All the King’s Horses
A Conversion Bureau story.
Chapter Four: Blue
Blue. Now there was a color rarely associated with a ceiling. Yet here it was, a vista of unending blue stretching out above him.
Was he in a medical clinic?
Naw, couldn’t be. Medical care required employment with corporation approval. Tristan was a no body, a decimal point in a world of statistics.
Was he dead?
That was a distinct possibility; the bat had hit him pretty damn hard. For such a slight lass she certainly had a mighty fine swing. Around him a cool breeze was whipping past, suggesting a certain peaceful atmosphere. Everything was so bright too, stinging eyes that were used to the dark murky world of the forever clouded city. Long ago he had heard a guy on the holo-vid talking about ‘the afterlife’, how it was full of gates, endless feasting, new-mobile women and so on. That would be good; he could really go for a Moonglow right now.
Sadly the biker’s returning senses informed him that, along with being very much alive, the young man was also sporting a headache rivaling the intensity of the sun. Sticky warmth beneath him clung to the back of his neck and hair. Reaching up gingerly Tristan touched the slick and lifted his fingers back to inspect the tar like blood coating their tips.
‘So, defiantly alive, cus I can feel pain. Not indoors, cus there’s a breeze.’
Then the blue above him…
No, it couldn’t be. The sky was a dull grey even on the very best day. Sometimes it would take on green hues at dawn or dusk, perhaps brown if there was a dust storm on its way or black when another old city was ablaze. But Blue? It was just crazy. If some Joe anybody had come up and told him ‘the sky is blue’, he would have likely shot them on the spot to be sure the whatever brain fever the poor sucker had didn’t spread. Unfortunately by that line of logic though, now he’d have to shoot himself too.
Gingerly rolling onto his front, Tristan pushed himself onto his knees, taking a moment to steady his shot nerves before attempting to stand. Columns of dust lifted from the rubble strewn concrete, dancing among the abandoned Cutters and corpses that had once been his wing mates. Finally struggling to his feet, he stepped out from the pile of crates where he’d fallen and assessed the bloody mess. The convoy was gone too, though at least they’d left the quads.
There was an odd sensation of pressure, a fleeting susurration that made his ears pop. Instinctively he turned towards the source.
High above the industrial mega city of New Massachusetts, enormous tendrils of gas poured through the emptying sky, the accumulated smog of thousands of corporation factories drawn inexorably towards a sphere of gradually contracting cloud. The macabre remains of Salem shimmered as a pulse rippled across its surface, rushing past the awe struck biker faster than the speed of sound. Ears ringing with the sudden wave, Tristan kept his eyes fixed on the shrinking orb as he backed away towards the abandoned quad bikes. Around him the world was becoming sharp and vivid, the burning sensation of thalamic resonance tickling his scarred skin and filling his mouth with the tinny taste of ozone.
As the twisting sphere dwindled, the once darkened cloud began to take on a purple hue, glowing with an intense radiance that stung the onlooker’s eyes. Razing a hand to block out the worst of the light, Tristan could see shadowy fragments rising from the mega city, his suspicions compounded when the tip of the central tower suddenly leaned ominously and broke away.
Hands now upon the bike’s handles, Tristan swung a leg over the Quad’s saddle and fumbled with the ignition, a metallic clunk didn’t bode well for his escape plans. Cussing violently, the banger reached back to the top of the engine and began pulling long plugs from their sockets, swapping them around as quickly as his shaking hands permitted. In his peripheral vision the clouds convulsed suddenly, dragging his attention once more to the celestial display above the city. There was a moment of spacial confusion as the smog bank seemed to twist inside out and pass through eye watering dimensions.
And there it was, already several hundred meters across and growing rapidly. There was no sound, no sudden rush of wind or roar of thunder. Beyond a perfectly flat event horizon laid a scene not unlike a painting in a child’s story book, a bird’s eye view looking down onto the forested mountains of Equestria.
With a groan of half seized magnets the repulser drive thummed into life beneath him, just as the outline of the mega factory began to crumble and vanished beneath the silently encroaching oblivion. Jerking the quad around, Tristan slammed his foot down on the accelerator and rocketed towards the slip road leading away from the docklands. No sound reached him bar the crunch of rubble beneath the tires. Yet the reflection in the cracked wing mirrors told the story of sweeping doom. Behind him a wall of rubble and dust was being thrown up before the expanding window. Entire buildings uprooted from their centuries old foundations, experiencing a momentary freefall before being sucked into the colossal shield racing ahead of the emerging world. Beyond the dome the shattered remains of a corrupt civilization shone briefly as they entered the intense magical field, falling to the mountains as a sudden blizzard of whitest snow.
Now there was sound, the shaking of the earth beneath him and the roar of rubble rushing up behind. Cracks overtook the fleeing biker, crisscrossing long the length of the solid concrete road ahead as something black and twisting forced its way out of the long dead earth. Vivid green oozed bubbled up through the gaps like liquid life, spreading and consuming everything it touched. Far to his right an eruption rocked the already unstable ground, part of an old underground rail system lifted into the sky on immense branches, the remnants of its cargo carriages spilling onto the road ahead.
Screaming at the top of his lungs, Tristan swerved wildly as the quad leapt up the crumbling plasta-creat, his panicked reactions juggling between the shifting cracks and cartwhealing transport crates. Sheer luck saved him the poor choice of the highway, the tumbling crates forcing him to veer away as the slip road broke from its moorings. Careering past dock offices, he was treated to a side on view of the towering wave of debris, before he dove through a broken down fence and onto the industrial wastes.
Now not daring to look back, he pushed the quad as hard as it would go, his form a miniscule dot diving below the collapsing highway as the tidal wave of rubble folded down upon the last of the dockland.
Billowing dust engulfed him, stinging his eyes and choking his already burning lungs. Blind to the road ahead, Tristan kept his foot welded to the accelerator, flooring his stead long after the thunder of masonry had died. Blinking against the filth he felt the quad bike jarring against uneven terrain, dozens of potholes vying to be the first to unseat him, beaten to the punch by the end of a vehicle that loomed suddenly out of the murk.
With a cry of alarm he banked hard, barely clipping the edge of the convoy bus.
A feeling of weightlessness over took him as the bike was torn from his grasp.
***
“…tried to kill us.”
“Not that am’….“
“Keep that….just as…. Didn’t fix your jaw so that you could start questioning my judgment. Now away with you.”
Tristan blinked.
Blue.
Blue eyes hovered above him.
Bright teal light danced at the edges of his vision, obscuring everything but those eyes brimming with concern and hope, windows into the most wonderful sky of all.
As the light began to fade feeling returned to his aching body, gradually spreading along his spine and out into the very tips of his fingers and toes. Everything hurt; even his fingernails and hair ached, and that didn’t seem physically possible. The banger felt as though he’d been stretched out thinly and squashed back together. Reactively the man groaned and rolled into a fetal position, some small part of him taking note of the ruddy green hooves stepping back from his pained body.
“Careful now,” said the noble voice, something brushed against his ear in a comforting manner “I know it hurts but you’ll have to let things settle for a moment.”
Uncurling slightly the man blinked the dancing stars from his vision until he could make out the teal unicorn smiling above him. Seemingly satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere, her head swiveled to look at a small group of refugees gathered nearby.
“You keep that bodyguard of yours on a leash too. She is not to attempt to harm him again.”
“No promises there miss.” Snorted a familiar figure near the lead of the pack.
Struggling to his feet, dizziness concealed the warning words that issued from the small equine beside him as he gazed dumbfounded at the same convoy he had helped. Dazed and confused the man stood awkwardly, mouth gawking around dislocated words as he pointed an accusing finger at the short girl whom had clubbed him in the dockyard. By some miracle he was alive, awoken by his intended victims in some kind of short valley, probably a trench left from some previous unfinished construction.
Home.
Ignoring the unicorn’s startled demands for him to remain seated, Tristan began to run stiffly towards the scree slopes surrounding the road side. Every muscle in his body protested, every bone screamed for him to stop, all over ruled by a rising dread of what might lay above the rise of discarded earth. Hitting the ground hard as his legs gave out, the young rag-clad man dragged himself the last few inches to the summit and gazed down upon what had once been his home town.
Mega factory Massachusetts was gone, wiped from existence and replaced by a giant glowing hole in reality. Salem had been almost entirely consumed too, the few parts which remained buried under a hundred meter high wall of rubble. Like a spiders web the green oozing he had witnessed eating away the dockland spread slowly across the wreckage. Strange tangled things had erupted right around the border of the bubble, their immense twisting limbs shredding what few buildings had remained standing after the emergence. Growing before his eyes, the alien structures began to sprout lush plumbs, concealing what had been Salem beneath a vibrant canopy of every conceivable shade of green.
Everything was gone. His home, his life, everyone he knew.
Just… gone.
Shouts of alarm failed to break through the numb emptiness the ‘ex-banger’ felt sweeping over him. He barely even noticed the world falling away as thin fingers closed around his neck, lifting him away from the dirt.
“Don’t you dare!” Shouted the kindly equine, voice filled with righteous indignation that was quickly quelled by a second more relaxed tone.
“Sorry Miss, but she’s doing what she’s programmed to do.”
Were they talking about him? Tristan didn’t care, not now, his brain was struggling to get a grasp on the magnitude of destruction he was witnessing. The grip on his neck began to tighten, the fingers drawing together in a smooth vice like action. A loud ‘thump’ interrupted their progress. Averting his eyes from the carnage, the man looked down the bony arm to the face that stood in judgment of him. Apparently though, said judgment was being interrupted by the mare who had revived him at the road side, now repeatedly bucking the Revenant in the leg. Such an action would have shattered the bones of most healthy humans, never mind the brittle skeleton of a falave dweller like himself.
“Do Something!” the pony screamed desperately, her strikes having little to no impact on the iron like limbs of the doll woman.
“Ugh, fine!” The owner of the second voice stepped into view, revealing the same girl who had introduced him to the concrete back on the docks.
“Sarah, we’ve healed him, so killing him now would be a waste of resources.”
To his surprise the grip slackened. There was a brief pause in which Tristan could almost hear the numbers crunching through the plastic head in front of him. People like him were no bodies, nothing but a statistic. All the man could hope was that his number would be more useful as part of the machine’s calculations, then as a remainder to be cut away.
Gradually, the vice released him entirely, allowing his feet to gratefully touch the ground.
A mirthful laugh drew his attention away from the woman who would be his doom, back to the girl who had been his headache.
“Guess what, it’s your lucky day!”
Thats a terrable ending for a chapter, but my brain's about to overheat and it'll have to do if I want to have this out on time
It's not a terrible ending at all, I like it!
162311
Aww thanks hun *hugs*
162321 No problem *hugs back* besides, ending it the way you did makes me want to read the next chapter even more xD.
Would have added that to the last comment, but was in the middle of boiling spinach bugger of a pot tried to boil over on me too heh
The ending works well, and the descriptions were excellent.
"woman who would be his doom, back to the girl who had been his headache." Nice. I liked that. And plasta-crete. [Bow and tip of the hat]
Did... did Equestria just rip a whole in the sky and swallow a city?
This is your best chapter yet, although yes a wee bit short, but length isn't everything (that's what she said - haha! I kid... so sad... ahem).
As much as I hate conversion buru stories, This particular blend of retardation takes the cake. Why are all conversion buru fans autistic and socially inept? why do they ALL make such stupid stories....*sigh...
162483
Thanks Chaty. Action isn't exactly my forte so I'm glad it engaged someone.
162534
Yes, yes it did.
As for length, I actualy really stuggled with this chapter. Given I don't normaly write action aurientated scenes longer then a few paragraphs I found myself repeating words and similies allover the place x.x Though I mentioned originally that I wanted to get each chapter above one thousand words, I'm kinda aiming for above 2k words atm as less than that doesn’t exactly feel like a chapter. If I could go back I think I’d actually combine those first two, given that nothing really happens within either of them.
162561
Not sure if lol worthy Good effort though.
1. yay! and update and might I say me like. 2. Da fuu just happened at the end... Wait are their two robots now... Where do they get the implants from and all that metal or do they just push him into an Auto-Doc from Fallout. Or are they like Cybermen if so then I'm going to cower in the corner for a bit since those thing scare me S**tless.
162607
I... um. Yeah, when the negative comments aren't even in proper English any punch they're supposed to have is quite lost.
Personally I'm waiting to find out more about the rather strange cyborg, I like that whatever she has become, however it happened, it's far more in-depth than swapping flesh for plastic.
164085
I couldn't be happier to be honest, my first troll! When people actually think I'm worth trying to insult, it shows I'm making some serious headway I shall ware that comment with pride.
As for Sarah, you're quite right about it being a lot more complicated than a simple body swap. We should be finding out more about her come the next chapter, as it will be exploring the cast and their interactions now that they're fully established.
163957
Eeehehe thanks Bannana! Hmm, not sure what you mean about there being two cyborgs, that’s a pretty huge error on my part if you've picked that up Sarah went after Tristan when he ran, with the intent of ending his threat to the convoy. Out of interest what part in particular gave you the impression of there being a second one? I probably need to address it asap
164144
So their aren't two Cybermen (good now I can leave the panic room)... I mean cyborgs. Ok well keep on writing.
Down it goes again. I'd agree that anything above two point five is a bit much, but I dearly wish people would leave comments as to their star rating. There's no way I can improve without constructive criticism
167694
well my good sir, I can't really fault you on grammar. However,
Criticism:
1. I disliked the overall plot. you can't really improve this other then deleting the story.
2.The first chapter was a bit vague for my liking, I couldn't really understand what was going on in any high detail. what I did preen form it and correct me if I'm wrong, but it was about some kind of apocalyptic war being waged from the perspective of a cyborg who turns suicidal and gives up, wanting to become a pony which in it'self is ridiculous (the becoming a pony part).
3. I get that humanity has went to shit in your story, but it doesn't make sense as to why? why are the humans waging war, why are pony's converting people into pony's (wtf, where did this ass-backwards concept even come from).
I understand this IS a story, but you've completely butchered human nature, we do not think like they do in the story naturally, few individuals think like this (psychopaths), and it's usually due to upbringing. The fact is if humans behaved this way we'd never had developed civilization in the first place.
second of all, you portray humans as selfish and greedy, AND yet there is a war going on...let me explain why this is bullschitt:
selfish and greedy people would not go to war because they'd have this kind of thinking "what if we waged war and nobody else turned up, I'd be fucked" and so nobody would turn up, they'd presume others would go off and die for a cause while they save their own skin.
The main reason WE as a people wage war is because we are un-selfish, we go and die for queen and country, selflessly throwing away our lives so that others may live and prosper in the ultimate act of altruism. soldiers fight and die to save others, it's based on the same principle of why YOU open doors for people out of an instinct to make friends.
It's evolution really, if sacrificing for the good of the group makes the group fitter as a whole, then those selfless people are more likely to survive while the selfish die off due to lower numbers. We have a deeply ingrained instinct to group up and sacrafice for the greater good of the group, the group reflects upon our selves and so we begin to view that group (be it tribal or on a civilization's level) as a part of ourselves to the point we're willing to die for the cause.
Selfish individuals on the other hand have no such desire to die for a cause and only care about themselves, ergo if everyone was as selfish and greed as your story portrays then there would be no war because nobody would want to risk there own skin.
Not to mention the large organisations that presumably run the planet would have little to gain by doing this and a lot more to gain by working peacefully due to the massively greater amount of resources not taken up by the war, ergo for greedy people in charge, war is not really an option.
^^^all of this (point number 3) is a plot hole. fix it.
There you are, you have your criticism. Go improve it (preferably by deleting this fic).
167842
There’s a lot of wasted potential here Duckling. Let’s look back at that comment and see where we could improve.
Opening comments were nicely vague but clashes with the previous post with driving positivity. Investigation into the material at hand shows through with an added quip on gender which, while alluding to the possibility of implied inanity, is executed too poorly to be noticed above the following unintentional compliment.
First volley was an interesting choice, moving straight for a generic implication rather then something more subtle. Remember you’re still trying to hook your audience at this point, luring them towards an emotional outburst. Simply presenting the retort shows both a lack of cunning and patience in your work.
On the other hand, the second comment was first class. You’ve shown knowledge the source material and carefully thought through the insult to just below the radar. Preceding this with a more seditious line of argument would have worked wonders, but it stands alone; an island of whit in a sea of ineptitude.
Sadly a return to the norm within the third paragraph; a meandering rant that is entirely out of place. Far too long winded and expressing no relation to the material, this appears to be an attempted intellectual argument against the Conversion Bureau setting in general. While thought out in a philosophical sense, this fails to suitably engage the reader and remains out of context with the rest of the post.
Lastly we come to the meat and bones of any troll; Timing.
As in comedy as in tragedy, timing is everything Duckling. Despite its short comings and rambling, if this had been placed as your initial post to the comments, it would have been in an ideal position for maximum impact. However, it is left overshadowed by the previous poorly applied manner. Not only have you allowed your audience to grow indifferent to your opinions, you have also revealed that you care enough to follow both the updates to the story and the subsequent comments; a travesty of weakness on your part I’m afraid.
All in all, I found your review entertaining in the pejorative sense and will watch your future career with disinterest
169388
well I'm going to take the bait and reply to your counter-trolling by stating well done. I've been pwnd and am fairly butthurt.
However you would not have taken so much and effort to construct that argument and state all of my flaws if you were not at least somewhat angered yourself. If you didn't care you would not have replied. so I consider it at least a partial success.
I bid you good day sir.
169489
I'm glad we can both take something away from this little tête à tête.
Seriously though, as my first troll on fimfic, you will always have a special place in my heart Duckling. Thankyou
Huh... So chapter five is at 1.5k words and isn't even half way done yet
I'll have it finished before I head to bed tonight, come hell or high water.
Nice special effects there. Well, I mean... you know what, let's roll with that. Nice special effects. What a ride! It would be create to re-create it in a CG environment, with a player-controlled viewpoint, like first person. That would take a hell of a lot of work, though, but a blasted urban ruin violently transformed into a pastoral landscape, while the viewpoint is desperately running from said transformation? Talk about eye candy.
Hmm, so we have an unexpected (at least to me) viewpoint character added to the mix. Seems that Sarah and Kat's fates are intertwined with this convoy. I guess that was the original hope.
Something just occurred to me. If Katrina hadn't decided to go the Bureau, they might have shared a fate with that chunk of greater Boston there. Ouch.