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Monsters and Mint-als

Aug 1st, 2015
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  1. The wasteland is full of monsters. It's one of the first things you learn growing up in such a hostile environment. Ponies are all about helping themselves, it really is enough to drive a good pony insane. Over the years I have seen the lives of so many good ponies get taken right out from under them for whatever horrible petty reasons the monsters of the wasteland have in mind. And while I could continue to lay here all day and wonder why in Celestia's name things have to be this way, the wiser pony chooses to learn from what they have seen. If you want to survive in the wasteland, you need to be alert. Lose awareness of your surroundings for just one second, and it can turn your whole life upside-down. That's all it took for them to take her from me.
  2.  
  3. I awoke with a jolt. I had been having more bad dreams, you'd think events from weeks ago would start to fade from your mind. How long had I been lying here? I leaned up, pulling my aching body off of the worn mattress beneath me and looked around my cabin. When did everything get so dull in here? It's so hard to focus when everything you're surrounded by is so boring and lifeless. I have to focus, I need a plan for the day. I'm running low on survival resources. I reached for my canteen and took a nice long drank of only slightly irradiated water. Still not helping. How am I suppose to figure what I'm going to do when there are so many opinions? I knew I had planned a way to get caps, but there were so many different options fighting for the attention of my conscious mind. Even if I wanted to give any of the individual thoughts attention, I doubt I could have because the boring haze of my cabin just made me want to fall asleep again. I got to my hooves and began pacing to get my brain working again.
  4.  
  5. After several minutes of pointless thought, I stopped in front of the table placed in the corner of my cabin. The only item of interest on table was a small rust covered tin. I told myself I would save the rest for a special day. I opened the tin and looked at the three small mints inside. How can I determine if today is going to special if I can't even think of what I need to do? I closed my eyes and popped the Mint-als into my mouth and let the minty sensation wash over me. It only took a minute for reality to slow down around me. A wave of relief washed over me as the background noise in my mind fell silent. Focus. The most potent of tools when trying to survive in the wasteland. Once I reopened my eyes, the dullness of the cabin had faded. I could clearly see colors around me and details I could not pick up before, not only that, but my accelerated mental state allowed me to process the information with ease, snipping out any worthless details.
  6.  
  7. After successfully silencing my mind, I began to remember the plan I had been piecing together all week. Only bits and pieces were making it through before, but now everything was coming back together. The idea formed like music in my mind, small notes fitting together into one comprehensive song. All angles were covered, everything was accounted for. Why hadn't I done this sooner?
  8.  
  9. I grabbed my sattlebag, closed the door of my cabin behind me and started my journey into town. I knew today was going to be special. The weather outside was absolutely perfect, the light gray sky above me showed no signs of random thunderstorms and everything had a delightfully peaceful calmness about it, like a snowy night without all the unwanted radioactive side effects. Today was going to be perfect, there was no way for it not to be, I was so in control and tuned into my surroundings.
  10.  
  11. I remember thinking back a week ago and not being confident about my plan, but today is the day I'd finally realized the flawlessness of my simple idea. Go into town, find a secluded house, break in and grab some stuff that the ponies living there aren't using. So painfully simple. I remember struggling with the possible immorality of this action, I wouldn't be a good pony if I didn't. The conclusions I had come to today were yet again so simple. First off, I had been observing the house on and off for the past several days and it seems to be completely uninhabited. Probably just a prewar home that ponies have just been too out of touch with to even investigate. It's amazing how normal ponies don't even notice huge things like empty houses, free to be looted. Even if the house wasn't empty, I knew about the ponies in town. All of them are sick, just like the rest of the wasteland. They act so homely and nice, but any of them would stab you in the back to get a step ahead in life. No better than raiders, just better at hiding their intentions. That's why I moved to the outskirts of town, close enough to stop in and buy what I need, far enough away to stay safe. In my book, there is nothing immoral about taking a small amount of survival staples from evil, rich ponies when you are in dire need. I picked up my pace, working my way into a fast trot, eager to finally put my plans into action.
  12.  
  13. I reached town relatively fast, that's something that seems to happen when you live in such a distraction free world. It was weird being around so many ponies, everything seemed so normal. It's like they are all unaware of the evil working all day every day in the wasteland. Probably so out of touch with reality that they don't even noticed when innocent ponies are murdered all around them every day. As I walked through the crowd, I was able to pick out one mare staring at me as I passed by. I could tell by her body language that she was going to confront me. I probably know her name, but that was irrelevant to my plans right now, in fact, anything she had to say was pretty much irrelevant to me in this moment.
  14.  
  15. “Sweet Celestia! Is that you Steel Clarity? I haven't seen you in weeks.” The mare shouted to me through the noise of the crowd while I continued to walk in the other direction. Instinctively, I stopped, turning around to see the happy looking green mare trotting my way. I don't know why I stopped, I could have simply pretended not to hear her over the roar of the crowd around me. I shouldn't be wasting time, I was in a great mood, but the Mint-als could wear off at any moment. I need to be efficient. The mare interrupted my thoughts by letting terrible, shallow words leak from her mouth once more.
  16.  
  17. “Steel, I'm so sorry to hear about Cherry Frost, please tell me, how are you holding up?” At this point she put on one of the most in-genuine sad expressions that I've ever seen. She tried to force her face into a frown while the rest of her body language still vibrated with positive energy. I barely suppressed the urge to snort and walk away, it wouldn't be fair to her, she isn't even aware enough to figure out the context of my actions.
  18.  
  19. “I'm doing okay.” There, now that I answered her question she could let me get along with my day.
  20.  
  21. “I haven't seen you in like, forever. Where have you been?” This conversation was so pointless. Having a conversation with a mare is definitely boring if you already know every word that she is going to say. Just like a book, her thoughts were displayed in front of me as clear as day. I figured it'd be best to humor her, couldn't have ponies getting suspicious, best to just stoop down to her level for a minute.
  22.  
  23. “Yeah. I moved out of town, so I've only been dropping in every week or so for supplies, that type of stuff, you know. It's been a busy month.” After giving her the precise response I knew she wanted to hear, her mood seemed to brighten up a bit.
  24.  
  25. “Well, I'm glad to hear you're doing okay Steel. We need to keep in touch, I'm not gonna let a short move stand between us, if you ever need a shoulder to lean on you know where to find me. Just hang in there buck-o.” It amazed me how caring she was acting. Sure, we had hung out a few times, but I don't think we'd ever developed any sort of friendship. Maybe I would take her up on her offer at some point, even if it was likely just a ploy to shoot me in the face and rob me blind. Either way, that wasn't relevant for the time being because the conversation had reached the point where it would be socially acceptable to leave.
  26.  
  27. “Thanks, it was nice talking to you. I'll see you around Pine.” With that, I walked away, ending the conversation and moving closer to my goals.
  28.  
  29. The rest of my trip continued without any unwanted social interaction. I was able to drown out the noise of the town ponies with the power of my own thought, reentering my so rudely disturbed state of calmness and clarity. After what seemed like a much lengthier walk than usual, I finally arrived at the surprisingly still intact pre-war house on the opposite edge of town. I had explored this area a few days ago, and concluded that this house would be the best place to operate. As I stared at the house, my nerves almost kicked in for a second, before I reminded myself that all of my logic was perfectly sound in this state. The only possible downside is that the house is in a secluded area, so if by chance the house was inhabited, I would have to fight whatever sick raider, warlord or slaver lived there on my own, help would be too far away. This is why I came prepared. I walked around to the backside of the house, pulling out a sawed off shotgun and several rounds of ammo from the depths of my sattlebag. I carefully loaded the gun, examining the barrel for any defects or blemishes, the only noticeable mark being the freshly carved word “breadwinner” on the side of the barrel. After reloading, I paused in front of a long since busted out window on the side of the house.
  30.  
  31. Was I really about to do this? I had never considered myself a thief, even if no one has lived here for 200 years, something still felt wrong. Come on Steel, need to stay focused on the task at hand. The thinking part of this trip is over, it's time for action. I shut down the last voice in my head and put the entirety of my heightened attention into the physical aspect of the task at hand. Now immersed in my own actions, time around me almost seemed to accelerate. Acting as a machine, I leaped through the broken out window onto the hard tiled floor beneath. It took a moment for me to get my bearings, but after taking a look around I quickly came to the conclusion that I was in a kitchen. I had made more noise than I had wanted to when entering the house, but judging by the fact that I wasn't looking down the barrel of raiders gun, my plan seemed to be off to the right start. Nopony was in the house, they would have come rushing at the sound of entry. That meant it was time to start scavenging.
  32.  
  33. The kitchen, unfortunately, did not hold many treasures. After double checking every cupboard, the only things I deemed worth taking were two Fancy Buck Cakes. I was definitely going to need to do better if I wanted to make these past few trips into town worth my while. Upon entering the next room over (what I assumed to be the living room) two things immediately stood out to me. The first thing brought me great amount of joy. Caps! About fifteen or twenty of them were lying on top of a small coffee-table in center of the room. I eagerly walked over to the table and scooped the caps into my bag to be processed later. The second thing that I noticed about the room was much more subtle and disheartening. In fact, I might not have even noticed it if it weren't for my elevated sense of awareness. A sense of dread began to penetrate my otherwise intact aura of calmness. This room, just like the kitchen before it, was spotless. Completely clean, no dust, no bones, just about as sanitary of an atmosphere as you can get in such a filthy wasteland. This house was recently inhabited, no doubt by some depraved murderous fuck who was for some reason really concerned about hygiene. Inhabited or not, I was on a mission that my life depended on. When the choice between some random raiders well being and my survival arises, I'm going to choose to survive every time. I need to stay alert, to stay alert is to stay alive. To stay alert I need to buy more Mint-als, with caps that I simply do not have.
  34.  
  35. While examining the rest of the living room, my mind began to wander. I was losing focus, slowly but surely becoming more detached to the events at hand and more engrossed in the irrelevant thoughts racing through my head. The voices were beginning to pile on top of one another, once again fighting for attention. Normally the effects of the Mint-als would last much longer, but I had really begun to work up a tolerance lately. For whatever reason, my mind kept going back to my conversation with Pine Needles.
  36.  
  37. The way that I had interacted with her had been disheartening. It's almost like I had completely forgot about her as a friend and instead viewed her as an object with one purpose that I had a flawless understanding of. Ponies are more complicated than that and I am definitely not omniscient, I should know this, especially when I'm in such a divine focused stated. I was even under the impression that she wanted to shoot me. That everypony around me wanted me dead. It must simply be because I haven't talked to anypony in a while, being busy in the cabin and all. But what was I even doing in there? When was the last time that I spent any amount of significant time with another pony? Pine and I used to visit each other almost daily. I guess it's not my fault, finding ways to make so many caps is time consuming. One pesky thought worked its way to the forefront of my mind.
  38.  
  39. “What if the Mint-als are doing this to you, altering your perception of reality and your actions? What if you're addicted?” I was almost stupid enough to stop walking to the next room over and entertain the thought like I had done many times before. Luckily, this was a topic I'd already taken the time to deal with in the past. I know what I need to do to survive, and focus is survival. I'm just smart enough to see the tools around me and use them to my benefit. Mint-als are not at all an issue, they are just important items that I would like to have around to ensure my survival, just like a gun or water. In fact, there is a good chance I'd be dead without them. Just like Cherry Frost.
  40.  
  41. Her name was enough to bring the machine like actions of my body to a complete stop in the middle of the bedroom I had wandered into. I could not deal with this right now, the task at hand was too important. Time was of the essence, I needed to get in and out of this apparently inhabited building as soon as possible. Unfortunately, my pristine Mint-al bubble had just been popped by the earth shattering reminder that my love was dead. I was no longer in control of my actions, the distractions around me were to strong for my true self to shine through and help me complete the task at hand. All I could do was surrender to the gravity of my thoughts.
  42.  
  43. ***
  44.  
  45. It had just been a normal trip gathering supplies for the trading post we had been working for. Heading out of town, trading the salespony caps for bulk items such as food, medicine and basic weaponry. We had already received our end of the deal and had begun making our way back from the trade route into the heart of town. It had been such a calm day, walking through the wasteland, having conversation about how our lives together were on the upswing, making vague optimistic plans about our future. Both Cherry and I had begun to accumulate a fair sum of caps from working for the trading post. It had seemed like such easy work, a quick way to make caps, but there was more to the job than either of us realized.
  46.  
  47. We had always been warned about the dangers of the open road, but I had successfully made the trip so many times before that at this point I had simply started to ignore my surroundings in favor of chatting with the pony I loved. I failed to realize what lengths the sick ponies of the wastes would go to take the precious supplies we were openly carrying. Talking to Cherry Frost had always been so incredible. The joy I felt just staring into her soft pink eyes, or watching her gently toss her gorgeous light purple mane while she spoke was a joy that I doubt I'll ever feel again as long as I live. The thing that still gets to me was the simplicity of our conversation that day, just a normal everyday conversation. Neither of us had realized that we would be speaking the last words we'd ever share together. If only I would have known, I still wish I could have said different things to her, but no, instead we had been talking about what we were going to do after our shifts ended.
  48.  
  49. I remembering talking about how I wanted to visit Pine Needles and Flint after work, and how she was welcome to come along. Cherry let me know she'd probably need some time to unwind at the house, and had begun to say something else but was interrupted by the distinct crack of a gunshot. All I could do was look on in horror as her now headless figure collapsed, blood staining her once beautiful clean white coat. Shot right in the back of the head by a raider who had been able to sneak up behind us during our chat. I can still see the sick look on his face, his smile is permanently etched into the recesses of my mind. The next shot out of his gun narrowly missed me, but I was too far in shock to process the severity of my situation, but luckily survival instincts were able to kick in. I dove to the side and reached into my sattlebag, quickly grasping the unblemished barrel of my shotgun. Instead of firing at me again, the raider opted to grab the bags that Cherry Frost had dropped and run for his life. I tried chasing after him, firing wildly with my shotgun but he was just out of my gun's short range. I could only sit in shock as he ran away laughing.
  50.  
  51. Sometimes learning lessons can hurt. I still can't believe I wasn't able to catch the sick son of a bitch. If I would have been focused, he would have never been able to sneak up behind us like that and kill the pony I loved. That was the day I truly learned the value of being foucsed. If you want to live, you need to be constantly engaged with your surroundings, disaster can strike at the most unexpected times. I choose to live in a state of clarity.
  52.  
  53. ***
  54.  
  55. I don't know how long I was immersed in my thoughts, all I knew was that this was not the time to reflect. I needed to re-engage with my surroundings and complete the task at hand. I would not be caught clueless ever again in my life. The bedroom that I was in seemed relatively empty. I approached the mattress in the corner of the room and checked under it. Nothing. This mission was beginning to seem like a waste of time more and more by the minute. I trotted over to the only other area of interest in the room. A nightstand with several drawers, accompanied by a still intact mirror. I opened the first drawer to be greeted by a glorious sight. The drawer was about half way full with pre-war bits. This was the score that I was looking for! There had to be at least 100 bits here, suddenly the trip had become worth while. I removed the drawer and carefully poured its contents into my sattlebag. The next drawer was the icing on the cake. Inside was only one item, but something I was absolutely ecstatic to see at this moment. A tin of Party-Time Mint-als, not exactly the type I enjoy but I still almost laughed with glee at the sight of the small tin.
  56.  
  57. I opened the tin up, and wow, it was almost all the way full! This looting trip was not only going to get me the money I need to survive, but also save me a trip into town. I knew today was going to be perfect. I was about to pop two of the pretty little mints into my mouth when I looked up and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. It was probably just the lack of Mint-als to brighten up the scenery, but I looked horrible. My once full, dark gray mane was looking patchy, strands of hair were stuck with sweat to my dirty light gray coat. While normally the contrast between the two colors was strong, I was so dirty that my coat and mane almost seemed to blend together. I looked into my own dark blue eyes, the once attentive and clear look now seemed dull and tired. The bags under my eyes were disturbingly pronounced. I could have probably spent a long time look at my reflection in the dirty mirror but I was pulled out of my thoughts by a horrifying sound. The click of a door opening.
  58.  
  59. My heart stopped, the reality of my situation hitting me full force. I quickly tossed the Mint-als into my sattlebag and redrew my shotgun. I would not be caught spacing out this time, I was aware of what was happening. I had the upper-hand here, even if I could clearly hear two voices conversing with one another just a room over. Whatever they were talking about was completely beyond my comprehension at this moment, I could only focus on the rapid pounding of my heart in my chest. I preyed to Celestia that they would not come into this room, or that I could find a way to sneak out. I heard the sound of hoofsteps approaching the door. I knew I needed to shoot the second they stepped in if I wanted any chance to survive a two on one fight.
  60.  
  61. After what seemed like minutes, a tan unicorn mare finally turned around the corner and entered the bedroom. I hesitated for a second, gun still raised ready to fire. I could hardly tell what I was doing through the haziness in my own head, the Mint-al had entirely worn off at this point. Maybe she hadn't noticed me? I had thought too soon, because at that moment she screamed.
  62.  
  63. “Steel! Please don't sho-”
  64.  
  65. CRACK!
  66.  
  67. The mare fell backwards, her chest and face torn open by the power of my point blank shot. She was dead before she hit the ground, blood splattering all of the bedroom walls and clean wooden floor. I once again entered into shock, I could barely hear the screaming coming from the living room over the ringing in my ears. Somewhere deep inside I knew I needed to finish the fight. I jumped over the corpse, gun clutched tightly in my mouth to engage the raider in the living room. When I turned the corner, I immediately knew something was wrong. The pony in the living room was not a fierce, armed, bloodthirsty raider. No, it was a small, terrified, bawling colt. My adrenaline was replaced by horror, guilt, and series of other emotions I never wanted to feel ever again. The colt was begging for me not to shoot between sobs, but I could not respond. My mouth felt glued shut, so I did the only thing I could think of. I ran. I ran out of the house, into the wasteland and as far away from the murder scene as my hooves would take me.
  68.  
  69. I don't know how long I had ran, or even how I had gotten back to my cabin. Everything around me was beyond comprehension, a simple blur of meaningless colors and objects. I was once again laying on the filthy mattress in the my cabin. Unlike earlier this morning, there was not a cacophony of thoughts fighting for attention in the front of my mind however. No, just two short, emotionally crippling thoughts. I had murdered Hazelblossom. I had orphaned her child. I was so fried out on Mint-als that I didn't even recognize her. I may not have known her well, but I knew her well enough to know she didn't deserve to be killed over 114 bits, 16 bottle caps, 2 Fancy Buck Cakes and a tin of drugs. She was pretty much the sweetest pony around these parts, I even remembered seeing her feeding starving traveler out of the kindness of her heart once. And what of her colt? I didn't even want to begin to think about that. Will he ever recover from seeing his mother shot in front of him? Even if he is able to, who is going to care for him? Even I knew his father died years ago, and his mother just... oh Celestia. I felt like sobbing.
  70.  
  71. I got to my hooves and looked at the tin of mints on the table in front of me. The sight of the smiling zebra on the front of the tin made me sick. Is this what Cherry Frost would have wanted? For me to be alert when I rob innocent ponies and orphan children? I could still picture her sweet, innocent smile, practically irradiating those around her with joy. I could still picture myself in the mirror, tired, walking around like a paranoid, know it all skeleton. A scrawny, malnourished shell of a pony. She deserved to survive so much more than I did. She would have been strong, she wouldn't have got herself addicted to drugs to try to ease the pain. I could finally admit it, I was a drug addict. The rage of the realization washed over me.
  72.  
  73. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!” I picked up the small tin of mints and threw it as hard as I could at the opposite wall of the cabin. The tin hit the wall hard, making a loud metallic sound, its contents flying all over the place. The part that disgusted me the most was that I had to resist the urge to walk around the room and pick up each small pill one by one. In my blind rage I picked up the table that the mints had been resting on and threw it at the same spot on the wall. One of the legs broke off as it made contact, falling to the floor broken and useless. Breaking things wasn't going to solve anything though. I knew everything was my fault and my fault alone. There was no way to undo what I had done. I fell back down onto my mattress and stared at my boring cabin ceiling. I cried. I cried for Cherry Frost, for Hazelblossom, for her foal, for Pine Needles, for everypony forced to live in this wasteland. I cried for the part of myself that the drugs I had chosen to take had killed. Today was so far from the perfect day I thought it would be, but I had learned a valuable lesson. The wasteland isn't just full of monsters, the wasteland creates them.
  74.  
  75. Themes: Isolation, Vices, Facing Reality
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