>Be me
>The only capable person in the DC wasteland, surrounded by lazy idiots.
>Hear rumors of Union Station, and a train to Nevada, which is supposedly another wasteland with less rain.
>Fucking hate rain, who knew they call it ‘Washington’ for a reason.
>One day amass enough ammo to check it out.
>grab my Minigun, missile launcher, riot shotty and favorite pair of knuckles (the ones with the spikes on em). Also get a bunch of grenades (dey go b0m, see?).
>Stocked on food and stimpacks in case I come across any pussies in need of help along the way that have ammo to trade.
>Strap on my metal armor and head out the door.
>ShittingAmegaton.exe
>God I hope this is the last time I see this stupid fucking town. A bunch of lead poisoned idiots wouldn’t build a town in a bomb crater with the fucking thing still in the middle of it, waiting to explode.
>A few hours later, get lost in the DC ruins.
>Rain drops keep falling on my head, they keep falling.
>Had to waste 264 5mms on those fucking green bulkers so far.
>Another comes out the ally with a minigun like mine.
>”STUPID HOOMAN!”
“You have a fucking weight problem bud!”
>With that I open fire, slowly strafing to the side.
>His shots go too far left.
>His face gets liquefied by 20 of my 5mms.
“I hope you have some fucking ammo on you or I’m fucking your corpse!”
>He does, about 100 rounds (Thank god. I really didn’t want to follow through on that promise).
>Another hour passes, I’m walking in circles and it’s getting darker.
>Decide to venture down some ally.
>Hear noises in one of the buildings.
>Get curious, barge inside.
>Bunch of fucking raiders doing god knows what around a purple camp fire (probably drugs).
>Whirr.mp3
>They all run away screaming.
>That’s new.
>Door slams shut behind me.
>Before I can turn around one of those green fucks launches me into the fire.
>Everything goes pink.
>I’m falling, fast.
>Land on something rough, it gives beneath my weight, breaking my fall somewhat.
>It looks like the top of a bus, all the metal bent under my weight when I landed.
>Look around. This isn’t Washington, sky is still grey as concrete, but the rubble and buildings surrounding me aren’t the same anymore.
“Where the hell am I?”
>”It talks?”
>wtfusay.ogg
>Behind me is a trio of what appear to be some type of dog. They’re all different colors and sizes.
>Look around some more, still can’t find what talked.
>”Are you okay?”
>I freeze.
>”I think we should move” One of the dogs says in a concerned tone.
“Did you just fucking talk?”
>”I’m… sorry?” it replies in a woman’s voice. It looks… scared?
“Man, now I’ve seen it all. What are you?”
>”We’re ponies.” The largest of the group replies to me, in a man’s voice this time. His voice quivers. “look, we’re not looking for any trouble, we’re just trying to get to friendship city-“
>I. Fucking. Break.
>LMAOing at the three of them.
>Once I stop wheezing, I stammer out.
“I must really be on some shit!”
>”Oh… okay?” He meekly responds.
>I never had a trip this bad, but it sure is not my first. I do the usual:
>Check myself, sensation in all my body is fine, my pack is loaded with EXACTLY all the things I packed it with, even the ammo display shows the same amount as before.
>That’s not… normal. If I am fucked up there should be more things amiss, but everything is the same, and moreover, I’m completely lucid.
>Realize this is reality now.
“Friendship city?”
>I ask him, trying not to laugh again.
>”Uh… yes, are you-“ his voice fades.
>He nudges the others behind a pile of rubble, “Hide!”
“From what?”
>He points behind me with his nose.
>Oh good. There are more of them.
>A pack of maybe 5 of them is walking through the street at a distance.
>They see me.
>Jump off the… uh… car? Wagon?
>They’re walking toward me, so I walk toward them.
“What’s up, you’re going to friendship city too?”
>The one at the lead stops, staring at me.
>There’s something shiny in his mouth, guess they like metal objects?
>”Wow… there’s a freaky one!” a smaller, pink member of the pack says to the leader.
>”Just what the fuck are you supposed to be?” the largest member asks me.
“I’m a human, dog.”
>I turn to the one at the lead.
“What’s that thing in your mouth?”
>”hey, what color of blood do you have freak?” the pink one asks me, but before I can respond there’s a gunshot and my left thigh pad is punched against me.
“Did you just fucking shoot me?”
>”Get ‘em!” the biggest one shouts as he runs at me.
“Last fucking mistake asshole!”
>He makes contact, pick him up, use him as a meatshield.
>He gets shot twice and flails in pain while bitching about it.
“You little shits are just as bad the other assholes!”
>Pull out shotgun
>*tink*
“Is that a fucking grenade?”
>As I ask I pivot and slam my meatshield on top of it, laying on it.
>The explosion sends guts flying across the pavement.
>I spray them down with the shotgun, the one previously in the lead gets caught in the face and dies.
>”Let’s get the fuck outta here!” one of them shouts.
>Run up a pile of rubble for a better shot.
>Minigun whirrs.
>A volley of gunfire tears the pink little shit in half, a few more bursts find their mark on the two others, but they manage to escape.
“It’s alright, they’re gone now!”
>The trio crawls out from their cover behind me, they look shaken, but otherwise fine.
“Wipe the dumb looks off your faces; this kind of shit happens every day.”
>The female of the group scowls, sharing a glance with the larger male.
>”Would you mind your tongue?” she glares at me.
>The smallest of their group is hiding underneath her. That’s when it hits me, they’re a family.
“Sorry ma’am.”
>She looks surprised, sharing another glace with her husband, but her expression softens a bit.
>”Anyway,” The father begins, “We’d best be on our way, there are things far worse than raiders out here at night.”
“This friendship city, what’s the deal with it? Has it got greener grass or something?”
>He chuckles, “It’s about the only place in Manehatten you can raise a family without being threatened constantly by wildlife and… wild-life.”
>OH. MY. DOG.
>I’m in Manhattan!
>Manhattan is overrun by sapient pseudo-equines!
>This is reality.
>Try to stay composed.
>[SUCCESS]
“So, I suppose you need help getting there, right?”
>They share startled glances, “We have nothing to pay you with.”
“That’s fine. I just wanna get there, buy a drink, a map, and get my bearings. I have caps, I just need somewhere to spend them.”
>”Well… give us a moment?”
“I understand.”
>The little one eyes me up and down, I crouch to meet their gaze.
>”You’re so big…” it says in a little boys voice.
“Yeup, I’m pretty great”
>The helmet hides my smile, but the kid smiles back despite it.
>”Are you some kind of monster?”
>wut.png
“More like an alien I suppose.”
>Truth is they’re the aliens, Manhattan is our city!
>”Are you an evil alien?”
“Nah…”
>What does ‘evil’ even mean? There’s strong, and there’s weak, the strong prey on the weak until they’re gone and then the strong move to something else.
>”Alright,” They finish their discussion, “you can come with us, but we need to hurry!”
“Let’s get going then!”
>We walk for about an hour, traversing rubble, 200yr old traffic jams, and alleyways filled with ash and broken glass.
>All the while this kid keeps talking to me.
>”So where are you from?”
“Washington, I don’t think it’s too far from here, if you follow the shore south you could get there.”
>The father chuckles, “You mean Hoofington? That’s far to the west of here, pal!”
>Hoofing. Ton.
>Hoofing.
>This isn’t funny anymore, make it stop.
>”Washington, HAH! Because it rains there all the time?” He continues, “Yeah the weather wasn’t the worse part of it though, we had a lot of reasons to move away from there.”
>Washington because it rains or Hoofington because horses.
>I don’t know which pun is worse but I miss not having to choose.
>We come to the end of the alleyway and I wave at everyone to stop.
“There could be snipers; I’m not letting them catch us easy.”
>”We don’t have time for this…” the mother pleads.
“If you run out there you won’t have any more time in general.”
>They reluctantly hold their position.
>I climb onto a first floor window and make my way inside, the building is crumbling, but it should hold despite my weight.
>Walk through some halls, finally find a room with a window to peek from.
“Should’ve brought some fucking binoculars.”
>I murmur under my breath.
>”Like these?”
>I bring my hands up to guard as I turn to the source of the speech.
“Kid, how did you get in here?”
>”Dad boosted me so I can see what you’re doing!” his grin is wide.
>There’s a pair of binoculars around his neck.
“Gimme that for a minute.”
>I try to remember how Jericho taught to hide the glint. “Just cup your fingers around the lens kid, that way they won’t get a laser beam notifying them ahead of time.”
>I chuckle at the good memory as I do like he said to.
“Now go back to mom and dad kid, I’ll be with you in a bit.”
>The kid nods, run- err… trotting back to his parents.
>I glance around the roofs for a bit, not seeing much.
>Suddenly I see a tarp. It’s spread as to block off the rain.
>At the far end of the street, all is clear for now.
>Decide to investigate the building.
>Jog downstairs, clearing rooms as I go.
>All clear.
>Make my way to the back door and barge through it.
>The mother gasps as the door falls off its frame.
>”You’re gonna give us a heart attack!”
>Pfft, aren’t you horses or something?
“Sorry, it was a bit stuck.”
>They look doubtful but say nothing.
“I need to check the building, see it?”
>I show them where I spotted the tarp.
“I need you to stick as close to that wall as possible and don’t make any noise as you move to the end of the street. Then wait for me there, don’t go around the bend without me.”
>They nod, and we start to move.
>I stay way ahead of them, checking for mines and traps, making sure I don’t leave them any surprises.
>As I come to the entrance of the building I debate with myself whether to enter it or just pass by it.
>There could be raiders, but really if they’re not bothering us then who gives a shit?
>There could be survivors, or victims, someone to save. But then we’d have more liabilities.
>Forget it.
>I keep moving, maintaining line of sight with the roof at all times in case one of these shits decides to drop a grenade because ‘wow explosions’.
>*Chuck*
>fucc.
>The father locks eyes with me, he doesn’t quite get why I stopped suddenly.
“Mines”
>He hears my whisper, and slowly makes his way to me.
>”Hold on, I can disarm it”
“No! That’s exactly what they want you to try doing.”
>I wave the rest of them on.
“Get to the end of the street and wait for me.”
>”But how are y-“
“JUST GO!”
“Actually wait, take my pack with you.”
>I strap the missile launcher and minigun to his saddle pack.
>”Heavy…” he groans.
“You wanna impress your girl, or moan like a bitch?”
>I can’t believe I’m quoting Jonas now.
>He glances back at her, then nods at me and starts moving, careful to check where he steps.
>They make it to the bend, but not without pointing out the locations of 3 more mines to look out for.
>Fuckingfinally.png
>Brace myself for the inevitable.
>Foot slips off.
>Nothing happens, but I don’t stick around to find out if it’s really a dud or just retarded.
>Jog over to the rest of them.  Enabled by the lighter weight I’m carrying.
>”Did you disarm it?” the kid asks in a hushed voice.
“No, it was a dud. Mines tend to explode when you step on them, but sometimes they’re old and lame and the detonator doesn’t go off, or the firing mechanism gets jammed. You think you’re good, so you step off it, but then it goes off because the igniter just needed to be jerked around a bit. They usually work though; I just got lucky for once today.”
>”We’re glad you’re still with us.” The mother says with a little smile.
>She actually sounds… relieved?
>I take the weapons back from the dad.
>”Ouhfffh…” Now THAT’S relief!
“Alright, let’s have a look.”
>Around the bend is a narrow street, with low buildings; basically more of the same.
“Alright, same as before, watch for traps and mines. And if you see piles of dirt, don’t step on them; we won’t get lucky twice.”
>We traverse this street same as the last, except this time without a hitch.
>My view alternates from the rooftops and windows to the path in front of me.
>Finally we reach the end of that gauntlet.
>”Well that wasn’t so bad.” says the dad.
“Sure, how much more have we got?”
>”Actually, we’re just a couple blocks away!”
>”And right on time, it’s getting dark.”
>We walk along another street in silence.
>”It’s left at the next turn, and we’re there!” the mother says, stifling relief and excitement.
>It’s basically dark at this point, there’s barely enough light to see where we’re walking.
>The sheer amount of broken glass in the street makes every step we take sound thunderous. This is only helped by the surrounding absence of noise, with only the occasional distant explosion or gunshots reminding us that there are others here too.
>Things brighten a bit as we make the turn.
>The twilight seeps through the horizon, lighting our way ever so slightly.
>In the distance is a massive statue of one of these things, lit by strands of bulbs hanging from it.
>It takes me a moment, but suddenly it clicks. 
“That’s… the statue…”
>”Yes! The statue of friendship, we’re nearly there!” the mother proclaims in hushed excitement.
>I… I… I… KNEEL.
>My legs give out, my back gives out, my lungs give out and my head spins. I fall to my knees.
“This is not what I was shown in class! I may have skipped a few days of school and failed most of my exams, but THAT! That I remember. This is supposed to be a woman!”
>I gasp.
“WHY is it a HORSE?!”
>My voice cracks.
“What do you mean FRIENDSHIP? THAT’S A GIFT FOR LIBERATING FRANCE!”
>I pound the ground with my fist.
“It’s SUPPOSED to be called the statue of LIBERTY!”
“THE RAYS, THE CROWN, THE BOOK, THE FUCKING TORCH!”
“HOW DOES ANY OF THIS CORRELATE TO FRIENDSHIP?”
“That’s supposed to be…”
>Everything goes dark for a moment.
>My body feels weightless.
>All the confusion, the shock, the pain.
>It all goes away, as I drift into the void.
>Come to.
>Something is growling at me from the darkness.
>The family of ponies is huddled next to me, all holding each other tightly and locking eyes with something in front of us.
>It looks massive, two large leathery wings and a scorpion stinger the size of an albino radscorpion’s are visible in the dark silhouette.
>”Manticore. What do we do?” the mother is talking to the husband.
>It growls as it slowly begins circling us.
>My body is sluggish, but I rise.
>The creature still keeps its distance, occasionally growling.
>I equip my minigun and bear it at the creature.
>The roar of the gun drowns out the creature’s roars of agony.
>All the bullets hit center mass, shredding the right wing and punching through to the stomach.
>Another one lands behind us.
>Again, not approaching, just growling.
>Again, the bullets drown out its agony.
>This time its wing is out of the way, the bullets rip through the abdomen and spill its internals on the pavement. 
“Any more?”
>Silence.
>Take the opportunity to reload.
>I take a better look at the creatures lying in slowly spreading pools of their own blood.
>They look like… what did Brotch call them?
>”They went extinct after the bombs fell…” That I could remember but what were they called?
>”Those are some nasty cats…” the voice of a woman came from somewhere ahead of us.
“Cats, right! I thought they were extinct.”
>After deathclaws it’s hard to be surprised anymore.
>I turn towards the voice as I speak, pointing the gun in a safe direction, but ready to retaliate.
>”Yeah, you really shredded the little shits. They’re usually not so nice as to land next to you instead of on top of you.”
>It’s a pony in combat armor.
>”Have you all got caps for the fare?” she asks us nonchalantly.
>The dad nods, “been waiting months for this moment, we’re hoping to move in.”
>”I’m not one to grant or deny entry; I just run security for the ferry.”
>We begin walking towards the ferry.
>The abomination of a statue is taunting me from its stand among the waves.
>”Hey umm… how did you get them to stay back like that? Normally manticores tear apart anything they get close to.” The guard asks us.
>”Another one of today’s miracles brought to us by our extraordinary new friend!” The dad answers her.
“Really, I can’t take any credit for that, I wasn’t even conscious until after it landed; honestly I’m surprised myself.”
>”Well you sure ran through em’ real fast! Are you looking for a job?” she asks.
>No, I want to go home, not settle down.
>I’m about to say that, but then I remember that conversation I had with Paul.
>”Honestly I hate Butch; I just don’t wanna get picked on. Besides, there’s other benefits to hanging out with them: Butch and Wally have some fighting techniques they share, we work out together, and Butch can always get us booze whenever we want it. When you’re surrounded by people you don’t like, but they like you, you should be nice to them and try to fit in. That way you can benefit from what they have to offer, even if it hurts sometimes to pretend you’re one of them.”
“I need to think about it.”
>”Well, whenever you make up your mind, tell me. We could use a big tough gun like yourself on the ferry. There’s caps in it, and we’ll even give you the spare cabin!”
>I’ve got 12kg of caps in my pack. That’s several thousand, so caps are the last thing I need. A place to sleep though, that’s another thing.
“How common are these cats anyway?”
>”You mean you don’t know? Manticores are everywhere here… almost. Where’re you from?”
“Washington.”
>”HA! Cause of the rain?”
>What, is everyone from Hoofington?
“How do you know?”
>”Heard about it. We got an influx of ponies moving in from there; apparently it’s becoming pretty inhospitable.”
>What could they mean? This city may not be overrun by super mutants like D.C or slavers like Pittsburgh but it’s not the safest place out there either.
“If you’re tired of the city, why not take to the suburbs; Why another city?”
>The armored one laughs a bit. “What suburbs? Have you even seen the outskirts? It’s a lot safer between the buildings, where there’s cover and ample protection from the elements. Out there you’re just waiting for sickness or starvation to finish you off, if the radiation or wildlife doesn’t do it first.”
>I think back to the few times I freed slaves just for them to tell me ‘Yeah, we’re just gonna die anyway :)’ and wonder if this was their mindset.
“Hunt your own food, make your own shelter, we’re humans, we’re built for tha-“
>Oh right, they’re not human at all.
>They all look at me for a moment; an awkward silence permeates the air between us as we walk.
“Alright, I guess you might have a point, but us humans could probably do just fine out there.”
>She chuckles a bit. “What’s a… what did you call yourself?”
“Human.”
>”How do you pronounce that?”
>Hilarious. I know what a ‘pony’ is (which they don’t resemble almost at all), but somehow they’ve never heard the word ‘Human’.
“Are we, like… not a thing to you? How in the world do you exist with any form of mental capacity and not know what a human is? We’re the dominant species on the planet! …Or at least we were.”
>”Nope, sorry. Closest thing I’ve see to you are those old diamond dog posters from two centuries ago.”
“Diamond dogs? Sounds like a raider gang with a bestiality fetish.”
>The guard laughs, but the parents of the kid cringe; the kid just looks confused somehow.
>”What’s funny?”
>”Be quiet kid, grownups are talking.” The guard responds.
>We get to the ferry (FINALLY, FUCK).
>”Alright boss, last ones for the day!” the guard hollers at another pony already aboard the ferry.
>It’s tall enough to reach up the wall we’re standing on, seems to have an underbelly too. Nothing like the ferries I’ve seen.
>There are a few more guards; all dressed in a combat armor outfits like the first.
“Are you guys private security or do you actually associate with… uh…”
>”We’re the friendship city security detachment.” A pony with a dude’s voice answers me.
>”What are you?”
“Yes. How much is the toll?”
>”30 caps.” He states, “But I’m not letting you through until you tell me what you are and why you’d wanna enter the city.”
>”Oh lay off him Longshot, he’s no trouble.” To my surprise, the guard comes through for me.
>Longshot.
>What does she mean?
>”Yeah, I don’t know what we’d do without him today if he hadn’t shown up; he helped us plenty!” the dad adds.
>”You vouch for this guy?”
“Longshot?”
>”You got a problem with my name?”
“Wait, that’s your name?”
>Before he can reply another one steps down from what I take to be the control cabin.
>”All aboard! We’re setting out ASAP; there’s no way I’m getting caught out here in the dark again.”
>He approaches us.
>”30 caps is the price for adults, the kid rides free.”
>HOLY DEATHCLAW FUCKING A YAO GUAI! HE HAS A BEARD!
>Looks at me.
>”And just what the hay are you supposed to be?”
>I start laughing.
“Y- you little horses man, you don’t cease to amaze.”
>”What’s got you so giddy?”
>HAH! GIDDY!
“You tell me, man!”
>His left brow rises somewhat.
>I try to control my laughter.
>The family I helped has paid their fare and is already on the deck.
>I reach for my pack and count out the caps.
>Can’t see shit, fuck it.
>Grab a bunch of caps and hand them to him.
>”Now hold on, I don’t think you have any business crossing the water. Even if I take you there they might not let you in, and there’s no way I’m taking you back to mainland before dawn’s break!”
“It’s fine, a night in the rain never hurt me any.”
>”We’ll vouch for him!” the mother says, there’s a somber tone in her voice.
>”Well… alright, let’s go fellas.”
>Something on his head starts glowing.
“Dude you got-“
>The caps.
>They fly.
>THE CAPS FUCKING FLY OFF MY HANDS!
“DUDE WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!”
>”What?!” He recoils a bit.
”WHY ARE THE CAPS FLOATING? WHAT IS THAT THING ON YOUR HEAD?”
>I feel something bear down on me.
>It’s hooves! Tiny hooves of the guard!
>”Calm down, you’re acting like you’ve never seen a unicorn before!”
>SEEN
>A UNICORN
>ACTING
“What the fuck do you mean acting? You think we have unicorns where I’m from? The closest you get to that in Washington is a mole rat with a twig on its head!”
>And even that’s a scarcity.
>I calm down, staring at the caps floating in a reddish, glowing mirage.
>”Are you done?” the guard lets her hooves slide off my shoulders.
“Yeah, sure.”
>I’m going to feint again.
>”Well get aboard, I’ll count out your caps later.”
>With that the unicorn makes his way to the helm, the caps flying alongside him.
>Walk aboard the ferry.
>Find a comfy wall.
>Collapse.
>The ferry shakes as it dislodges from whatever was anchoring it, the engine starts with a muffled roar, and we begin moving toward the statue.
“So… friendship city is inside the statue right?”
>”Yeah, and?” the other guy… Longshot answers as if I just told him that bullets hurt.
“No, that was a genuine question. I didn’t know the thing is hollow.”
>He looks at me like I’m retarded.
>”So… where’d you get those guns?” the guard from before asks me.
>Under the lights of the ferry, her figure is more apparent.
>She’s a slim, pink pony. Her armor appears to be made of composites, maybe ceramics. She has a rifle at her side.
>A rifle.
“How do you use that gun with no hands?”
>It doesn’t even have a grip!
>”Hey! I asked first, I’ll only tell you if you answer me.”
“Fine, I looted them off the corpses of my enemies.”
>She seems a bit dumbfounded.
>”You… really mean that, don’t you?”
>Unload the pack.
“This minigun I got from a super mutant who thought grenades don’t hurt.”
>I pat the top of it.
“This baby fits 250 bullets in a box and spews them out faster than you can-“
>”Now hold on, what’s a super mutant?” Longshot cuts me off.
“They look just like me, but bigger, and green.”
>He blinks.
“You’ve never seen one, have you?”
>”Of course I haven’t! Where did you even come from?”
>My head spins as everything sinks in.
“I give up, why don’t you just give me some space so I can catch my breath?”
>He shoots a glance at the pink one, then makes a ‘hmp’ as he turns away and starts walking.
>”So… this Washington… it’s a real place?”
 “I don’t know what real even means anymore. I just saw a fucking unicorn levitate stuff, before that I saw cats with wings and scorpion stingers-“
>”Manticores, dude. I called them cats as a joke.”
“Yeah well we don’t have those either!”
>She looks at me; her expression is hard to read though.
>Something between ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘don’t make me shoot you’.
>Behind her the trio are hugging, shedding tears and laughing in relief. I point at the dad.
“Could you ask that guy over there to join us for a moment?”
>”What do you want with him?”
“I just wanna ask him a question, please?”
>She nods, goes, and comes back with him.
>”We’ll do what we can to make sure they let you in friend, least we ca-“
“I… don’t mind really. Look, back there, when I first got here. What happened? Can you remember how we first met?”
>He looks put on the spot.
>”Uh… um… er…”
“I need you to tell me, what happened when you first saw me.”
>He takes a deep breath. “Well… there was this huge pink plume of flame out of nowhere, just… right in the middle of the street and high above the ground. Then, you fell out of it, onto a wagon, and it disappeared. Honestly I just thought it was some kind of spell. Did y-“
“Yeah that sounds about right. Did you ever see that happen before?”
>”Well… no. I saw unicorns teleport in the past but there usually aren’t any flames involved. It’s more like a light sphere from which the pony pops out.”
>Wow, they can teleport too.
“Alright, thanks.”
>”Wait, this actually happened?”
>Dig through my pack, need cola.
>”I swear up and down, that is the honest truth.”
>The pink pony looks incredulous.
>I finally find my cola.
>”So you can use magic too?”
“Apparently, but I didn’t do anything, I just fell into a fire and got spit out here.”
>Twist the top.
>*Fsssk*
>”What’s that?” she asks, tilting her head a bit; just like Dogmeat used to do.
“You can’t have any, it’ll probably make you puke.”
>She eyes the bottle as I take a swig.
>”Bleh, what’s that black stuff you’re drinking? Are poisoning yourself?”
“It’s Nuka-Cola™.”
>Somehow it’s even still cold.
>My mind clears a bit as the familiar taste comforts me.
“Man, what a fucked up day…”
>”Cola? Like sparkle cola?” she asks.
>”You mind if I…”
“Yeah, that’s all I needed; thanks.”
>The dad goes back to his family.
“What’s sparkle cola?”
>”You never had sparkle cola?”
“Why, in god’s name, are you surprised?”
>She blinks.
>”God?”
“GOD!”
>It’s hard to breathe.
>”Will you freak out again if I take off my helmet?”
“Unless you got a ticking bomb under it, no. Actually, I think I’ll take off mine as well.”
>I reach for the release lever on my helmet.
>It comes off.
>Place it against my chest and hug it as I take a longer swig from the bottle.
>As hers comes off I can see she has a horn.
“2 unicorns, 1 day. That’s certainly a first.”
>My head is spinning again.
>”Get used to it, we’re more common than you think.” She says with a smile.
“Yeah, everything here is something other than what I think. None of this even makes any fucking sense…”
>”You have like… no coat.”
>I sigh.
>”I still don’t understand, you’re seriously telling me you’ve never seen a pony, or a manticore, or even the statue? How long have you been here?”
“Maybe four hours… I don’t know.”
>Wait, I have a pip-boy!
>Pull it up.
>DATA
>Time says 19:42
>Local map shows the path we traversed, it’s a few kilometers.
>World map
>PIP Err code: 5 OUT OF RANGE.
“That’s odd; I thought this thing was preloaded with every map of the US.”
>”The U-S?”
“How do you call this country we’re in?”
>”Well, formerly Equestria.”
“Equestria, not America?”
>”What’s a merica?”
“America, the united states of America? Ring any bells at all?.”
>”Oh so that’s one word?”
>Why is everyone here so fucking stupid?
“Yeah, it is.”
>”Well… yeah, no clue.”
>She sits down, her horn glows, and she brings up a yellow plastic bottle. I can’t read the label on it.
>The way it just floats there makes me sick. This shouldn’t be possible.
>Then she magically twists the cap off and I cringe at the plastic *crack* it makes.
>”This is what we call cola. Pure carroty goodness.” Her toothy grin shrinks as she brings the bottle to her lips.
“Carrots don’t beat sugar.”
>”But carrots and sugar sure do!” 
>I take another swig, the bottle is half empty.
>”So what’s that thing, like a terminal or something?”
“It’s a pip-boy, I use it for navigation and listening to the radio mostly.”
>”Ooh! Can you get DJ pon3’s station on there?”
>The wat?
“The what?”
>”DJ pon3, everyone knows him, c’mon!”
“Ough.”
>Bring up the radio tab.
>All stations out of range, no new stations detected, scan in progress.
“Either you’re fucking with me, or this thing hasn’t picked it up yet. Hell, maybe it’s a completely different frequency than what we use.”
>”I’m not fucking with you; it’s like the only station worth a damn. Last week they got some new music, I hope they’re still playing it at the bar when we get back.”
>She takes another sip, “What stations do you have?”
“None right now.”
>”And usually?”
“Just look at the list.”
>She places a hoof on my shoulder and brings her head close to mine.
>Too close, enough that I can smell the ‘cola’ on her breath.
>”Are those supposed to be letters?”
“Those are letters! Are you drunk?”
>Lower my voice.
“That’s GNR, hosted by some shill from a crumbling hub in the ruins.”
>I point at the next item.
“That’s the enclave station, they only play dogshit and baseball propaganda.”
>”The enclave has a radio station?”
>She knows the enclave of all things?!
“How do you know what the enclave is?”
>”They’re the pegasi!” she responds as if that’s obvious to everyone.
“The who?”
>”Pegasi? The ponies with wings that controlled the weather before the war, remember?”
>remember?
“No, I don’t remember because I’ve only been here for 4 hours and I thought ‘unicorn’ was as weird as it gets.”
>”Oh, right. Well you got pissed when I didn’t know what America was so we’re even!” she shakes me a bit.
>I return my gaze to the list.
“The rest are lopping distress calls or number stations from during or before the war.”
>”All of them?”
>Look at the bottom.
>Zeta beacon signal.
“Most of them.”
>We’re getting really close to the statue.
>”Almost there now, I sure hope they let you in; but if not you can just come back to the ferry, the spare cabin is still available.” She finally gives me some space.
>The ferry approaches a sort of dock at the base of the statue, then the engine shuts off and we drift into position.
>There’s a subtle jerk and the thing finally stops.
>I look up at the massive pony.
>Parts of its outer shell are missing, revealing its metal skeleton.
>It has a book in one foreleg, a torch in the other, and is rearing up to stand on both hind legs.
>god knows how a pony is meant to hold something in their hoof, but if magic is a thing here…
>”We’re finally here!” the mother cries with joy.
>Yay.ogg
>”You coming?” the dad prompts me.
>I finish my bottle of nuka and crawl to my feet.
>”Hold on now!” the conductor hollers at me.
“What is it?”
>”Well just that you gave me 57 caps! Now, I usually don’t ask because, really, who cares, but these…”
>He levitates a few caps towards me.
>”I recognize the brown ones as beer caps, and these plastic ones are probably water or juice, but I’ve never seen these here red ones before!”
>Show him the bottle and its cap.
>”They’re Nuka-Cola™ caps.”
>”Huh… ain’t seen that around here before either.”
“That’s because you drink carrot juice instead.”
>He chuckles, “Well anyway here’s your change.”
>The majority of the change is in red nuka caps.
>I turn to leave, everyone else practically did already.
>There’s a lit walkway to a marble staircase leading up to the statue.
>I struggle to follow everyone else and make my way up the stairs.
>My body feels like it weighs a ton, it’s hard to breathe, and I can’t even put my helmet back on because I feel like I’m about to vomit.
>Even in Pittsburgh when I had to crawl through radioactive muck and punch mutants to death I didn’t feel this bad.
>Approach the base of the statue.
>Entrance is from the pedestal itself.
>There’s a guard on each side of the doorway.
>”Alright, who’ve you brought us tonight guys?” one of them asks in a deep masculine tone.
>”My name’s Cuisine, these are my wife and son; we’re hoping to move into the city, start a business perhaps.” The dad begins.
>Most of the ferry guards walk past us, going inside. Only the pink one remains.
>”Have you got any weapons?”
>”No sir.”
>”Well then you lot can head inside. You’ll want to speak with a member of the council for officially moving in, you need their approval. You can get directions at the information desk, just follow the signs.”
>”Don’t worry, they’ll approve.” The pink unicorn comforts them.
>”Before we do, could you admit our friend as well?”
>He gestures to me with his head.
>”Move along please, your friend will meet you up ahead.”
>They go inside.
>”Now, what the hell are you?”
>This again.
“I’m-“
>”He’s their bodyguard, and a potential asset to the security team!” The pink pony cuts me off.
>”Uhuh… you having a good night Berry?”
>The other guard chuckles.
>”This is serious you chucklefucks, he tore to shreds two manticores that were too scared to even go near him!”
>They both recoil a bit.
>Compose myself.
“How do I prove I’m not a threat?”
>”Hold on, is that true?”
“I shot them both with this minigun here.”
>I lift the weapon, pointing it in a safe direction.
>He eyes me up and down.
>”Is that a missile launcher on your back?”
“Yes.”
>”This motherfucker is packing a goddess damned arsenal!” the other guard chimes.
>Goddess damned.
>Goddess.
>How nice.
>”Well you can start by unloading and depositing your weapons at the security station. We’re usually a lot more lax about guns, but that’s a warranted exception.”
>They don’t know the second amendment, they don’t give a shit!
“Deposit them? Do I get them back?”
>”Yeah, you can pick them up from the desk later, but you can’t carry them inside.”
>NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Fine by me.”
>Lie
>”Well… we’ll be watching you extra closely. Don’t try anything stupid.”
>Oh boy, the wimps in uniform are gonna crack bullets at my ass if I breathe the wrong air.
>I’m terrified (not really).
>”C’mon, I’ll show you to the security station, then we can get a drink at the bar!” she trots inside. 
>She wants to get a drink with me now?
>She’s in charge of an entire detachment, what could she need from me?
>As we head in, I feel a rush of warm air, and the smell of dust and rust is made noticeable.
>At one end, to the left of us, are the elevators, at another there’s what I assume are the restrooms.
>In the center sits the information desk, a large round wooden structure located right in the middle of the chamber.
>All around are empty stands and souvenir shops, which are presumably used by the ponies when the market is open.
>Basically a mall.
>At least the interior isn’t a direct rip-off.
>Follow the pone to one of the shops.
>We pass another group of guards headed outside.
>”Hey berry! How’s the water today?” a black coated female teases.
>”Fuck you, that stopped being funny last month!”
>She cracks up as she passes.
>Berry pouts.
>That nuka fizz is coming back up.
>Approach a doorway.
>There’s a sign above it that says something, but I can’t read it.
>All the letters are hoof shaped, or have lines that are way too jagged.
>Burp
“Is this it?”
>”Yeup, quartermaster’s right here!”
>She trots inside with me in tow.
>”Hi Powder!”
>A bored looking red pony is sitting at a desk, reading something. Behind her is an array of lockers and cabinets, and behind that, a round, heavy metal door.
>Kind of like a vault door.
>She looks at Berry, “What is it now? Longshot being an ass again? I thought I told …”
>She looks up at me.
“I’d like to make a deposit ma’am.”
>”What the fuck is that thing?” she asks Berry, still sounding bored.
>”Hey! Be nice, he’s a friend.”
>She looks back to me and laughs voicelessly.
>”This isn’t the bank anymore. We don’t deal with money.”
>Not funny.
>Smile anyway.
“I was told to leave my weapons with you; I’m not allowed to carry them inside.”
>Place the minigun on her desk.
>”Damn! Did you raid a Steel Ranger bunker or something?”
“No.”
>Equip missile launcher.
>”How did you get all this ordinance then?”
>Open the breach
“I just found it.”
>Grip the missile with my fingertips and pull it out.
>”Where?”
>Place the missile on the desk.
“Places…”
>Flick the launcher closed
>Hollow *thwoph*
>It hurts.
>”Oooh, mysterious. Stop cluttering my desk, I’m not moving those for you.”
“Right on, where should I put them?”
>”Gimmie a sec.”
>She ducks her head behind the desk.
>Opens a drawer and pulls something out with her mouth. It’s a metal hoop with some keys in it.
>Spits it out on the desk and flicks through keys with her hooves.
>She picks it up again by one of the keys and moves to the back of the room.
>”C’mon, bring them over here.” She says through the hoop in her mouth.
>Lift the missile and gun and follow.
>She pushes the key into a panel by the massive door.
>*BEEP*
>There’s a series of mechanical sounds as the door unlocks, then a groan from the hinges as it opens.
>Behind it is a large room with walls made of silver boxes.
>”Right in…” she drags the word ‘in’ for a bit.
>”Here!”
>Walks up to a box, seemingly at random, and pulls it open.
>What slides out looks like one of the morgue drawers we had in the vault.
>”Unit 179, remember that so we don’t have to look for it, kay?”
“Sure…”
>”Alright, so all the heavy weapons and explosives you’re carrying have to go in there. I’ll lock it up, and nopony will mess with ‘em.”
“No what?”
>”Excuse me?”
“You said nopony?”
>”Yeah…?” she looks confused.
>Every second I slip further into insanity.
>”What about it?”
“Forget it.”
>Approach the empty drawer. There’s enough room for both the minigun and missile launcher, although it’s a bit tight.
>Place the minigun down first and unload it.
>I pat the barrels, gently caressing them with my thumb.
>Daddy’s coming back soon…
>The mechanism clicks loudly a couple of times as they spin.
“This baby needs a change of oil…”
>They both look at me.
“I’m talking about the gun. Is there anywhere I can get motor or gun oil?”
>”Yeup, second floor. Look for Tinker’s workshop, he’ll set you up.” The unicorn replies.
>Place the missiles I was carrying down by the gun.
>Finally put down the launcher itself and shotgun next to it.
>”Wait, you can keep that! It’s the heavy ordinance we don’t allow.”
“Oh, cool!”
>”Do you have any grenades?”
>Oh, shit.
“Yeah I’ll add them to the pile.”
>6 Frag grenades
>4 Frag mines
>2 Pulse grenades
>A Plasma grenade I pulled out of a trashcan.
“I think that’s it.”
>”All right then!” she walks up and kicks the drawer with a foreleg.
>It slams with a loud thump.
>*chuck*
>”They lock themselves, nifty huh?”
>I strap the shotgun to my chest, unload the mag and clear it.
“So we’re good now?”
>”Yup! Let’s go to the bar!”
>We make our way out of the vault.
>The red one pushes some buttons and pulls the keys out of the panel.
>There’s a loud groan and some metallic sounds as my weapons are sealed away behind a several ton weighing hunk of steel.
>We step back out into the main chamber, making toward the elevators.
>”Ever had whiskey before?”
>Literallyhowold.jpg
“There’s whiskey here?”
>”Hey, you know what that is!”
“It’s alcohol.”
>”Yeah! We got a shipment last week.” She looks at me with one side of her face as she walks in front of me.
>It occurs to me, these little shits have eyes big enough to see behind their backs.
“A shipment of whiskey?”
>”Yeah…”
“How did they round up enough whiskey for an entire shipment of only that?”
>”Well… I don’t know. But it’s some good stuff!”
>We reach the elevator and she kicks the button with her hoof.
>*DING*
>We step into one, the panel is numbered with roman numerals (sort of).
>she presses the button for the first floor.
“Wait, I wanted to check out the price of oil!”
>”You can do that tomorrow; he’s probably already closing shop!”
>The doors close, and we start moving.
>I sigh.
>”Alright, you wanna check out his shop and then go to the bar?”
“Why don’t you run along and let me catch up to you?”
>”Because…”
“Go on?”
>She looks at the ground.
>”…I don’t wanna hurt your feelings…”
>my WHAT?
“What kind of fucking sissy do you take me for?”
>Oh wait.
“I mean… you can tell me, it’s alright.”
>”I just don’t want ponies here to make you feel bad. They say some mean things sometimes…” She digs at the floor of the elevator as she speaks.
“Don’t worry, humans treat each other like shit all the time for shits and giggles. I’ve bought stuff from people who called me worse things than ‘freak’ or whatever else you guys come up with…”
>The elevator stops and the doors open. Beyond the frame is an area with more doorways on either wall.
>The group of guards from the ferry is funneling into one of them.
>”I better go join my guys… you sure you’ll be okay?”
>I may have never met my mother, but this is the behavior I imagine.
“Yes mom.”
>She laughs, “Come join us at the table when you’re done!”
>I nod.
>Press the button with the two parallel lines.
>Doors close.
“As if…”
>I just need to find the fucking hotel so I can sleep.
>The elevator stops, doors open, and I walk out.
>It’s a balcony type platform with safety railings; the drop to the floor below looks reasonably safe.
>See one of the guards from before walking into a shop.
>There are guns in the vitrine.
>Follow him inside.
>As I approach the vitrine I notice none of the guns have grips.
>Or triggers.
>Or fire selectors.
>”Now how in Equestria did ya manage that?” I hear an older male’s voice.
>Step inside.
>There were many sights in the wasteland that made me stop just to look at them, from the ruins of Pittsburgh under the blood red sky, to Dogmeat tearing the throat out of a Yao Guai.
>”What the heck is that thing?”
>But never like this.
>This guy has fucking EVERYTHING!
>”This guy again…”
>A rotating vice, a forge, roll pin hammers and dremels, punchers for gun smithing, boxes full of rivets and screws, bins of assorted metals, and guns all over the walls!
>”Excuse me, can I help you?”
>Realize my mouth is open.
“uh… yeah, I need some gun oil.”
>Look down at the source of the voice.
>A rust colored pony is in front of the counter, he looks discomforted by my presence.
>”Well, let me know when you find some, ‘cause we’re out! Best I can do is wagon grease.”
“It’s a minigun, it’ll do; How much?”
>”How much do you need?”
>Pull out an empty bottle.
“About this much.”
>I mark the bottom of the bottle with my fingers.
>”Well give it here.”
>He approaches me, and I just stand there.
>”Well?”
“Well what? You’ve got no appendages to hold this with! There isn’t even a horn on your head, how are you going to carry it?”
>He exchanges a look with the guard… Longshot, and looks back at me.
>”Just put it… on my head!” :D
>I bring the bottle above his grey mane, to try and balance it.
>There’s a pull, like magnets.
>Let go.
>It lands square on his head and stays there.
>”There, that wasn’t so hard was it?”
>Plastic isn’t magnetic.
>He trots with it perfectly balanced all the way to a workbench.
>”Hey what about my gun?” Longshot whines, looking at a rifle on the counter.
“Let me take a look.”
 >Grab the rifle and slide it under my view.
>It has a weird stretched hoof thing sticking out to the side where the grip should be, and there’s a separate piece in the center that articulates back and forth.
“Why is this slimy?”
>”Because that’s the mouthgrip, dumbass.”
“Mouth-grip? You shoot this from your mouth?”
>I look at him.
>”Yes, we hold them in our mouths and lick the bit in the middle to shoot.”
>That bit is a trigger?
“Between your teeth?”
>”Are you slow?”
>Imagine all the cracked teeth.
>Revolting.
>Look back to the rifle.
>The chamber is stuck open.
“There’s a piece of brass lodged between the upper receiver and bolt.”
>Pull a bobby pin from my sleeve.
>”Well, can you fix it?”
“I can dislodge it, yeah. What ammo did you shoot to make this happen?”
>I’ve shot a million rifles, and never have I had this kind of malfunction in my life.
>”The same ammo everyone has. It’s the right caliber!”
>I slide the pin between the parts, then pull out a screwdriver.
“Yeah well it’s the wrong quality.”
>Astounding they use ‘caliber’ as a measurement.
>Push against the pin with the screwdriver.
>”Here’s your grease buddy, it’s 50 caps.”
>The bit dislodges and the bolt slams forward with a loud grainy *chuck*.
“Thanks, just a sec.”
>Pick up the rifle and slowly rack the bolt.
>*crunch* *squeak* *chk*
“You hear that bro?”
>”What?” Longshot looks at me.
“That’s your rifle crying. Do you people do any preventive maintenance? How are you supposed to protect yourself, let alone anyone else with this?”
>”Look, just give me back my rifle! I’ve had a long day, I’m tired, I just want to get a drink and go to bed.”
>Security force.
>”Now hold on, he has a point! That there rifle of yours probably hasn’t even been gauged since it was found. What in the world do you plan to do in case of a threat, beat them over the head with the stock?”
>The rust colored pony looks at the rifle in my hands before adding “Hell, that looks ready to fall off too!”
>”O-K! What do you want me to do about it? I can’t fix the damn thing and I sure got no caps to replace it!”
>”Longshot, just how the fuck did you even get a job in security to begin with? Yer about the most irresponsible guard in town!”
“Whoa, calm do-“
>”Every other guard I know keeps their weapon is as good a condition as possible. Whenever they bring their rifles in, it’s immediately after something happens and usually they know exactly what the problem is. I’ve never, in my 20 years in this statue, had a guard, not a traveling wastelander or random civilian, but a GUARD, bring me a rifle in this shoddy of a condition without the intent to replace it.”
>Replace it.
>Salesmanship.exe
>”Alright, alright I get it! I still don’t have caps though!”
>The dude looks around at the walls for a moment.
>He walks up to one of them and picks a rifle, biting down on its mouthgrip.
>Walking back, he spits it on the counter.
>”This is one of the newer automatic rifles from the war, it doesn’t require as much maintenance as this older model ya got.”
>”Okay and?”
>”I’m offering a trade.”
“What, that’s mad! That rifle is pristine, it’s gotta be worth a ton.”
>”It is worth a ton! But… I do have a fancy for the older models, and seeing this relic beaten and battered this hard wrenches my heart.”
>”You can’t be serious…”
>”I am serious son, a guard needs a rifle, and I have a collection to expand.”
>”So… trade in?” Longshot looks positively hyped.
>”Not so fast, I want you coming in here weekly for checks and maintenance, until you learn to do this yourself. I’m not having another rifle get wasted on incompetent hooves.”
>Well done old-timer.
>Longshot nods, “Promise!” 
>He picks up the new rifle.
>”Thanks Tinker, you saved my ass.”
>”Well you better make it more than just your ass should something ever happen, colt.”
>Dig through my pack for caps.
>Toss a bunch on the counter and count them in front of him.
“…48,50. There.”
>Grab the grease and toss it into the pack.
>”Is that there a PipBuck?”
>I look at my pip-boy.
“Pip… buck?”
>”Well it sure looks like one, albeit with smaller buttons and everything.”
“PipBuck?”
>”Yeah…?”
>Longshot rolls his eyes, “Here it comes…”
“Are you fucking serious?! Pip-Buck, Hoofington, MANEhatten? I bet you’re the kind of people that name a town ‘ponyville’ too!”
>They both look at me.
“That’s a real place isn’t it?”
>”Shit son, maybe yer better off without knowing for sure.”
>Sigh
 “I get it, you’re horses. Why does everything you make or name have to allude to the fact?”
>Look at the room around me.
“Let me guess, the manufacturer of those guns is probably named Ironhoof or something right?”
>”Ironshod, actually.”
>Don’t know what shod means and better off this way.
“Thank god.”
>Clear throat
“Anyway, this is a Pip-Boy. I don’t know what a PipBuck is but if it’s got a map and a radio it’s basically the same thing.”
>Look at the Pip-Boy.
>RAD meter at the top left.
“Oh yeah and a giger-counter.”
>”They sure do! You’ve got yourself a PipBuck with a different name!”
>A better name, albeit hardly.
>Look around the room again as Longshot walks out.
>Sigh
“You’ve got yourself my dream workshop. Are you a gunsmith?”
>”Sure am! You’ into guns huh?”
“Sure am!”
>”Well… I’m closing for tonight, but if you want you can come see me tomorrow, there’s some projects I’ve got that you might be… handy with.”
>lel
“I’ll come by when in the morning.”
>I mean, what else am I gonna do?
“Say, is there somewhere I can rent a room for the night?”
>”The bar downstairs lends room for outside folk, for a price… You could try the crown of the statue if that don’t work out, it’s abandoned and nopony’s been up there fer years but… at least it’s free.”
>The crown?
“Why would they abandon the crown? Isn’t that where all the best views and businesses should be?”
>He locks the register and moves toward one of the benches.
>”No, those are the upper levels, and no, they’re relegated to security because you can see the ruins and the ferry from it.”
>He gets to the bench, picks up this little brush thing with his hoof and sweeps powder into a jar on the floor.
>”There’s also the matter of broadcasting radio signals to caravans and scavenging parties… it’s got a good reason to be sure.”
>Puts the brush aside and puts a lid on the jar.
>I Notice an odd discoloration on his… backside.
>”Now the crown is right above that, and it’s abandoned because it’s deemed ‘structurally unsafe’.”
>Turns to me. “Once you get up there, you’ll see why.”
“Thanks old timer. Say, is that some kind of tattoo?”
>I point at his hindquarters.
>”Yer lookin at my flank now?”
“Your what? Flank?”
>He looks a bit angry.
“I just couldn’t help but notice the ink dude.”
>”That ain’t no ink, that’s muh cutie mark son!”
>I try not to erupt.
>[FAILURE]
>Lmao
>”What are you laughing at?”
“You mean that’s not a joke?”
>”What the hell do you mean ‘a joke’?!”
>Fall to the floor.
>I can’t breathe!
“What… the fuck dude?!”
>I ask between laughing and coughing.
>”WHAT IS IT DAMNIT?!”
>Positively furious.
“c- c- Cutie mark?”
>lol wtf
>”Yeah! What of it ya freak?!”
“What even is that?!”
>Finally compose myself.
>His expression softens a bit.
>”Y’mean you don’t know?”
>I sit up.
“I’ve never heard anyone with your voice say the word ‘cutie’ before, let alone attribute it to something on their body!”
>He looks dumbfounded.
>”How’ve you not seen one before?”
>Think for a moment.
>PER 3
“It may have just slipped my mind because I was occupied with other things at the moment. But still, what does it mean? Is it magical or something?”
>”Is it magical? Of course it is son, everypony gets a cutie mark at some point in their lives, you just gotta find what you’re good at.”
“What do you mean what you’re good at?”
>”Everypony as a special talent, we’re born with it; it just has to be discovered.”
“How does that happen?”
>”Well… it just does! Someday you do something and find out you’re good at it. Next thing you know there’s a mark on your flanks, and you know your calling.”
“So that thing just showed up one day?”
>”Well it wasn’t all that simple but yes, pretty much…”
“So… all these other ponies have one too, not just you?”
>”Are you planin’ on lookin at everyponies’ flanks just to find out? ‘Cause I might just send you outta here with a face lift if so!”
>Shit, I really liked this guy.
“No, I’m just confused. None of this makes any fucking sense!”
>He looks at me.
>I cross my legs to sit more comfortably.
“Magic doesn’t exist where I’m from. Humans don’t get a calling in life, there’s nothing you’re ‘just good at’ and you certainly don’t get a mark on your ass to show for it!”
>His expression softens a bit more.
“If a human wants to be good at something they have to chase it, pouring blood sweat and…”
>Tears, but crying is a waste of time for pussies only.
“…effort into it until they painstakingly become good at it. You’re telling me, every one of you is BORN with a special talent, and once you find out about it, it gets magically imprinted on you?”
>”Well… yeah.”
“Can you change it if you don’t like it?”
>”I’ve never met a pony that didn’t like their cutie mark.”
>There’s a moment of silence.
“So… no?”
>”No. But that don’t mean you can’t do something else instead of what you’re good at. Some ponies have a combat cutie mark and work a maintenance job. Some of us might not use our talents, but that’s not cause we don’t like ‘em, it’s because of…”
>He gets a somber look.
 >”other reasons…”
“What do you mean?”
>He sighs. “Sometimes your talent just isn’t what your friends need. Sometimes it does more harm than good…”
>I get up.
“Well, sorry about that, and thanks for your business.”
>”Don’t mention it.”
“Can I still swing by tomorrow?”
>He sighs.
>”If you promise to control yourself, I don’t see why not.”
“Promise.”
>We walk outside.
>He rears up, grabs the metal shutter with the tips of his hooves, and brings it down.
>Get a better look at the mark.
>Looks like the bolt carrier of a Chinese rifle lying on a greasy rag.
>”Well I guess we’ll meet tomorrow son, you try not to fall off the top if yer headed to the crown now, alright?”
“I won’t, good night Tinker.”
>He nods and walks towards the elevators.
>Lean over the safety rail.
>Cutie marks.
>Cutie. Marks.
>‘calling mark’ or ‘talent mark’, or hell even a ‘specialty sign’ would be better.
>Cutie.
>They can’t be serious.
>Oh fuck, I missed the elevator!
>The rail is sturdy.
>Vault over it to the floor below.
>My landing produces a loud *poomf* despite bending my knees to absorb the impact.
>”Damnit, you scared the shit outta me!”
>It’s Longshot again.
“Sorry dude, didn’t wanna wait for the elevator.”
>”Whatever.” He snorts before walking into the bar.
>Walk in after him.
>Inside there’s a bar/restaurant combo, kind of like in rivet city, except with an actual interior of its own. At one corner sits an empty stage, in the center is the bar, and somewhere in the back a doorway is visible, which I assume would lead to the rooms they rent out here.
>Ponies are sitting in tables all around, and the sounds of clinking glasses and chatter fill the air.
>Approach the bar.
>There’s a white pone with black mane serving drinks.
>I place my hands on the counter and wait for her to get to me.
>”whoa, we don’t get much of your kind around here.” She says.
>At least she isn’t scared.
“I know. Say, is this where I can rent a room for the night?”
>”Ah, sorry dude… he just rented the only one we have…” she points with her nose to something large sitting at the bar next to me.
>It’s got the head of an eagle, hands like a human’s but textured like crows’ feet, the rest of its body is draped in black armor par for the large, black wings at its sides.
>It looks at me and I look at it, both of us wide-eyed.
“Are you supposed to be a…”
>What was that word?
“Pegasus?”
>The corners of its face contort into a grin.
>ITS BEAK
>GRINS
>”tsst, whut?” he asks, suppressing laugher.
>”Dude, that’s a griffin.”
“Oh, right…”
>’the ponies with the wings’, ponies don’t have hands, dipshit, or beaks.
“Wait, what’s a griffin?”
>He starts laughing.
>”How do you not know?” the bartender looks actually confused when she asks.
>”Dude,” he starts, “you look like what would happen if a hellhound fucked a naked dog.”
>He laughs some more.
“What’s a hellhound?”
>”Oh wow, you are clueless aren’t you?” he finally stops laughing.
“Look, I’m gonna be really honest with you for a moment. I’m not from around here... this planet I mean. Like, I’m not the smartest person, but I’m pretty sure that Equestria doesn’t exist where I’m from. Neither do ponies, or magic, or whatever you’re supposed to be. So forgive me if I’m not well informed when I ask you again. What’s a Hellhound and why are they so blessed, as to resemble me in any capacity?”
>”Pffft… Hahaha!” he starts wheezing, slamming a fist on the bar.
>This is fucking annoying.
>”Ho- Holy shit dude! I may have just had the worst day of my life today, but meeting you makes it almost tolerable!” he keeps laughing.
“Goddamnit,”
>I turn to the bar pony.
“can you please tell me what a hellhound is?”
>”It’s not real. They’re supposed to be like 3 times the size of a diamond dog, and have these glowing red eyes with huge teeth and claws or whatever… just a story to scare foals.”
“What’s a diamond dog?”
>”Um… aren’t you a diamond dog?” she gets that confused look again.
“Not that I know of. Is that what you lot call humans?”
>”Call them what?”
“Humans. Like, my species, what I am.”
>”How do you pronounce that?”
>For fuck’s sake!
“Hue. Man.”
>”Hue-man?”
“Yep.”
>”I never heard of humans before, I thought you were just a mutated diamond dog.”
>”Diamond dogs have a coat, and they’re way uglier.” The griffin chimes in.
>”Also hellhounds are real, I’ve see them, they’re prevalent in the highlands.”
>”So… hue-man,” He looks at me “what brings you to this place that doesn’t exist where you’re from?”
>A purple camp fire.
“I really don’t know… maybe some kind of magic?”
>”Hey…” The pony interrupts, “Before you get lost in conversation, are you gonna order a drink?”
>Feels more like a demand than a question.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any absinthe, would you?”
>She walks off for a moment.
>”Absinthe? What is that?” the griffin asks.
“It’s this green shit that tastes good and makes me happy.”
>She comes back with a bottle of green liquid on her head.
>”One sec.” she places the bottle on the bar and brings up a glass.
>”Hey, pour one for me too.” The griffin asks.
>”Sure thing,” She brings up another glass. ”That’ll be ten caps each.”
>Shove hand in pack, fumble, find caps, dump a handful on the counter.
“How much is that?”
>”36.” She says without even counting.
”Guess I’m paying for both of us then.”
>”What, why?” he asks me.
“Eh, I have enough.”
>”So you’re buying me a drink?”
“Don’t flatter yourself beakface.”
>He chuckles.
>The pony picks up the bottle between her forehooves, pulls the cork with her teeth, pours the drinks, then corks it again.
>”Bottoms up boys.” With that she turns her attention to the other patrons.
“Drink slow, it’s potent.”
>He nods and we both take a sip.
>The drink soothes my nerves the moment it enters my mouth.
>”Oh wow, this kicks.”
“Yeah, I needed that.”
>”So let me get this straight, you’re not from Equestria at all?”
“No, I just got here maybe five hours ago I think.”
>”How?”
“Well…”
>Oh god, how did this happen, again?
“I’m from this place called Washington, inside of the United States of America. The country got nuked during a war like 200 years ago, and somehow the idiots that survived still haven’t picked up the pieces.”
>”What does ‘nuked’ mean?”
“Huge fucking bombs, leveling buildings and spreading radiation everywhere.”
>”Sounds like home!” he takes another sip.
>I follow with a sip as well.
“Anyway it rains there all the time…”
>”It rains just about anywhere in Equestria right now.”
“…yeah, most ponies tell me Hoofington, as if ‘Washington’ is just a pun about it because it rains there a lot, but it’s a real place!”
>”Been near there before, and yeah, I guess it does rain there more than it does here.”
“Well, whatever. So one day I’m in Rivet City, and there’s this guy with a big hat and a revolver asking me where he can get .357 rounds for his gun.”
>He gives me an attentive look.
“I ask him where I can get a gun that shoots that garbage to start with, because in Washington we use 5.56, or 10mm… anything military really. .357 hasn’t been in service since the advent of .45ACP, so no shit it’s scarce nowadays.”
>”Bullets…” he rolls his eyes.
“In any case, he tells me he just got off a train in the ruins, spent 3 days crawling around there until he found his way out, and that he could use some help. I paid for his ammo and bought him a drink in exchange for information, and he told me about this train station that has- and get this: a working train! Not only that, it goes all the way to the sunny desert of Nevada, where the rain is scarce and 10mm ammo is actually expensive. So, needing a change of scenery, I went looking.”
>Take another sip to help drown my regret.
>”Did you find it?”
“Nope, I was in the ruins for hours earlier today, couldn’t find shit.”
>”So how did you end up here?”
>Oh boy, here comes *that* part.
“I walked into this alleyway, heard noises inside one of the buildings, and barged my way inside cuz I got curious. Then there were these guys with masks and shit sitting in front of this purple fire, they ran away when I revved my gun, and some asshole bulker that was hiding behind me tossed me into the fire. Next thing I knew I was here.”
>Maybe I’m actually dead, and this is all just my brain pretending.
>”A purple fire?”
“I can’t describe it any other way. It was a tall, fire looking thing and it burned purple.”
>Finish my drink.
“Hey, can I get another?” I ask the white pony as she passes by.
>”Coming right up!”
>”Wow dude,” he finishes his drink too, “that’s messed up. I-“
>”Hey! You joining us?” Berry sticks her head between us.
>”Your marefriend?” the griffin raises an eyebrow and smiles.
“My what?”
>”Just a friend.” She gives him a stern look, “And you are?”
>”Just a friend.” He replies with this smug expression.
>Wow, I haven’t had a friend since Jericho bit the bullet; although this isn’t exactly what I imagined.
>”Well, why don’t you two come join us? We got some spare room at our table.”
>”I’m game.” The griffin replies.
>The bar pony comes back with the bottle again.
“Can I just buy the bottle?”
>”Umm, it’s more than half empty, and I don’t have a full bottle to give you. Don’t you want some whiskey instead?”
“I’ll pay whatever it costs to get what’s left in there.”
>”40 caps then.”
>Pack, Caps, Bar.
“There’s like 30 there, no?”
>”24, with the 16 change from earlier it’ll do. Don’t make a mess, or you’ll clean it.” She warns as she gives me the bottle.
>Grab the glasses.
“Alright, let’s go.”
>”You’re gonna carry that for me? You know I have talons right?”
>As he gets off his seat I notice he’s not actually that much bigger than a pony, maybe about my size all in all.
“You walk on them.”
>”I can walk just fine on three legs!”
”Well I walk on two by default; beat that!”
>We follow Berry to a table where Longshot is sitting with a couple more armored ponies.
>”I got wings, how about I beat those if you want to compare mobility?”
“Sure, try not to hit the celling!”
>The griffin looks annoyed.
“Gotcha beat…”
>Trying to come up with a good insult…
“…feather brain!”
>More like ‘fucking lame’.
>He still chuckles a bit, “Coming from you it’s ironic.”
“Ironic? How is th-“
>”Here he is!” Berry exclaims to her party.
>I take a seat where I can, the griffin following next to me.
>End up between him and this grey chick I don’t know.
>”So you’re the… whateveritwas that shredded those manticores, huh? How much did they hire you for?” a purple dude in front of me asks as Berry sits down next to him.
>Hire?
“Noone hired me, what do you mean?”
>Set the glasses down and pour what’s left into them, slide one to the griffin.
>”You realize she ripped you off right?” he grabs the glass.
“What are you talking about?”
>”10 caps a glass. She just charged you double what she would’ve if you just bought a couple glasses, and all you got was to keep an empty bottle!” he points a talon at the bottle in my hand.
>I was the real feather brain all along.
“Well, now I see what’s ironic.”
>He chuckles and takes a sip.
>Turn back to the dude in front.
“So what do you mean ‘hired’? Who do you think hired me?”
>”Those new comers who just rolled in, aren’t you with them?”
“I was, yeah.”
>”And they didn’t pay you?”
“Nah.”
>I take a long sip, and feel a tension in my chest subside.
>I’ve never had anxiety this bad since my first few days in the wasteland.
>”So what did you do it for? Are you just that kind?”
>I think back to Grayditch and how I got that Brian kid a new place to live.
>Guess I am kind.
“It was something to do.”
>Down the contents of my glass.
>The grey chick next to me chimes in, “Wow… so you just helped them ‘cause you we’re bored?”
“I was also lost, and alone.”
>I look at my empty glass.
“And I really needed a drink.”
>Man, it feels so much better being drunk.
>”Good job!” she puts a hoof on the metal of my gauntlet.
>There better not be dirt on that hoof, I polished this damn thing yesterday!
“Sure, whatever.”
>Gently pull my arm away.
>”You just saved a family from getting eaten by manticores, you’re alive, and you even got that drink you wanted.” The purple one goes on, “What’s got you so moody?”
>I’m not moody, I’m freaked out!
>Sigh.
“I just… went out looking for something and found this instead.”
>”Well, I’m glad you found those ponies when you did, they really needed you.”
>Well I sure didn’t need them.
“Whatever…”
>I let out an exhale as I lift my hand to lean my head against.
>He swaps a look with Berry.
>”So you wanna try out some whiskey?” she smiles.
>I’m not drunk enough.
“Sure, why not.”
>She pours me half a glass of the stuff.
>”Drink it slow!”
“Yeah, I know.”
>”So where are you from again? Berry doesn’t quite remember.” The grey one asks.
“Wahsington, and no, it’s not a pun about Hoofington, it’s a real place, where humans,”
>I turn to her, resting my fingertips on my chestplate.
“people like me, live. It’s a wasteland a lot like this one, but without magic, or manticores or ponies...”
>”So nothing like this at all?”
“Eh, looks close enough to fool me at a glance, what with the rubble and cloudy skies. At first I thought the cars look weird, but now I realize they’re wagons. Other than that nothing really looked that strange at first. Sure the buildings are different, but then I thought that was because this is Manhattan.”
>”You say Manehatten weird.”
“That’s because I’m not talking about Manehatten, I’m talking about Manhattan. It’s another city where I’m from.”
>”MANhattan? Like human?” Longshot wears a stoic expression as he asks.
“I… guess?”
>”NOW who’s with the naming conventions?”
“Hey fuck you, I’m right! We have towns named Andale and Springfield that have nothing to do with ‘human’ stuff. You won’t find a town named Humanville or Handington on our maps.”
>At least I hope not.
“I bet you people don’t have a single town named anything that isn’t horse related.”
>”Actually we do, it’s called Friendship City.” He lifts his glass between his hooves and pours the whiskey into his mouth.
>ggwp
>”So what do you do where you’re from?” the grey one with her curiosity again.
>Before I can respond the purple buck says “Hold on, if you’re saying there ain’t a single pony where you’re from, how come you speak Ponish?”
“Speak what?”
>”Ponish?” he gestures to everyone at the table with his hoof, “The language?”
“This is English.”
>”What?”
“ENG-LISH. It’s the most widespread language after the British Empire happened.”
>Wait.
“How is it everyone here speaks English?!”
>”We don’t, we speak Ponish.” The grey one answers.
“So you call it a different name, it’s still English!”
>”Well from where I’m sitting I say you’re speaking Ponish and calling it English.” The buck argues.
“Whatever man, forget it.”
>”So what is it you do?” the chick next to me repeats without missing a beat.
>What do I do really?
“I’m somewhat of scavenger. Sometimes people hire me to get them stuff like metal scrap or bottles of soda.”
>Or slaves, or human body parts, or mutant blood samples… a fucking coil, even a dish at one point!
>”What?...” she chuckles. Hell, everyone at the table cracks a grin.
>The griffin points a talon at me. “There’s no way you got that much gear just scavenging scrap and soda bottles!”
“No, I ran into raiders and mutants and sold their guns for caps to buy better stuff; I’m sure you’ve done the same.”
>The buck raises an eyebrow. “What raider carries something worth buying?”
“Rifles and shotguns are always going to be worth something and bullets even more so.”
>I sip my whiskey, and feel the smooth burn roll its way down my throat, followed by that hot sensation in my ears.
“Wow, this is really good.”
> Longshot scoffs. “What makes a scavenger carry a missile launcher?”
“Super mutants, deathclaws, sentry bots, uh… what other huge threats are the- Oh, yeah! Massive radscorpions, the Tin Chumps-“
>”Stop. I don’t know what almost any of those are, except the sentry bots and radscorpions which we don’t have inside Manehatten.”
“I already told you what a super mutant is at the ferry.”
>”Bigger and green? So like what a Hellhound is to a Diamond Dog?”
>How am I supposed to know?
“Guess so… maybe?”
>The griffin looks at me, “You didn’t tell me about those.”
“I was going to.”
>Berry shares another look with the buck, “What’s a Deathclaw?”
“It’s a big, big lizard with spines and horns; it’s got this huge jaw and foot-long claws that can tear a Yao Guai in half. In fact, I’ve seen them fight those massive radscorpions and come out on top.”
>Berry and the buck share another look. “Do they have wings?”
“Jesus fucking god no; why would you give them wings?!”
>”Oh, I just thought you were talking about a Dragon… can they breathe fire?”
“No they can’t breathe- wait, dragons are real here too?”
>”Yeah… they’re pretty rare, but they’re around.”
“Dragons.”
>”Mm-hm.” She nods.
>Winged, fire breathing deathclaws.
>Now that’s metal as fuck!
“Where can I find one?”
>The grey pony next to me recoils. ”Why would you want to find a dragon?!”
“I wanna kill one!”
>Just like Grognak!
“With an axe!”
>The table erupts.
>”Holy shit,” the buck stammers, “You really aren’t from here at all!”
>”Dragons are bulletproof, you idiot!” the griffin says amidst squawks of laughter.
>Lift the glass and drink the rest of its contents.
>They finally calm down a bit.
“Alright so where can I find one?”
>Berry frowns. ”Are you for real? How suicidal are you to even think about trying that?”
“Just enough I guess.”
>”Well you can’t. I don’t know where one is, but even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
>RIP: the dream.
>”Dragons are people too y’know?” the grey one next to me says, “There were a lot of negotiations with them during the war and beforehoof.”
“What, they talk?”
>”Yeah, just like you and us.”
“Oh… I thought they’d be more like the wildlife, hopelessly stupid and irrationally aggressive.”
>”Nope!”
“Should I go get another bottle of whiskey or-“
>Longshot interrupts me, “I’ll go, before you end up paying a hundred caps for it.”
>“Talk about hopelessly stupid!” the griffin laughs.
>I look at him.
“Oh c’mon, I’m not that far gone.”
>”Alright…” he cools a bit, and turns to Berry.
>”So… you single?”
>Dude what the fuck.
“You realize she’s a horse right?”
>At least… she sorta is.
>He turns to me and scoffs “Yeah, and?”
>Ok dude, what the fuck.
“You’re just gonna openly be a degenerate like this?”
>”Degenerate? How do you mean that?”
“You’re hitting on a member of another species! That’s, like… worse than being gay!”
>Everyone swaps looks.
>”Are those bad things where you’re from?” the purple buck looks perplexed.
“Like… depends who you ask. Personally I don’t really give a shit, but even then, if I saw a human hitting on a pony I’d be disgusted.”
>”Why’s that?” the grey one asks.
>Longshot comes back with a fresh bottle, and there’s a glow around it as Berry levitates it off his back and opens it.
>She pours everyone half a glass before it runs out.
>The bottle has a silhouette of what I assume to be a Pegasus, printed above an illegible label.
“Because it’s another species, you’re not supposed to have attraction towards another species!”
>”Look, talon,” Berry tells the griffin, “you’re not my type. I think Shale might give you a chance though…” she looks at the grey chick beside me.
>The griffin looks at her.
>She’s ogling him.
>Look at him, then her, then him again.
>He locks eyes with me. “You mind if we switch seats?”
>His expression is pure determination.
>This bird wants the pony poon, and she wants the cock’s cock.
>Down my glass at once.
“Sure, I’m gonna get something from the bar real quick, be right back.”
>Get up, walk to the bar.
“Do you have vodka?”
>”Are you serious? How are you still standing straight, you drank half a bottle of absinthe!”
[Speech 25] “We drink ethanol we’re I’m from, this alcohol stuff is pretty weak in comparison.”
>What the fuck did I just say?
>”Alright… vodka is earth pony stuff though, you sure you want to mix between that and the absinthe?”
“Yeup, done it before.”
>No I haven’t.
>“Do you know where the bathroom is?”
“Uh, nah.”
>”Right in there,” She points a hoof at the door in the back, “You take the first door on the left. The LEFT, remember that! I swear if you vomit on my table I’ll make you lap it up like the dog you are.”
“I don’t vomit.”
>She rolls her eyes and fetches a bottle from the shelf.
>”It’s 50 caps, take it or leave it.”
>50? Maybe I should save for ammo…
>Look back at the table.
>Shale is running her hoof across the griffin’s foreleg… arm?
“Yeah, sure, deal!”
>Pay up and walk back with the bottle.
>”What was that all about?” Berry asks as I take my seat next to her and the griffin.
“I needed more booze.”
>I place the bottle down and unscrew the cap.
>”Oh hey, vodka! You sharing, right?” the purple buck asks.
“Sure.”
>Not that I want to.
>I pour a full glass of the stuff, the smell is strong.
>”You’re drinking all of that?” Berry asks, concerned.
“No, I’m keeping the bottle.”
>Slide the glass to the buck, careful not to spill.
>Bottle is still ¾ full.
>Start chugging.
>”Dude…” Longshot remarks,
>”Chug, chug, chug…” the purple one starts, then Longshot joins in, and then the griffin and his horsefriend too.
>There’s a mild stinging in my throat and nostrils as I down the last of it.
>It runs out.
>Put down the bottle.
>Look at the ceiling and take a deep breath as it cycles through.
>Burp.
>”Holy shit, you humans sure can drink!” the purple one remarks.
“Yeah, whatever...”
>Am drumnk.
>”Are you alright?” Berry puts a hoof on my pip-boy glove.
“Don’t touch that dial, it fucks with the bio-monitor…”
>I pull my hand away.
>She looks genuinely concerned… I think.
>My vision is blurry.
>Good, now I don’t have to see what’s happening next to me.
>”So, other than humans, what other species exist where you’re from?”
“Oh there’s tons dude! There’s the bugs, and the birds, and the Brahmin…”
>”I mean species that can talk and think, like people.”
“Oh.”
>I look at the purple in the eyes (I think).
“It’s just us.”
>”just… you?” he narrows an eye.
“Yeah. There’s nothing that can speak and think like humans, other than humans. We dominate the planet, and nothing compares to us even remotely. Not in terms of intelligence, and not in terms of anything else.”
>”What happened to all the others there?”
“There never were any others.”
>’We’re the only sapient species to ever exist on the planet’ Brotch said.
“It’s just us.”
>I repeat.
>”How can one species populate an entire planet?” he sounds incredulous.
“I don’t know, why are you asking me?”
>Oh yeah,
“Boats. We built big-ass boats that carried us across the oceans and then we were everywhere after that.”
>I think so at least.
>”But how were there so many of you?”
“That’s your question right there!”
>”And the answer?”
“I don’t know! Maybe we’re just really good at fucking, or surviving longer than other things so there’s always more of us ‘cause we don’t die as fast. I’dunno man, we’re just that good.”
>”So you’ve never been exposed to people who aren’t human before?”
“You mean literally? No, but I’ve sure met some humans I’d call not human.”
>The two next to me continue their flirting.
>I look at Berry and the buck.
“Are you two just…”
>I shake my head,
“this isn’t natural. This can’t be natural, I don’t care how used you are to seeing this, you’re not just born with your brain scrambled, what’s the deal with them?”
>”Get a room, you fucks.” Longshot tells them.
>They finally calm a bit, giving each other some space.
>”What is your deal really?” Longshot asks them.
>”What do you mean?” Shale responds.
“He means ‘why are you attracted to a griffin’ you weirdo; and it goes the same for you Beakface, why’re you trying to fuck a horse?!”
>I’m losing it!
>”No, that’s understandable.” Longshot states. “What I mean is give each other some space, you’re basically fucking at the table at this point!”
>UNDERSTANDABLE?
>Do YoU EvEN KNoW WHaT ThaT WoRD MeAnS?!
“No, nothing about this is understandable goddamnit, how many bullets did you each take to the head to be attracted to eachother?”
>I glare at them.
>”Dude, that’s normal here!” Berry tells me that like I’m not supposed to give a shit.
“Well it’s making me sick. Just because it’s ‘normal’ doesn’t mean it’s good. I mean, people say that shit about slavery too!”
>”Now hold on,” the buck starts, “you can’t compare the business of two consenting adults to something as degenerate and rancid as slavery.”
>”Yeah…” Berry adds in an off tone.
>He does have a point. It’s not like they’re raping each other or something sick like that. They’re just hooking up; it’s their business, not mine.
“Alright you have point,”
>I turn to the griffin and pony next to him.
“just don’t do it next to me, please.”
>I BEG YOU!
>”Yeah, alright…” The griffin scratches the back of his head. “Sorry about that.”
>”I’m sorry too…” Shale adds.
“Thanks.”
>There’s an awkward silence as I stare at my empty glass.
>I feel really hot all of a sudden.
>”So…” Berry starts, “Why don’t you tell us some more about where you’re from? We can draw some comparisons so you can get a better picture of this place!”
>Always with that enthusiastic sting to every sentence, you just can’t tell her ‘no’.
“Well, what else do you want to know?”
>”Are you in a relationship?”
>Oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck-
“No.”
>COULD’VE LIED I’M SUCH A FOOL, MY EYES-
>”Were you in one before this?”
“Yeah, a few actually.”
>”What happened, were you not a good fit?” the griffin teases.
>I chuckle as I turn to him.
“I’m sure you know all about ‘not fitting’ you horsefucker.”
>I laugh, and he does too.
“Anyway it wasn’t the sex, it was the aspirations. I wanted to keep roaming the wasteland and killing stuff, they wanted to settle down, or wonder up north, or commit suicide by overdosing on chems, sex and shitty radio music.”
>”You can’t overdose on sex.” Longshot states.
“You can have sex until you die, so I’m counting that.”
>”Who were you even with?” Berry asks.
“Well… there was this raider chick when I first left the vault that introduced me to chems and three new sex poses...”
>”You were with a raider?!” Shale asks.
“It’s… complicated. Suffice to say it was all consensual, non-violent stuff.”
>”Doesn’t sound much like a raider to me…” The buck says.
“Yeah, we broke up because she wanted to start doing some really degenerate shit. We got high once and she wanted me to tie her up, and every time she climaxed I was to cut her with a mache-“
>”Whoawhoawhoa, stop!” the griffin puts his talons on my gauntlet, “Too many details. Why the fuck were you with her to begin with?!”
“Well, I come crawling out to the wasteland, I’d never seen another human outside the vault before, and here comes this hot chick with a baseball bat, shirtless, asking me if I wanna be her new boyfriend.”
>The griffin still looks at me with this wierded out expression.
“Basically, I felt the same way you did when she looked at you.”
>I point at Shale to illustrate.
>”What’s a vault?” She asks.
“It’s an underground shithole full of human mole rats. Each one of them is more rancid than the last.”
>She blinks.
>Ugh…
“They’re nuclear shelters, meant to protect people from the bombs, but for some reason all of them suck. In the one I grew up, no was allowed to enter or leave, forever. The guy in charge was also a murderous maniac. The other ones I visited have been abandoned for what seems like centuries and are full of corpses, skeletons, or a mixture of the two.”
>I run my fingers along the rim of my glass.
“Oh yeah, we also had to wear these disgusting bright blue and yellow jumpsuits, you weren’t allowed to go without them. They have those in every vault, just with different numbers on the back.”
>”Bright blue and yellow?” Berry’s voice is low when she asks.
“Yep, I’d show you but I didn’t keep any of those shitty suits after I got armor and normal clothes.”
>”That sounds like stable barding…”
“Stable what?”
>”The stables are these underground shelters built to protect ponies from the megaspells, they wear blue barding with yellow details; have a number on their backs too.” She explains.
“Yeah sounds about the same. I’m from vault 101, had it on the back of my suit in big yellow numbers; we all did.”
>”Huh…” she stares at the table.
>”So if no one was allowed to leave,” I turn my attention to the griffin, “how did you get out?”
“My dad ran away.”
>Longshot starts laughing. “Good one.”
“It’s not a joke. He actually got out one day and left me to get murdered.”
>The asshole he was…
“His stunt also got Jonas killed, and I really liked Jonas.”
>”Left you to get murdered? C’mon, you were in a shelter, aren’t you exaggerating a bit?”
“Did you miss the part about the leader being a homicidal maniac? His fucking goons tore up the vault, shot my friend to death, and almost did the same to me!”
>”How did you survive then?”
“Luck, and a bunch of radroaches and random idiots serving as distractions. For instance when I got out of my room there were roaches swarming the guard that came for me, and later there was this idiot running straight at the main entrance door who the guards were too busy shooting at to notice me. I ran past most of them, always had good endurance for it.”
>”And you just Bee lined for the door?”
“No, I was… ‘friendly’ with the overseer’s daughter, so she told me about an escape tunnel in his office and helped me get in.”
>”Overseer?”
“The guy in charge!”
>”You were fucking his daughter?” the griffin interjects.
“Yes… well, sort of. She instigated all of it.”
>”Still fucked her though?”
“Yeah.”
>He chuckles. “How many were you with?”
“Three in total I think, the raider I told you about, this other chick named Sydney, Amada, who’s the overseer’s daughter, and that’s it.”
>”So you’ve only been with other humans?” Berry asks.
>Let me be clear:
“I have no plans to change that. EVER.”
>”Duuude, you are missing out!” the griffin exclaims with a smile.
“I don’t need YOUR advice of all people. I’d rather fuck a corpse than something that isn’t human.”
>”Unless you find a way back home by next year, that’s bound to change.” Shale tells me.
“What makes you so certain?”
>”There’s a reason I find him attractive, just like there’s a reason he finds me attractive.” She gestures at the griffin. “You’re right, we’re not born this way, but when you get to know a person, and you develop feelings for each other, you want to get intimate; even if they’re a different species than you, you still want that deeper element of a relationship because you love each other.”
>ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? 
 “You’re hooking up with him! What the fuck kinds of emotions are between you two other than ‘horny’?”
>”You’re right, it’s lust in this instance, but I used to be in a relationship with a griffin. I don’t find them attractive ‘just because’; I had genuine, good experiences with one.”
“That’s great, don’t tell me about it.”
>”I used to be with a pony until yesterday…” The griffin looks down at the table with a somber expression.
>I said don’t tell me!
>”Something you want off your chest?” Longshot asks. “Go on, we’re listening.”
>Somehow I doubt that, longshot has the most bored sounding tone with an expression more stoic than a brick wall.
>”She held my contract, and I failed.” His expression is pure pain.
“Wait, what contract?”
>He looks up at me, “C’mon, you’re not this stupid.”
>I look around, Longshot doesn’t look surprised, Shale looks somewhat dumbfounded at me, Berry and the guy next to her look like I asked them where the sky is.
“Look, it may be obvious to you lot, but it isn’t to me, alright?”
>Berry sighs, “Griffins during the war worked as mercenaries for both sides. They called themselves talons, and worked only for money.”
>”We always put our contracts above everything else.” The griffin stares daggers at the pink pony. “And I failed her.”
“What’s in that contract exactly? Did she own you? Were you her-”
>”She didn’t own me, she owned my services. I worked for her dad initially, he hired me to bust her out of a slaver camp, and then when he died I resold my services to her. Been travelling for years together, and I failed to protect her.”
>”Wasn’t even like I could do something,” he chokes up, “fucking building collapsed on her while scavenging!”
>Shale rubs his arm with a hoof. For once it’s not as gross.
“Shit… hate to hear it. Did you confirm?”
>Berry gives me a confused look, but the griffin knows what I mean.
>”Yeah, spent hours digging her up.”
>He wipes tears away with a fist.
“Hey that’s rough bud…”
>I put a hand on his back above his wing, patting it firmly.
“We should get something more to drink.”
>”I’ll go.” Berry gets up and goes to the bar.
>”How are you still conscious?” Longshot asks me.
“What do you mean?”
>”You drank absinthe, whiskey and a three quarter bottle of vodka for good measure. How are you not passing out or vomiting yet?”
“I had this batch of moonshine once, had battery acid in it. To be honest it’s been kinda hard to get drunk ever since.”
>Longshot scoffs.
>”Battery acid? Where do you even get something like that?” the purple buck asks.
“Point Lookout. It’s this offshore shithole full crazies. Trust me, that moonshine was the least of it.”
>”Go on, how so?”
“The locals are all inbred superstitious lunatics, there was this ghoul there that had me join a cult just to find out why they attacked him, the guy running the boat that brought me there in the first place cut a piece of my brain out, then there was this huge jar with a brain in it-“
>”Alright! Now we can all confirm you’re full of shit.” He cuts me off.
>Longshot is chuckling, Shale is too, hell, even the griffin lightens up a bit.
>I reach into my pack and pull out a jar.
>Place the jar on the table.
>”What’s that?”
“That’s the piece of my brain he cut out.”
>I look at the chunk of grey matter floating in the glass jar with a vague sense of loss.
>”Whut…” the purple one stares at it with his mouth agape.
“Yeah, I miss it sometimes. Although I have no idea what it did since I obviously didn’t need it.”
>Longshot starts laughing.
>”Ew, what’s that?” Berry levitates a couple whiskey bottles onto the table before taking back her seat.
>”A piece of this dude’s brain he carries around with him.” The griffin looks at her with an expression that says ‘can you fuckin’ believe this guy?’.
>”Alright.” She opens one of the bottles and takes a long swig before setting it back down on the table.
>She looks me dead in the eye. “What the fuck?”
“It’s a really long story; suffice to say some asshole was mean to me.”
>”And that’s the outcome?”
“Well yeah, I killed him and took it back. I can’t put it back in my head though I don’t think it’ll work.”
>”Can you put it away?” Shale asks, disgusted.
>I oblige, gently stuffing it back in the pack.
> Longshot stops laughing, “Why do you carry it around with you?”
“I just didn’t have the heart to leave it there on the boat, and since I was moving anyway I figured I’d take it with me until I find a new home.”
>”That makes sense.” Berry sounds a bit relieved. “Though, doesn’t make it any less weird.”
>The griffin pours himself a glass of whisky before doing the same for Shale.
>I look at him as he does this, and notice an insignia on his armor; the Talon Company insignia.
>’they call themselves talons’ reverberates in my mind again.
“Holy shit.”
>The griffin turns to me, “What?”
“That logo! You’re with the Talon Company?”
>”Company? I work alone.” He looks away for a moment before adding “At least, as of now.”
>”You know that logo?” Berry asks.
“Oh I don’t just know it, I had run-ins with those assholes.”
>I turn to her to clarify.
“The human ones I mean.”
>”Alright, there’s no fucking way there’s such a thing as human Talons dude.” the griffin starts, “I mean, the entire naming convention is based on being a griffin!” He flicks his talons in front of my face.
“Well, good thing I packed spare clothes for this trip.”
>”What?”
>I ruffle through my pack until I find a set of Talon Combat Armor.
“Check this out.”
>I place the folded outfit on the table, the same logo visible on the left chest plate.
>The griffin stares at it, mouth agape. “Where did you get this?”
“Same dude who had this shotty.”
>I knock my fingers against the receiver of the shotgun on my chest.
“Where I’m from the Talon Company is a group of mercenaries that take any job presented to ‘em, even if it involves slavery, killing defenseless folk, or even torture. They only work for money, no ethics involved. Once they take a contract, they see it through no matter what, and they don’t take bribes, only losses if they must.”
>”But why are they named talons?!” He presses the tips of his talons to the logo on the armor.
“No clue. Probably because it sounds cool, if I had to guess. In any case, they work as a company, there’s a firm and a hierarchy; they even have their own base!”
>”And you wear this armor?”
“On occasion yeah, it’s useful when I want to travel lighter and stick to low risk routes.”
>I gesture to my current armor.
“Also, this outfit needs a wash sometimes, and I don’t like the smell it gets after a long day of running and fighting. It’s good to have a change of clothes.”
>”But this is talon armor…” he sounds… pained?
>”Only griffins are allowed these outfits.” He fumbles with it a bit, “This one wouldn’t even fit a griffin!”
“No shit. It is human armor made for human bodies; bird.”
>”wow.” Longshot starts amused. “What else do you have in there?”
“A couple more outfits, some magazines, food, water-“
>”Dude, I mean interesting stuff.”
>”Nononono, don’t you pull anything more from there!” Berry plants her hooves on my pip-boy, restraining my arm. “I think we all had enough of that for one night!”
“Alright. Can I at least put my clothes back in it?”
>I pour myself a glass from the bottle Berry opened and start sipping it down.
>”Speaking of ‘had enough’,” The purple buck starts, “I think I’ll head off for the night, gotta be up bright and early for…” He looks at Berry, “…y’know.”
>”One second.” She says, and the buck remains planted on his seat.
>”Listen up,” She starts with this authoritative tone, Shale and Longshot turn their attention to her immediately.
>I lower my glass, looking at her.
>“we’re on night watch tomorrow, that means I want everypony at security downstairs no later than seven.” She shoots a look at Longshot before continuing, “Make sure you do all you have to during the day, and get some rest before our shift. We’re out there until dawn, and I don’t want you passing out on me. Is all that clear?”
>The three of them respond in unison “Yes ma’am!”
>”Alright,” She turns to the purple guy, “you can go.”
>”Night, fellas.” He gets up and walks off.
>I finally manage to steal my gaze back.
>Even the griffin was fixated on her!
>I grab the outfit off the table and stuff it back in my pack before going back to my drink.
>”You’ve got a commanding presence.” The griffin remarks at Berry.
>”Of course! I’m not in charge this entire detachment for nothing.”
>I down the rest of my glass and set it back down before reaching for the bottle again.
>”Stop.” Berry puts a hoof on my pip-boy again.
>I hiss out a chuckle
“You stop, you’re gunking up my screen with your hoofprints.”
>”No seriously, you’re drinking way too much.”
>Horsemommy.exe
>”Some absinthe: fine, a bottle of vodka on top of it: already excessive, but a bottle of whiskey to add to that is ridiculous. I don’t care what you are or where you’re from, you CAN’T drink this much!”
“But moooom!”
>The griffin is the first to start laughing, then Shale and Longshot join in. I laugh too.
>”Quiet!”
>We stop, looking at her.
>It’s not just us too, there’s complete and utter silence, only some radio on the other side of the room can be vaguely heard.
>The whole room is looking at us.
>Her face seems to turn a bit more red than pink all of a sudden.
“Oh c’mon, it was just a joke…”
>I give her a sorry expression, hoping she doesn’t kill me for it too.
>On second thought, maybe she’ll be doing me a favor.
>”To be fair, it was pretty funny too!” Shale chuckles.
>Berry clears her throat, smiling nervously at the nearby table.
>Looks back at me, “Ok, maybe I overreacted a bit. Still, I don’t want you vomiting…” she says in a quiet tone.
>The background chatter slowly starts up again as the other patrons resume their conversations.
“Well if you’re worried, I’ll stop.”
>”Thanks.” She magically drags the bottle a few inches further away from me.
>I sigh.
>There’s an awkward silence for a bit.
>Try to think about something to ask or say.
>I’ve never had a Talon work for me before.
“So how about that contract, bird?”