To say that the town of Oasis was, well, a town, may have been a little too charitable. To be more accurate, Oasis was a twisted jumble, a collection of corrugated sheet metal propped together with rotting wooden beams and tied together with chicken wire into what passed for dwellings. Some of them were haphazardly propped up on stilts that looked like they could collapse at any moment, and from the lopsided appearance of some buildings, a few of them apparently had. The town’s sole inviting feature was a well at the center, overlooked by a phenomenally bored-looking guard.
Looking over the town at its western entrance was what must have been a water tower before the bombs fell. However, the tank at the top had long since fallen off and was now more of a nest, with a rickety wooden roof overhead. Inside were a few pieces of evidence that hinted that somehow, somepony lived here: a dirty, saggy cot, a radio, a small tank of water hooked up to some tubes leading to the roof, various empty water bottles strewn about the floor, a lockbox with some loose bottlecaps on top of it, and a radio that was presently blaring a bittersweet pop tune. Two nails were driven into the wooden beams, and upon them was mounted a long and nasty-looking spike, caked dark with what was most certainly not just rust.
The nest’s one and only inhabitant was a unicorn mare. She was a mean-looking thing, tall, purple, and lean, overly dressed in dark leather barding that covered almost her entire body. Her right eye was covered by an eyepatch, while the other peered through a telescope held aloft by a magic glow. Next to her were two guns, one lying on and the other laying against a small lopsided table. The first was a pistol and the second was a deadly-looking scoped rifle.
The mare watched the wastes beyond the borders of the town, keeping her eyes on the rocky formations not far away. If anyone came out of there, she’d be ready. Though Oasis had little of what bandit or raider groups would like to plunder, it was what she got paid for. Besides, ponies all needed water, the one thing Oasis had. That one resource kept the dirty little hovel from blowing away in the next wind.
Soon, she spotted someone in her telescope. A tall mare, slowly walking forward. She was slouching slightly, but upon seeing the town she seemed to pause and pick her head up. Her hooves were dark and caked in blood, and the barding she wore was dirty, though not torn.
The mare in the tower paused and lowered her telescope and picked up her rifle, training the scope on the newcomer. She had heard gunshots earlier; there had been some sort of scuffle, which was why she’d been watching. In the absence of other ponies around, this newcomer seemed to be the only survivor. She wondered momentarily if she was a raider. She sure seemed dirty and unkempt enough to be one. But then, she didn’t have that crazy look in her eyes that she knew of the Tox. Nor did she have the self-assured swagger of a Bang Ganger or the shifty-eyed demeanor of a Dart. She was also alone, which ruled out her belonging to any simply bandit groups.
Her magic focused around the trigger. She could probably shoot her and get away with it. She could argue she looked dangerous enough. And hey, just because she didn’t have a bunch of her friends with her now didn’t mean she wasn’t a scout or something. And besides, she hadn’t had much target practice for a while…
Then the music on the radio stopped. The mare had little appreciation for music, regardless of the genre or the performer, and so often tuned it out. She had left the radio on simply out of laziness and boredom. Now, however, with the song ended, the host, DJ Pon-3, began to speak.
“And that was our very own Velvet Remedy with her hit song ‘Get It Right.’ I think we can all learn something from Velvet Remedy.” The mare lowered her rifle and turned towards the radio, slowly walking towards it. “Many of us have been forced to make compromises, to do things we don’t want to do. And when these things happen, we have doubts. And some of us can’t always recover from that. Those of us who have ideals have often found them challenged. But the important thing is to never give up. No, you won’t always succeed. You’ll make mistakes. But if you’re too scared of making a mistake to even try, you’ll never reach a change. Sure! It’s a cliché, and I know a lot of you folks are rolling your eyes at me right now…” He laughed.
“Eye,” said the mare through a thick gutteral.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.  And I’m not giving up. Not on the Lightbringer, and not on you. Now, big news from the eastern front here. The Enclave’s stomping all over the place and they’re heading for Fillydelphia. Don’t be fooled; once they’re done there they’ll start going on over where you are. Remember ‘Project Cauterize.’ They’ll raze everything more than three feet from the ground if they can. If they can. But our Lightbringer isn’t going to let that happen. I’m not one to blab secrets, but she’s got a surprise cooking I’m sure you’re all going to love.”
By now, the mare was standing right in front of her radio, looking down on it.
“And now, a message from my assistant, Homage.”
The mare picked up the radio walked to the edge of the tower, and dropped it off. On the way down, she could hear, “…now I know you’re not in love with it, but it has a couple more settings I’d like you to try…”