larvae. His eyes flickered in a battle of will, before it dimmed as his life was taken away, and his body went slack, yet blood still spilt to the ground from his neck-wound.
By the time he was dead, I took a shuddering breath, swallowing the bile that threatened my throat and shook my head from those eyes, before a thumping echoed as something heavy hit the ground, which was the remaining slaver. His neck open the same way the other unicorn did.
I tore my gaze from the body to the stallion. He wasn’t injured at all. He ignored me as he picked up one saddlebag from the corpse, which was probably his, and opened it. Taking out a suit of armor that covered most of his vital spot, and promptly wearing it, ignoring the look I gave as he gave me a show reverse stripping.
Then he took out a duster of some unknown wool, and a fedora head. He wore it as well.
He searched deeper into the bag before he took out two familiar pistols, the one that was on his Cutie mark. I could make out the word ‘Evil’ etched on the side of the ebony pistol in silver and ‘Good’ on the side of the silver gun in black ebony, and put it in his holsters by his sides, and closed the saddlebag shut before draping it over his back.
I shook down a blush and took my saddlebag as he…
“What are you doing?” I asked, voice quivered a bit in half-shock at the scene that was just unfolded.
“Looting,” He answered shortly as his telekinetic grip flipped over a unicorn’s dead corpse and searched for anything useful on her body. “First rule of the wasteland, always search the dead.”
I took in his answer as I took out my armored jumpsuit and donned it quickly as I could before taking the silenced 10mm pistol on the male unicorn’s dead body, after clenching my eyes shut, and holstered it.
My body shook slightly as I picked it up from the corpse.
Opening my eyes, I looked over the dead ponies before blinking. It wasn’t scary or terrifying anymore, sure it was unpleasant… but I honestly… was okay with it.
I blinked again, this time in surprise. This isn’t bad… right? I thought curiously.
I watched as the stallion done his looting and began walking… to the warehouse. I blinked again, before quickly following after him. “What are you doing?!” I asked, probably harsher than I thought. It was probably the fast recurring events that happened after I was out of the Stable.
He glanced at me, before looking back at the road heading to the lone warehouse. “You didn’t think I played to be a helpless slave for nothing, did you?”
I blinked. “But what are you doing?!”
He boop’ed my nose, “Boop,” my eyes crossed, before blinking back. “Calm down, Lucky Star, though you are quite unlucky. My job is to kill bad guys, as of the job-desc of being a good guy.” He said in a matter-of-factly tone.
This time he stopped, turning at me and his right fore-hoof found its way to my shoulder. “Really, your concern is flattering, Lucky Star. It’s a rare treatment out here. But this is my job as a good guy, and thus, I kill bad guys and save innocents.”
I didn’t know what I was doing, nor did I know why it was that I was thinking it. It was probably the wreck I called my psyche that I got just a few hours after leaving the Stable. It was also probably the fact that he’s the first pony that wasn’t dead corpse and a slaver. It was also that he just saved me, and that he’s the only friendly pony out here in the middle of nowhere. But the words that came out of my mouth, flowed clearly, and it was probably the clearest and most desperate words that came out that day.
“Then how do I become a good guy?”
He blinked, first in surprise then for the sake of blinking (probably) and focused his gaze back at me. Then he simply smirked, “Simple. You kill bad guys. And we’re here.”
I blinked in shock as he pointed at the door of the warehouse. That wasn’t there before. It was surprising I didn’t notice it before. I thought we’d stopped? Still, the moment that his words entered my mind… I gulped.
He walked to the door, guns ready before entering it.
Hesitantly, I followed him, pondering if I had made the right choice or not. Considering my past experience, probably not… though maybe this time it will be.
As I entered the warehouse, the first thing I noticed was the disgusting smell that invaded my nose. It reminded me of the smell of a broken toilet, one time when Old Mary, a poet of some sort, hired me to fix it. But unlike before, I had no protection over my nose and the putrid smell itself probably stunk more than that broken toilet. And I would make a gagging sound were it not for Red Archer shutting my mouth with his dirty hoof.
I gulped, blinking back tears, and nodded. Thus, he took his dirty hoof away from my mouth, letting me to take in the inside of the warehouse. There were two levels in it, the first was a large opening of cages… cages that was filled with ponies. Ponies of all kind, starving, crying, and some of them were almost ready to drop down and die.
It was cruel. Though it didn’t end there; there were sounds, unpleasant sounds, on the second level of the building. Screaming, moaning, shouting, and whimpering. It didn’t take too much knowledge what that noise was.
After all, it would have been my fate were it not for Red Archer.
I bit back another whimper of fear, caused by the sounds and the display of dozens and dozens of caged slaves in front of me. But deep within, there were righteous anger. How could these ponies do these?! They’re alive. Not just some toys or pets that could just be taken like candy amongst candies and then be sold to Celestia fucking knows where and who!
And then there are the slavers. Walking in the middle of the cages, watching and patrolling around the caged ponies for those who dare to escape or make excessive noises, about a dozen of them were milling about the first floor, whips, pipes and guns on their telekinetic grip or mouth. And then, there were four of them by the railings of the second floor, rifles ready by their own respective grip.
We’re lucky there’s a conveniently placed pile of wooded boxes, enough for us to hide.
Then Red Archer did something, that was the most asinine and idiotic thing but also worked despite its unorthodox way.
He jumped from cover, guns aimed at the ponies of the railings, “Hello everybody!” He shouted, garnering shocked and surprised looks from the ponies inside, slaves and I included. “You’re fucked.” With that said, a large bang came from the barrels of his pistols as it spat bullets to two slavers on the railings.
Their heads exploded.
I didn’t even want to question how it could.
It probably helped that they just stood still, and then, it was chaos.
Archer vaulted to the side for cover as slavers with really, really bad aim missed everywhere. I just stood there. Fear gripped my heart and movement. It was, technically, my first fight that involves death. It wasn’t until a war cry from behind me that instinct took over and I immediately rolled to the side. Exposing me from my cover.
Luckily, they were so damned focused on Red Archer, who were running around, dodging, jumping and rolling as he shot them with his loud gun. Except for the slaver who just outright almost killed me from behind, and I would were it not for his silly war-cry.
Recovering from my roll, I gulped as the axe-wielding earth-pony slaver looked at me with eyes that promised murder, and pain. Quickly, I took my silenced pistol within my telekinetic grip. Whether or not he cared about the fact that I had the better arsenal, and chances of surviving, he didn't show it as he charged at me like a fat colt with a baseball bat, with his bat aimed to chop my head off of my neck, added with a muffled war-cry.
I squeezed my eyes shut in terror, and just with a little squeeze of my pistol as it aimed at the charging slaver; the bullet from the pistol shot out, luckily meeting its target, that soon followed by a thump. The sound went unnoticed in the midst the gun-fight. But to me, it was like a very loud drum.
I snapped my eyes in horror, right to the slumped to the ground slaver. A bullet-wound just right by the middle of his forehead, his axe on the ground, in the grip of his teeth, as his empty eyes stared at me.
I just killed somepony!
I had once asked my uncle, when I was still just a young curious red-maned filly, how it felt to take a life; to kill a pony, or in fact, other sapient lifeforms.
He had leant his back against a chair, deep in thought, and then he answered with a shrug. “I don’t know, Lucky.” He had said a small smile on his face, “I never take a life before, and I don’t think I would ever…” He paused a little, then continued again, “I would think it would be terrifying, haunting, and probably… well,” he shrugged again; “Probably it would feel really, really, bad.”
And it was terrifying, downrightly so. Probably it was boosted by the gunshots that were drowned by my beating heart. Haunting? Yes, yes it was. Their empty eyes weren’t the most pleasant thing I had seen, but I had thought I would get over it if the wasteland was what I was expecting.
But feeling bad? Guilt, or perhaps, the unreasonable fear that was caused by the pony I just killed? No. There weren’t any of that feeling. Quite the opposite, really, it felt… right. I killed the pony in front of me because he tried to kill me, and because he was bad. He had fed from other miseries for his own sake of living. He had made others suffer, so that he could live a good life.
There wasn’t any shred of guilt.
Terror? Just a little. After all, I just killed a pony and my first time too.
But it felt right. He was evil so he shouldn’t have the right to live. So I killed him.
It was then, I realized, that my head was quite messed up.
Mind-Wreck: Probably it was the instantaneous course of events that happened within few hours after you left your safe haven, or it already was in the beginning. Point is, your mind is a wreck, and there’s a possibility of you being a psychopath. Luckily, you just have the perfect outlet. You do 20% more damage for those you deem as ‘Bad’ guys and 10% more damage against those you deem necessary to kill. Also -1 PER because why the fuck did you space out in the midst of a gunfight you idiot!