The mare’s hooves stopped on the spot and her eyes dove for the ground.
Her pin-point violet eyes locked onto a thick metal disc on the ground just off to her side. The hoof-sized orange button and flashing light on top contrasted the dull, dirty outer shell of the disc. The mare’s foreleg swung with a whistle and slapped the disc clear across the dirty landscape and right into the door of an old wooden building on its last legs.
The mare tossed herself into a roll, coming to a low rest behind a cold dumpster that reeked of two-hundred years ruined garbage and whatever else Wastelanders thought was wise to toss into an otherwise abandoned trash pile. She let out a small yelp, a chunk of her mane ripped free by a few stray pieces of rebar jutting out from the pile, resulting in a clumpy mess of brown, red, and pink adorning the rebar like a miniature pike.
Wooden boards, shredded paper, and sharp metal fragments blasted into the air like a particularly abrasive substitute for confetti and fireworks. Her heart pounded, and a feeling of warmth ran from her head to her hooves. A smirk wormed its way onto the mare’s face as she pushed herself upright again.
A whistle pierced the air. The mare stole a skyward glance.
It was raining metal discs.
Beep. Beep. Plink. Ka-Plink. Be-Be-Be…
It was raining lots of metal discs. Her smirk melted.
The mare stared upwards, frozen in place. The mere second that her eyes were fixed on the sky was more than enough time for the first metal disc to hit the ground in front of her. It exploded, sending her sailing through the air and peppering her flank with shrapnel. Her bread and butter cutie mark was ripped to shreds as she hit the ground. She spiraled across broken asphalt, coming to a stop half on her hooves.
She batted at the metal disc that had fallen in front of her face, shrieking wildly as it went bouncing away. The mare pushed herself to her hooves, scrambling to race away from the rain of death. She gritted her teeth, pain racing up and down her back leg. She limped forward, her pace heavy and weak, but a pace nonetheless. She had to get away from this place. Anywhere but here!! She thought as she moved on.
The mare zigged and zagged from building to building, the plinking sounds of falling metal discs meeting her ears. Every building she approached resulted in more beeping and explosions, resulting in a chain reaction that set each structure ablaze. Anything that had been worth scavenging inside them was certainly gone.
Elsewhere, along a dilapidated stretch of road, a lone sprite bot bobbed in place. Below the floating robot lay a campsite. Strewn about the camp like pony soup was the decaying body of a mare, complete with green pepper fluff, pink and brown meaty bits, white bone crackers, and topped with a heaping helping of sanguine broth. Next to the soup lay a patched together leather saddlebag, a strange compliment to the macabre dish.
Next to the bag lay a bundle of chems, up to and including several syringes of Med-X and a grouping of healing potions. Beyond that, a brahmin corpse that was rotting away, and a gatling gun. The perforated packs attached to the brahmin's sides were spilling out with their goodies, from spiced Radbit jerky to a saucy prewar magazine called "Hinds". Several weapons and ammunition also rested alongside the dead brahmin.
The sprite bot played no music. It did not drift aimlessly. It bobbed in that one spot, surveying the spectacle like a pensive pony. A loud screeching sound followed by a series of explosions broke the still air. Starting softly, the sounds quickly grew louder into a raucous cacophony. The sprite bot hovered impassively, turning about just in time to see a goldenrod and fuschia mare come tumbling down the road. She flopped face first into a syringe of Med-X, a relieved sigh echoing from her lips. Grabbing onto the healing potions, the mare downed them all at once and stood quickly, her still-burning tail becoming entangled with the leather bag. Just as quickly as she had appeared, the mare charged forward, letting rip a loud string of expletives as she wrapped her forehooves around the Gatling Gun’s limber and pushed away.
A large metal disc landed on the sprite bot, knocking it to the ground.
“Beep,” greeted the mine.
“Beep,” answered the sprite bot.
BOOM went the campsite.…
The mare hooted loudly as she ran, not because of the pain - despite the fact that the Med-X cleared that right up - but because it was fun! The way her throat rumbled when the detonation of the mines and the blasts of gunfire weren't drowning things out made her feel exhilarated. The gunfire was of course, her own.
Common sense and basic logic says that shooting at mines is a dangerous occupation and one probably better left to those that are crazy. The mare chuckled with glee at that. There was no time for that sort of thinking! As she pushed away to try and put some distance between herself and the seemingly endless torrent of explosions, she gave the occasional tug at the crank-trigger on the gatling gun and fired wild volleys into the air behind her.
Her destination rolled into view. Two bucks stood guard in front of the wooden entry door, both armed with pistols and spears. The first buck- a pegasus- was clad in a mashup of bloodied and muddied mid-war garments and a variety of pointy metal bits. The second wore the tattered remains of a firemare’s uniform, a mask with a tear to let his horn through, a dog’s collar, and a bunch of clipboards.
A sign on the building behind them bore a faded and singed graphic of two giggling fillies draped across each other with soda bottles pressed between their forehooves and fruit-filled bubbles stippling the background. Above the graphic in cursive script were the words "The Pop Stop". Graffiti scrawled in the empty space depicted exaggerated versions of the two ponies with gigantic rumps enjoying what was certainly not-pop. Skulls and broken bones were pasted against the sign in a six-point star.
When the rolling harbinger of bulletholes and explosions drew near, the two bucks gave each other a brief glance before raising their weapons.
The unicorn waved a foreleg and gun, greeting the mare with a shouted string of expletives.
The pegasus was no more kind in his words, demanding to know what happened to Butter Churn. To drive home his point, he gave a warning shot with his pistol. The bullet ricocheted on the frame of the gatling gun and pierced right between the clipboards into the unicorn partner’s foreleg. He fell, letting loose a further string of expletives that would make even the most foul-mouthed sailors cringe. The mare didn’t care, ramming the gatling gun right through the door!
A metal disc slammed against the pegasus’s head. He flung it with a wing at the other guard. The pitch hit clipboards, knocking them hard against the bullet wound.
There was a brief, one-sided game of hot-potato with the landmine between the downed and bleeding buck and the buck with wings. It only lasted one round of exchange before the pegasus kicked the unicorn onto his back, spread his wings, and flew up out of the blast range.
The pegasus squawked, ramming face first into a shower of metal. He collapsed back to the ground in a heap, wishing only briefly that he had taken that firemare’s helmet.
The doors slammed open from the other side, knocking both the greeters and their newly amassed collection of mines about. Unpleasant looking ponies poured out through the door, shooting wild to stir up the mood. Only one newcomer- a heavily scarred griffon cub- spied the blinking mines. He flew back into the building, abandoning the rowdy mob.
The mare dropped the gatling gun to the ground with a clatter and shoved her way past the bar. She flew up the stairs like a bat out of Tartarus, making a beeline for a room. She kicked open the door, which bore the name "Breadcrumbs" in graffiti, and slammed the door shut. She then realized that this was an utterly horrible idea.
Bzzt. Boop. Bzzt.
A robot bumped into the mare’s forehead. It looked like a sprite bot, but thinner and desaturated. The white silhouette of a rearing stallion alicorn took the spot where there would typically be Robronco and ministry brandings. Fine print beneath read “On the Go Delivery Drone Release Candidate” followed by smaller alphanumeric nonsense. A metal portal on the bottom of the bot slide its doors open, and deposited a metal disc right on the nose of Breadcrumbs. Her eyes widened as her tail finished its slow burn, leaving only ash.
The mine activated, and the orange light on top began blinking.
Breadcrumbs shook the mine off then buried herself in a pile of mattresses, pillows, guns, magazines, and everything else within hoof’s reach.
Hello! My name is Revel “Retl” Romp. You probably don’t know me (since I am not famous) for my silly projects like The Seas Have Eyes, or maybe just as the founder of #BalloonPoppingFun on deviantArt.
Right now, I’m talking to you as a side-fic contributor to the Fallout: Equestria fandom and frequent reader (or listener, as I make heavy use of Text to Speech and audiobooks) of Fallout: Equestria side-stories.
I love silly things.
Ever wondered what these stories look like before edits?
I love surreal moments in fiction. I like a bit of mindscrew to make me question the meaning of everything that happened prior to a big reveal in a story. I enjoy it when it dawns on characters that they did a lot of things, and that none of it meant anything. I enjoy the fish-out-of-water silliness that Stables facilitate. I adore shiny technology and glowy magic. Most of all, I love to laugh at a good silly lighthearted romp of fiction. I can say that I’m pleased to write something as silly as what I wished to read.
However, writing this tale would not have happened if not for volrathxp, who suggested I give writing for B a try and who did the bulk of the editing for this story. It would not exist without Wirepony reminding me to get it done and helping with additional editing. It would not exist if not for G-Man arranging this ABC project that I have contributed to. Thank you all, Kkat, and all the others of IRC for encouragement. Thanks to you too, for giving your time to read this.